[You have been granted the title
[Vessel Of End (Mythical)]
[Description: You have one of the vessels of one of the strongest powers to ever exist… Their glory untouched despite the years. Their enemies fear their return even now… The betrayals had scarred them too deep… Please help them as much as you can. Any more pushback might lead to a world-ending retaliation.]
[Effect 1: All stats +50]
[Effect 2: Adds hidden stat 'adaptability']
[Effect 3: Removes limitations of class-exclusive skills]
[Effect 4: Grants skill 'Touch of End']
[Effect 5: Locks main class to 'Priest of End']
[Effect 6: You can hold 2 Main classes, 2 Sub classes, and 2 Professions]
Aelion didn't move.
Not at first.
His gaze rested on the glowing text, its meaning sinking in slowly—each line more insane than the last.
His mind should have raced, but instead, a strange calm settled over him.
And then, breaking the silence—
A deep, rumbling laughter echoed through the chamber.
Proud. Timeless. Triumphant.
The eyeball, still hovering in the dissipating smoke, pulsed with faint golden rings.
"If I reveal more than this eye," the voice said, now clearer, more composed, "the terrain here would distort. Collapse, even. This realm cannot contain me anymore."
There was no threat in its voice.
Only truth.
Unapologetic and absolute.
"Let us speak properly in Nytherra, Vessel. Find me at the Temple of End."
Aelion's eyes narrowed. He gave a single, slow nod.
He knew what this meant. His path wasn't just rare now—it was forbidden.
And then—
The eye blinked once.
And vanished.
The oppressive pressure faded, leaving only the eerie silence of the chamber and the faint glow of the system screen.
Aelion glanced at the materials he had looted from the dragon's corpse.
Rare scales. Crystallized bones. A primal heart.
All of them glowed with system-marked rarity.
No point hoarding them now.
With a few swift taps, he listed them on the marketplace—
payment set in real-world currency only.
Then, without hesitation, he opened his inventory and unequipped his entire gear set.
Every piece.
His armor, weapon, accessories—everything.
Even the enchanted trinkets he'd crafted during the early floors.
One by one, he listed them all for auction.
The prices skyrocketed in seconds.
Thousands.
Tens of thousands.
And they were still rising.
Since the tutorial is ending anyway, he thought, might as well make some profit out of it.
He didn't feel sentiment toward the gear.
It had served its purpose.
Now it could fund the next part of his journey—outside and within.
Aelion let out a slow breath… and logged out.
Light.
The sudden sting of sterile white light pressed against his eyelids.
He groaned faintly as sensation returned to his limbs—numb and sluggish.
His eyelids fluttered open, revealing the pale ceiling of a hospital room.
Machines beeped rhythmically beside him.
IV lines trailed from his arm.
The scent of antiseptic filled the air.
Aelion Darkshade was gone.
In his place was Aelion Celest, barely awake, blinking away the blur of digital afterimages.
'Back to the real world…'
He stared at the ceiling, the weight of both realities pressing down on him.
Aelion stared blankly at the hospital ceiling.
The sterile white light glared down at him, steady and unblinking.
He didn't move. He couldn't.
But his mind?
Sharp. Active. Alive.
After a few minutes, he activated the TV in the corner of the room.
A quiet beep followed, and the screen lit up.
His VR neural interface was still fully linked.
It allowed him to control appliances with a thought—no movement required.
Channel: Gaming News Live
The broadcast came into focus.
A well-known guild had finally reached the 99th floor of the Tower.
They had battled the boss—
and failed to secure the first-kill reward.
The commentators speculated wildly, praising their efforts, debating strategies.
The guild was already selling details about the boss for an absurdly high price.
Aelion watched it all in silence.
Then, without a flicker of emotion, he opened a private tab within the hospital's neural console.
He pulled up a custom network—one he'd built quietly over his many solo runs.
'If they're selling data… so can I. Except mine's better.'
He compiled detailed records of every monster, floor, mini-boss, and drop table he could recall.
Painstakingly mapped behaviors, damage types, weaknesses, attack timers.
He packaged it under one banner.
[Tower Codex – Compiled by Aelion]
He set the subscription at $100 per month.
And he published it.
No flashy ad. No announcement.
Just a quiet web of information spreading into the wild.
'Let's see how long before the smart ones find it.'
Satisfied, he closed the tab.
With nothing left to do, he switched the TV to a movie channel.
Some generic action flick was playing.
He leaned back—mentally—and let himself drift into the story.
Aelion watched in silence.
And then, slowly, he fell asleep.
The next day, by the time Aelion opened his eyes, the internet was buzzing.
Not just trending.
Exploding.
News alerts flashed across every channel, feed, and stream:
[Breaking: Nytherra's Global Release Confirmed]
[Only 1 Billion Players Selected for Phase One]
[Tutorial World Now Closed—True Game Begins]
Aelion blinked once, then brought up his neural interface again.
He opened the official release page.
Lines of clean, white text scrolled across a black-gold interface.
'So it's finally begun.'
It wasn't a full release.
Just the first phase of Nytherra's opening.
According to the page, only 1 billion players worldwide had been selected to enter.
Each selected player would receive a personal invitation via email, linked to their gaming credentials.
Those who didn't want their spot could transfer it—but only once—
by sending a reply email to the company with the new user's full details.
'One billion may sound like a lot… but it's not.
Not when over twenty billion tried the Tower at least once.'
Scarcity made the world burn hotter.
Social media was already flooded with people begging, bribing, offering fortunes just to get a slot.
Some offered houses. Others offered their streaming channels. Some even offered marriage.
Aelion didn't react.
He calmly opened his inbox.
Waiting there—unread and glowing—was a single email titled:
[Welcome to Nytherra: Phase One Entry Granted]
He opened it.
A loading screen shimmered briefly, revealing a golden rune spinning in silence.
No music. No words.
Just a countdown:
[Time until Transfer: 23:18:47]
He closed the mail and leaned back.
'No need to rush. I already claimed what matters.'