Flashes of light filled the air as the tower's sixtieth floor unfolded before me. My chest rose and fell rhythmically — I had fought for days without rest, but the flow of battles only pushed my spirit higher.
The pendant pulsed around my neck, its glow steadier and warmer with every victory. Within, the Infinite Training Hall had become almost like a second world I knew by heart — storms of lightning, caverns of ice, and deserts burning with eternal flame.
I had already cleared twenty floors. Along the way, I gained two powerful allies: Ignis, the Guardian of Flame, fierce and loyal, and Seraphina, the Wind Guardian, graceful as dawn. Together, we moved like a single force, every strike singing in harmony.
But the Tower was far from over—and by the time I reached the sixtieth level, I had discovered something much greater than strength.
Floors twenty‑one through thirty were brutal. I fought through forests of mist that twisted the mind, swarms of shadow spirits, and beasts made of solid crystal. At the thirtieth floor's end, the gates parted to reveal my third Guardian—a warrior cloaked in frost.
He emerged from a storm of snow, tall and calm, carrying a sword carved entirely from ice. His name was Glacien, and his power was Frost Authority—the ability to freeze life and energy in an instant.
Our battle painted the world white; every movement felt slow yet precise. Only when I combined Ignis's flames and Seraphina's wind to melt through his ice did Glacien accept defeat.
When he knelt before me, I saw kindness behind his cold eyes. "Fire cannot exist without ice to balance it," he said. "Allow me, my lord, to guard that balance for you."
And so, the third guardian joined us — calm judgement to balance reckless flame.
The next ten floors tested endurance over anger, forcing me to keep a steady heart. Poisoned rivers, mirror illusions, and gravity traps filled every level. At the fortieth floor's gate, I found a desert of endless light.
There, my fourth Guardian awaited — Terris, the Sand Monarch**, master of Earth and Metal. And Metal.
He rose from the dunes as a massive, armoured being, bronze skin glowing with golden runes. Every punch shook the planet beneath my feet, and each roar sent waves of sand crashing around me.
I learnt his weakness, not by strength but through patience. Summoning Glacien's frost, I froze his sandstorm; then, drawing Ignis's flame, I shaped molten fists to strike back.
Terris fell to his knees, laughing. "Good! You fight with the calm of mountains and the fury of volcanoes. From this day, my strength guards your foundation."
With four elements now bound to me, I could feel the pendant's light shifting, forming swirling patterns of gold, blue, silver, and crimson.
From floor forty‑one onwards, the Tower turned stranger. Landscapes began to shift mid‑battle, time itself bending like rivers. Guardians of illusion tried to make me fight false copies of myself. Even my senses failed on the fiftieth floor, where gravity changed direction every few seconds.
At last, when I reached the fiftieth gate—theidway mark of the first thousand halls—I faced my fifth Guardian. She appeared amid darkness as a figure of glowing water, her hair flowing like a stream.
"I am Aqualis, Guardian of Tides** and keeper of Healing and Purity," she said softly. "To command others, you must know mercy."
Her attacks weren't designed to hurt. Instead, every blow felt like a question testing my will — healing what she damaged, soothing what she burnt. Burnt. I nearly gave up before realising it was burnt. Realising I couldn't defeat her through violence.
Instead, I lowered my weapon and extended my empty hand.
"You don't need to fight me," I said gently. "If protection is your purpose, then fight with me."
She hesitated — then smiled, the waters calming around us. "Finally, a warrior who fights without hatred. I will walk beside you."
Aqualis's power wrapped the pendant in a wave of cool blue light, balancing the heat of Ignis's flame. My energy grew tranquil and realised tranquillity and clarity, like calm water before a storm.
Ten more levels. Ten more layers test my understanding of balance and chaos.
The sixtieth floor shook like thunder when I arrived. The sky above burnt tranquil and burnt an unnatural violet hue, crackling with jagged arcs of energy.
A golden spear crashed into the ground, followed by a dark figure cloaked in sparks.
He wasn't human or beast but lightning shaped into form — pure will made visible.
"I am Voltaris, Guardian of Storms**, master of Thunder and Force," he said, his voice like thunderclaps. "Defeat me, and you command the roar of the heavens."
That battle was the hardest yet. His speed tore through reality itself — every movement blurred into light. I merged Seraphina's wind with Ignis's fire to match him, but only Glacien's ice shield saved me from one fatal strike.
Finally, I drew all the elemental energy of my five guardians into a single technique — Etherion Burst — a swirling fusion of flame, wind, ice, sand, water, and thunder.
When it exploded across the floor, the entire tower trembled from base to peak.
Voltaris stood amid the storm, smiled faintly, and knelt. "You carry the rhythm of the world in your pulse. I accept you, master of my thunder."
The light in his chest shot straight into the pendant, which glowed blindingly bright.
When the smoke cleared, all six Guardians—Ignis, Seraphina, Glacien, Terris, Aqualis, and Voltaris—stood together before me. The pendant pulsed like a living heart connecting us.
And then, for the first time, I heard a new voice from within its core — not the familiar ancient tone, but something more subtle, filled with emotion.
"You forge what was once broken. Six Guardians bow, remnants of the six elements reborn. You, Mukul Sharma, are the bridge — the world between realms."
The words struck deep.
I looked around, understanding dawning just a little more. The pendant was not merely a weapon or artefact. It was a doorway — a link tying the divine island, Etherion's lost memory, and the human world together.
Perhaps, when all guardians united, that bridge would open — reconnecting heaven, earth, and the forgotten lands in one breath.
Ignis stepped forward, his flames steady. "Master, the way forward trembles. The next guardian may not be of an element but of soul."
"Then that's where we go," I said, smiling despite exhaustion. "We climb deeper—until the pendant itself tells us why we exist."
The Tower glowed once more, stairs forming ahead like a path of starlight, each step promising something greater than victory — truth.
And as I ascended toward the seventy‑first floor, I knew this journey was no longer about power. It was about awakening worlds buried inside my heart.