Prologue

In a huge hall, seemingly made of gold, were present a couple dozen people dressed in either the finest of silks and jewels or armor and pieces of equipment. Everyone was standing around 8 or 9 steps away from each other, except for the three who were standing in the middle of the hall. All the eyes present were fixed upon a single person who was sitting on the throne.

It was a hall that was large enough to easily accommodate hundreds of people, yet nothing could be heard except for the regular, almost rhythmic tapping. The audience was truly spectacular, they would be treated as nobility or even royalty anywhere they went on the entire continent, yet all of them now seemed as meek as mice.

If one were to count the number of people who could keep such an audience waiting then the number wouldn't exceed the number of fingers on one's hand, and one such person was, the Emperor of Valhalla. Valhalla, one of the three empires on the United Aalchrist continent, was ruled by Alaric Nester Hightower, the strongest human known on the continent.

The group of three wore long, elegant, red-colored robes which made them seem like typical wizards. The person in lead bowed and reported, "Your Imperial Majesty, the date which was agreed upon will arrive in just a couple of decades and our forces are growing stronger every year. Your Imperial Majesty's edict has been delivered to all our subsidiaries and seven of the Kingdoms have agreed to our proposal." Visibly hesitant, he continued, "However, two remain undecided and have adopted a wait-and-see attitude."

The man atop the throne nonchalantly tapped his fingers on the armrest, as if the report didn't concern him in any way. A fierce-looking, muscular courtier, who was well above 7 feet, gritted his teeth and spat, "How dare those mice not accept the grace our Empire has shown them?" Seething in anger he turned towards the Emperor, bowed, and said "Your Imperial Majesty, please allow Walker and me to take two squads each and visit their Kings personally. If they still don't know their place within a day then Your Imperial Majesty may exact any punishment he deems fit upon this subordinate"

After a few minutes of consideration, the Emperor turned his head to face the red-robed mage, raised a brow, and inquired "Tell me, Walker, should this matter be settled as Edward suggests?" Walker pondered for a bit and replied, "Your Imperial Majesty, force might not be the best way to solve the issue at hand. How about letting Roland visit both the Kingdoms discreetly and use both coercion and threat?" Many of those present nodded as if satisfied with the course of action Walker suggested. "Roland, what are your thoughts?" The Emperor asked.

"This humble subordinate will carry out whatever Your Imperial Majesty commands." replied a figure draped in black robes. The person seemed to blend into darkness, with nothing but a vague outline of his figure being visible.

With no change in emotion, Alaric turned his head to his right to the only person dressed in seemingly ordinary clothes, who if put on a street could be easily mistaken for a pretty lady from humble origins. Although she was pretty, it was more of a girl's charm than a woman's. The youngest person in the hall, this unassuming and charming lady was none other than the third daughter of Valhalla's Emperor, Zharra Hightower.

Alaric looked at her and asked her opinion. Zharra, seemingly prepared for the question, spoke, "Father, naturally, we can use either method proposed by Sir Walker or Sir Edward, but it's not those countries we should be concerned with, but rather the other two Empires. Although we have amicable diplomatic ties to both, they are keen to find any excuse to eliminate their competitors. If we were to handle this poorly, the two other empires may form an alliance and deal with us once and for all."

Hearing the little princess's reply, some smiled whilst nodding, while others simply shook their heads. What she said was true and hadn't been stated before, but it was something so obvious that nobody said it.

But none of those present dared to berate the princess; after all, she was only nine. The Emperor wouldn't say anything, as they had positions almost equal to that of the princess if not higher and were also correct, but everyone knew that berating the princess in front of the Emperor was nothing more than a fool's errand.

Alaric had a faint smile on his face. He finally asked a person to his left, "Alexamin, what are your thoughts on this?" Alexamin Tyseph, the Imperial advisor of Valhalla, was a tall and handsome man seemingly in his forties and looked like he had been through much in life. Notably, his figure was half transparent, signifying that this was but a mere projection of him which was transmitted through his will.

In the entire empire and its subsidiaries, perhaps he was the only person who dared to not be present and just had a projection in attendance; even Sacred Generals like Edward, Walker, and Roland had to be present in person.

It was rumored that Alexamin had been by Emperor Alaric's side since Alaric started his journey from the bottom rung of society and built his way up. He was older than Alaric and had grey strands of hair here and there, but his strength and wisdom were rumored to be second only to Alaric in the Empire.

Alexamin pondered for a moment before saying, "I believe you should put off making the two Kingdoms submit to you for now and help the remaining seven grow. Before long, there will be an obvious difference in strength between our subsidiaries. Although they all report to us, their inner competition has never ceased. Also, you can recruit every Kingdom's promising youth, especially from the royal families to further their knowledge and power at the Imperial Academy. With this, the diplomatic relations will strengthen and we will grow as a whole. The recruiting will seem more believable if it were to be done via a tournament."

Nodding once, Alaric asked the court if anyone had any better ways to resolve the issue at hand but everybody agreed that Alexamin's proposal was the most appropriate. Finally, after thinking for a couple of minutes, Alaric waved his hand and materialized seemingly out of nowhere ten golden scrolls on which appeared the words

"By the Decree of I, Alaric Nester Hightower, the first Emperor of Valhalla, there will be a martial competition held every eight years in all nine subsidiary Kingdoms with the first one in seven years. Every Kingdom must filter out a total of one hundred and eleven competitors so that the promising youth of the generation can come to the Imperial Capital to pursue both knowledge and strength. A total of 999 people will form an elite force under the leadership of Imperial Prince Alberu Hightower with Imperial Princess Zharra Hightower as the second-in-command. The force will be under the direct command of Imperial advisor Alexamin Tyseph and will learn from his third student. Every new group of recruits selected from the martial competition will be added to the squad as trainees, the squad will permanently maintain a number of 1001. Only the finest will be given a spot and the rest will be assigned as reserve forces or take positions in the military under the sacred generals based on their ability. The squad will be known as Crimson Pegasus and will signify nobility and compassion during peace, and decisiveness and ruthlessness during war. Those no older than forty years of age may join the martial competition. The competition will have three age brackets: from sixteen to twenty-three, twenty-three to thirty and, thirty to forty."

Once the decrees were inscribed, one of the courtiers took them and left to make the appropriate preparations. After arranging the finer details, the meeting came to an end and everyone took their leave, leaving Zharra, Alaric, and Alexamin in the hall, Zharra couldn't hold her curiosity any longer and asked Alaric, "Father, how would a tournament help us with the problem at hand?"

Alaric smiled dotingly and replied, "Zharra, if every Kingdom is given 111 spots, then the royal families will at least monopolize some of them due to the abundant resources, superior environment, and smooth paths provided to the younger generation. Thus, the most promising youth of every Kingdom as well as a couple of their princes and princesses are bound to come to the imperial city. Without a doubt, every Kingdom will keep some of their 'aces' hidden, but the majority will be ours to recruit. Offering an enticing position, honor, and riches, they'd be like moths to a flame."

"So the tournament is just a façade to hold other princes and princesses hostage whilst robbing the Kingdoms of their promising youth?" Zharra gasped and pouted, the earlier noble demeanor replaced by a more childish one. She didn't fully agree with her father's and teacher's plans, but she knew that it wasn't something she had a say in. After satisfying her curiosity, little Zharra went on her way to play with her cousins and friends.

Exchanging knowing glances both men burst out in helpless laughter. Knowing that the little demon didn't approve of their methods, but was helpless to change their decision.

Whilst laughing Alaric got off the throne and waved his hand conjuring two simple chairs and a table in the middle of the hall, on top of the table was a board with thousands of pieces. Forgoing any formalities both of them sat down and started a game, just like they used to in their earlier days.

After a long while, the game's result was still uncertain and a petty argument broke out, leading to Alaric throwing the board off and Alex leaving out of frustration. Shaking his head as if he anticipated Alex's leave he sighed. Recalling that his youngest child didn't agree with the arrangements, he could only shake his head helplessly.

He had no qualms using such an open plot but seeing a daughter's disapproving look still stung. However, he too was impatient to finish his objective to return to the damn hell hole of a tower as soon as he cleared this floor. The last floor's trial was set at the toughest rating.

Although he wasn't the first fool to attempt it; he sure as hell was the first person to make this much progress. Whilst thinking of the tower, a myriad of emotions flashed through his eyes, - confusion, rage, anticipation, excitement, helplessness, and emptiness. He had attempted the first floor on the 'masochistic' rating a long time ago and was relentless in his pursuit to clear every floor on the same rating.

The tower, an entity that not a single person inside of could fathom its depths. Every now and then it'd bring in participants that it was interested in, and give them two options. To perish or, to climb. It contained one hundred floors and each floor had a trial, the climber could choose to challenge the trial with a rating of their choosing or they could choose to settle down on a floor once they had climbed high enough.

Two hundred years. Two hundred years was the time that he had been in this particular trial, an imaginary world where his goals were vague at best. Sighing to himself, he thought how wonderful it'd be for him to be able to take those that were dear to him from this trial to the damn tower? Starting from the little family he had in Pehevell up until now as the Emperor of Valhalla. He was one of the strongest people in this trial that could get anything, but familial love was something he could never truly bring out, as everything in the trial was imaginary. He truly hated the tower for having him experience a pleasure that would never be truly his own.

Nobody knew what the tower looked like. Some said that it appeared different to everyone who looked at it, and others guessed that it existed in a void. But despite the different opinions, one thing that almost everyone who climbed the tower had in common was their indifference to its appearance as they were too preoccupied with climbing. After all, it was well known that there was one and only one possible way to leave the tower, and that was to clear it.

Anyone who climbed above a certain floor and had certain status or strength was privy to the information that after one completed all 100 floors, they would be rewarded according to their performance.

There were a variety of ratings one could choose from: easy, basic, average, hard, difficult, and extreme. There was one hidden rating as well, harder than 'extreme', which Alaric chose from the very first floor, the 'Masochistic' difficulty. Nobody knew if the administrators or tower were playing a prank on them or trying to provoke them, but when asked the administrators simply shrugged and denied all accusations.

But what irritated the climbers weren't the rating's names, it was the rule that dictated couldn't a climber couldn't select a rating lower than their first selected rating. For example, if a participant chose the 'average' rating at the start, they could no longer choose a rating lower than basic for the rest of the floors. Thinking of the Tower and the trial Alaric sunk into contemplation.