But it was the fourth tower that truly staggered me. It stood at the nexus of the other three, a fusion of every combat discipline into a singular testing ground. Within its depths, full team scenarios played out—epic confrontations between forces that wielded powers spanning the spectrum from technological to mystical.
"Now," NABE said, his golden eyes focusing on me with laser intensity, "let me teach you the art of dimensional architecture."
I raised a hand, stopping him mid-gesture. "Wait. You're moving too fast."
His expression shifted, surprise flickering across features that usually held cosmic certainty. "Too fast? Time is a luxury we lack."
"You've told me about towers and training, about powers and purposes, but you've ignored the fundamental questions." My voice gained strength as I spoke. "What's your name? Where exactly are we? And why are you investing so much effort in teaching me any of this?"
For a moment, silence stretched between us like a held breath. Then something almost resembling amusement touched his features.
"My designation is NABE," he said finally. "Though that is not precisely a name as you would understand it—it is the race-identifier of my people. I am the last of the NABE species, so I wear it as both title and epitaph."
He gestured to the impossible vista surrounding us—towers that pierced dimensions, skies that shifted between gold and void, horizons that curved in directions that shouldn't exist.
"This realm is El Dorado, my domain constructed around the event horizon of the supermassive black hole at this galaxy's heart. It is the only structure in existence with sufficient gravitational binding force to contain my true nature."
The implications hit me like a physical blow. We weren't just in another dimension—we were existing inside the ergosphere of a cosmic singularity, in a space where physics bent to accommodate forces beyond mortal comprehension.
"As for why I teach you..." His expression grew somber. "The black hole approaches its theoretical limit. Even Sagittarius A-class singularities cannot contain exponential growth indefinitely. I am engineering you—and others like you—as living white holes, sources of controlled expansion that will create buffer domains around my essence."
"If a black hole can't hold you back," I said slowly, "what makes you think I'll have any effect at all?"
His laugh carried the sound of colliding galaxies. "You cannot and will not contain me—that is not your function. But you are not alone in this endeavor."
The air shimmered, and two figures materialized beside us. The first took my breath away—a being of impossible beauty whose form seemed to shift between solid matter and pure gravitational force. Her skin held the depth of space itself, and her eyes contained the patient hunger of event horizons.
"This is NA," known as BENA NABE, said. "She has achieved unity with the black hole's essence, becoming a living embodiment of the attractive force. Where I expand, she contracts. Where I scatter energy, she gathers it into herself."
The second figure stood in stark contrast—radiating light so intense it made my soul-form ache to perceive her directly. She seemed to be constructed from inverse physics, a walking contradiction that somehow achieved perfect stability.
"And this is BA," known as BEBA, he continued. "She embodies the white hole principle—explosive expansion, the antithesis of NA's attractive nature. While the black hole draws me inward, BA will push against my boundaries, creating dynamic equilibrium." The name of this race is BE This race can connect with any object and control and take its physical power
I stared at this cosmic trinity—black hole, white hole, and something that transcended both. "Then what's my role? It sounds like you have everything under control."
"Control is an illusion," NABE said. "This arrangement buys us time—perhaps eons, perhaps mere millennia. Eventually, I will reach a threshold where even this trinity cannot maintain balance. When that moment comes, I will undergo cosmic mitosis, splitting my essence to seed new galaxies with controlled versions of myself."
"But that's still not explaining my purpose."
"Your function is multifaceted," he said, his form beginning to pulse with barely contained energy. "First, you will create specialized domains—pocket universes designed to house the various species I have collected. Each domain must perfectly replicate the environmental conditions of their homeworlds, maintaining the delicate biological and spiritual ecosystems necessary for their continued existence."
The weight of responsibility settled on me like a collapsing star. "You want me to become a cosmic zookeeper."
"More than that. You will oversee the sustainable harvesting of souls, not their destruction, but their cultivation. Each being exists in carefully maintained stasis while you extract their mana, their spiritual essence, their unique experiential data. That material becomes the raw components for creating the next generation of their species."
My stomach twisted with the implications. "You're talking about soul farming. Industrial-scale spiritual agriculture."
"I am talking about preservation," he corrected, his tone carrying adamantine certainty. "Every species in this galaxy would have died when their stars collapsed or their worlds cooled. I have given them immortality—not as individuals, but as eternal patterns, forever recycling through generations that will never truly end."
"And my third responsibility?"
"Territorial governance. You will rule a section of El Dorado's surface—how large depends on your efficiency in soul production. I will not interfere with your management style, your governmental structure, or your cultural development. Build castles, raise armies, establish dynasties—the choice is yours, as long as you meet your quotas."
A new portal blazed to life behind me, its edges crackling with dimensional static.
"Return to your district," NABE commanded. "Begin construction of your primary fortress. Your first shipment of biological material will arrive within the solar cycle."
As I stepped toward the portal, his final words followed me like a prophecy: "Remember—in El Dorado, you are not just an Overseer. You are a gardener of souls, a shepherd of eternity. Tend your flock well."
The portal swallowed me, and I tumbled back into my domain, where the pink glow of my interface screen awaited like a faithful servant.
The real work was about to begin.