Tower of Heaven

Blood oozed down from the heavens and dyed the blackness crimson. Atlas pushed himself back onto his palms as he tried to move away from it, but it came from all around him.

"*******!"

"*******!"

"*******!"

That name resounded in his head over and over again, eviscerating the pain he felt.

He clutched his skull, trying to stop the pulsing feeling in his brain, but it refused to go away.

His eyes widened as a slew of hands rose from the ground below and grabbed him from every direction. They pulled him deeper into the darkness and away from the blood, but his mind told him they were dragging him to death.

He clawed at the ground, trying to find anything to hold onto, but it didn’t come.

It didn’t come until something grabbed his flailing arm and pulled it upward. His eyes went there, only to see that the one holding him was not his savior at all.

A "thing" that looked like Harin stood there with a javelin through its chest. Its face was twisted and distorted into a vague image of misery that barely resembled her, but why did it feel so similar?

"*******..."

It opened its grotesque mouth and said that name.

"Why did you leave me?"

"Why did you grow?"

"You should have died!"

"Why did you have to exist?!"

It questioned him in her voice, but he didn’t believe it was her. He couldn’t believe that she held those kinds of thoughts.

He had thought about it so many times, pondering over his guilt. If he didn’t exist, if he didn’t decide to live in that small town without a real name, she wouldn’t have been killed.

He knew that the world of cultivators was a ruthless place. The fact that he made her put away her ruthlessness was exactly what led to her demise.

He wondered if she would hate him, if she would wish she could haunt him from the grave.

However, he had to realize that those thoughts were nothing more than his own delusions.

"Harin… Harin was a person who couldn’t think like that."

He had already become cynical by their first meeting. He saw the world as a rotten place and tried to tell her that it was so. He didn’t want her to be naive when she encountered danger. ŖÂ𐌽o͍𐌱ÈṦ

Of course, his worries were unwarranted, but he was never able to convince her. She always told him that the world was a much brighter place than he gave it credit for. She had seen much worse than he had, but she held firm in her words.

In her final moments, she wasn’t thinking of surviving or escaping. Her only goal was to save as many people as she could. Since when was she a person who would blame others for her death?

"It was an insult to her to think that way at all."

Atlas’ gaze became firmer as he looked at that thing. He wouldn’t allow it to corrupt his memory of her.

"Harin would never fall into Purgatory. Even if she were not associated with any Legend, her soul would be sent to a land of paradise, not one of aimlessness."

He stood up, facing the bloody skies and the "thing" that looked like Harin.

He wanted to face them directly and shut them down, but they were not alone.

The hands that pulled him down grabbed at his legs. Since he didn’t want to join them, they decided to crawl up to him.

Deformed shadows snaked up his body and clutched into his flesh. Atlas looked down, trying to push them away, but they were not people he could ignore.

One of those shadows bit down into his leg.

His mind was pulled into another memory.

He was in a much larger city now. With the context of Harin’s death, Atlas was able to recognize it much faster.

He rushed through the streets as he had back then.

This was a city he entered roughly fifty-odd years after the calamity that killed Harin. He had been on the hunt since then. He found the identity of those who chased her and ended her life and started improving his own strength so he could take revenge.

He now had twice the burden on his back. His own revenge was yet to be completed and the people who committed those crimes still remained a mystery.

He entered this city because he was tracing a lead he received from a beggar. There was said to be a low-level base from that force somewhere hidden in this place’s underground. He wanted to find it and extract some information while training his own skills, but it became a much greater problem once he actually arrived.

Because that low-level base was not so low-level after all.

It was disguised as a place where some information was passed back and forth, but it was actually a much more important distribution center.

He infiltrated it without that knowledge and the consequences of his actions came down hard.

The fact that a cultivator found that facility, even if it was a weak cultivator who hadn’t even left the Warrior Realms, was unacceptable.

The evil sect known as the Shadowless Midnight Cult decided that it was better to erase the entire city from history. It was all for the sake of killing him and protecting their secrets.

After all, Atlas found more than he could have ever expected. He found evidence of the widespread influence of the Shadowless Midnight Cult, and if he didn’t see it wrong…

He found a possibility that the ones behind his village’s destruction might have been the very same force. Your next chapter awaits on My Virtual Library Empire

But none of these facts were the reason why he was sent back to this place.

For the fifty years before he came to this city, he had lived the life of a lone cultivator. He never made friends that he kept in contact with. He only ever formed positive relationships with people so that he could gain benefits.

In this city, he met the first person in this life that he was able to call a real friend after Harin’s death.

As he saw that man approaching, running in the opposite direction of the crowd, he sighed.

He’d lost someone here as well.

"Telaris."

The moment he remembered that name, the scene crumbled. It didn’t allow him to see his friend for more than a few moments, but that was more than enough time for the memory to appear vividly in his mind.

It tormented him even if he wasn’t directly shown. He wasn’t directly shown not because he was being spared, but because the scene had been overpowered.

There were tens, hundreds, even thousands of arms grasping at Atlas’ legs. Each and every pair desperately clawed at his body, trying to make themselves more known than any of the rest.

In his mind, Atlas experienced a medley of death. He experienced a collage of every memory in his mind where someone he cared about died.

They wanted him to join them in the afterlife. They begged him to die so the world would no longer be burdened by his presence.

"*******!"

"*******!"

"*******!"

That name was repeated over and over as Atlas moved through the world of recollections. His body sunk deeper and deeper into the darkness, embracing death itself.

His soul was being crushed under the pressure that he experienced.

But he was unaware of it all.

Because Atlas himself was still moving from world to world, watching person after person meet their end.

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