Wrath of the Re-climber

Not much could be said; the battle was undeniably lost. We failed to reach the summit before the world's time unraveled, a bitter outcome made inevitable by the treachery we faced. As he gazed upward, the clouds slowly drifted away from the final pillar, a haunting reminder of what once was. To say humanity was extinct would be an overstatement, yet among those hidden within the clouds were humans who had betrayed their own kind, aligning with the alternate forces and now ascending towards divinity. Their heinous crimes would remain unpunished, a cruel twist of fate.

"How can they seek the heavens with such blood on their hands?" he pondered, a question echoing in the hollow chambers of his heart. Throughout his arduous journey to the apex, he had come to a grim realization: concepts like justice and righteousness were mere illusions, often leading only to one's demise. The tragedy lay not just in the loss of the battle, but in the shattering of ideals, leaving behind a world where betrayal thrived and virtue seemed a distant memory.

"Maybe that's the punishment she had to endure," he thought as he walked towards her. She stood tall despite the grotesque injuries that marred her body; she did not fall. Her lifeless eyes were fixed on a particular spot, filled with an unquenchable hatred and grief.

"You couldn't stop them, not because they were strong, but because you showed mercy to them." Even in death, her remaining right hand clutched her broken sword tightly, pointing forward. Spiritual energy still flickered around it, as if refusing to surrender.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Despite your master's death, you want to live; you want to seek revenge and destroy them." His hand reached out toward the blue aura surrounding her. It trembled slightly before dissipating into nothingness.

"…Death is absolute over all mortals," he laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and filled with despair. The tragic reality of her fate weighed heavily on him, a stark reminder of the relentless cruelty of their world.

Tremors

Tremors shook the ground beneath his feet, and he knew it was time. On the horizon, darkness rapidly consumed the world, swallowing everything in its path. He looked up, but the clouds had vanished into the void. "I don't want to die," he whispered, his final words as the apex tower crumbled into the abyss of the dead realm.

A series of grotesque and terrifying images flashed before him, depicting a world devastated by terror, suffering, and chaos. The scenes unfolded like a broken disk, static images disintegrating into particles. This was her doing.

Unbeknownst to him, the fallen warrior woman had made one last stand against the traitors of humanity. In the heavenly realm above, a ferocious beast-like aura tore through the skies, ravaging and destroying everything in its wake. Within this aura, a spiritual figure resembling the warrior who had died standing roared defiantly at the gods. She smiled wickedly, raising her middle finger in defiance while clutching something strange in her hand.

Her gaze shifted towards another man, filled with unbridled hatred. The epic battle that ensued was a clash of titanic forces, a testament to her undying spirit and relentless pursuit of vengeance. The heavens trembled as she unleashed her fury, each strike echoing with the pain and determination of countless lifetimes. Her actions were a beacon of hope for those who had suffered, a promise that justice would be served, no matter the cost.

One man in particular who saw the scene roared in rage at the spiritual figure, "ATHENA!"

"I would not be the one to end you," said the woman, clenched hard on the object.

"Stop her!" Ordered the man, his subordinates immediately dashed towards her with inhuman speed ready to give their lives to stop the woman.

However, they weren't fast enough to stop her, and her hand collided with the surface of the realm, shattering the space within.

Boom!

The dark realm took this opportunity to engulf itself within the heaven cloud, its characteristic; it was an existence without soul nor distinctions, an error born only to cause extinction.

These types of situations usually occur at the end of all tragedy stories without any victor power, but, in this situation, this was the beginning.

*

"I am sorry that I have to leave everything to you," a familiar voice echoed in his mind. "Open your eyes," she urged gently.

The man slowly opened his eyes, bewildered by what he saw. "Am I not dead?" he asked, staring at his hands as realization dawned upon him.

"Spiritual manifestation," he murmured, understanding that his physical body had been destroyed. This skill could only be invoked under dire conditions—when the body was obliterated and the user had reached the apex level, just like her.

"Athena…" he called out, his voice trembling. The woman smiled softly; even in spiritual form, her beauty and commanding presence were undeniable.

"Wait, what happened? How is it possible we are still conscious? We were swallowed, can…" His words faltered as Athena raised a finger to her lips, silencing him with a gesture that spoke volumes of her enduring strength.

Even after death, she still possessed the authority of a ruler, he thought, awestruck.

"We don't have much time to speak," she said, her voice tinged with urgency and sorrow. "I will be brief."

The weight of their tragic fate hung heavily in the air, a poignant reminder of the sacrifices made and the battles lost. In this fleeting moment, they clung to the remnants of their existence, knowing that even in death, their struggle was far from over.

The boy's eyes widened in confusion, searching her face for answers. She smiled, but her gaze was distant as if seeing a world beyond his reach. "I have fought long enough to realize that I can't win this war." Her smile was unlike any he had seen before—etched with the weariness of countless lifetimes spent in relentless battles.

"Take this." She tossed something toward him, and instinctively, he reached out to catch it. Yet, the mysterious object vanished into thin air, leaving him bewildered and embarrassed. "What was that?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice. But her form was already fading, her essence slipping away like sand through her fingers.

"Athena!" he cried, rushing towards her, only to find her moving to embrace him instead. Her touch was ethereal, a fleeting warmth amidst the encroaching cold.

"I was glad to walk towards the summit alongside you," she whispered, her voice a gentle echo. "In all the times we spent, you always stood your ground."

As her body dissolved into nothingness, he clung to the memory of her presence, the tragic reality of their parting settling heavily upon him. At that moment, he understood the true cost of their struggle—a poignant reminder of love and loss intertwined, leaving him to carry the burden of their shared dreams alone.

"..."

"I would only advise you on a few things you need to respect," she said, stepping back from him. He reached out instinctively, but his hand grasped only air.

"Don't distance yourself from others," she continued, her voice steady yet filled with urgency. "Listen to them. Don't try to become strong on your own; fight alongside people you trust. Remember, this isn't just a battle—it's a war you must prepare for. You can't face it alone. Some build armies and, most importantly, eliminate those who disrupt the plan. But I suppose you don't need me to tell you this."

She turned away, her silhouette slowly fading into the shadows. He stood frozen, unable to move, watching helplessly as she disappeared from view.

"One last thing," her voice echoed softly, "no matter what, you will eventually encounter them on your path. There's no need for discussion—kill them all." These were her final words, a haunting directive that lingered in the air.

He blinked, struggling to comprehend the gravity of her instructions. When he opened his eyes again, everything had plunged into darkness, her distant smile now just a memory etched in his mind.

Yet, amidst the tragedy of her departure, a fierce determination ignited within him. Her words became his guiding light, fueling his resolve to honor her legacy and face the looming war with unwavering courage.

*

"Wake up, Ethan." His body jolted awake, and as he blinked, his vision blurred momentarily. He felt the warmth of tears streaming down his cheeks. Someone was holding his hand tightly, and when he turned to see who it was, he noticed their eyes were red with tears. "Why is she crying?" was his first thought. Then, touching his own face, he wondered, "Why am I crying?"

Voices rose around him, shouting and arguing, a cacophony that seemed both distant and familiar. It had been a long time since he'd heard such chaos, but this moment was etched in his memory.

"Floppy friendly games…" The phrase triggered something deep within him. His tear-filled eyes hardened, and a murderous aura emanated from him. Whatever Athena had done, it seemed she had sent him back to the past.

Fueled by a burning desire for revenge and a newfound determination, Ethan resolved to change the course of events. This time, he would not falter. He would honor Athena's legacy and ensure that those responsible for the pain and betrayal would pay dearly.