He stood before the Halo. The music reached a deafening crescendo. Kael reached out, his fingers brushing the cold, shimmering gold. In an instant, the world turned white. The roar of the tower faded into a peaceful silence.

He leaped for the penultimate platform. It tilted precariously. Kael’s foot slipped. He dangled by his fingertips, looking down at the miles of neon death below. With a guttural roar, he swung his body, using the momentum to vault onto the final translucent stair.

The neon blue platforms pulsed with a rhythmic, digital hum. Kael stood at the base of the Tower of Hell, looking up into a vertical abyss of shifting lasers and rotating obsidian blocks. There was no sky, only floor after floor of impossible geometry stretching into a white-hot ceiling of light.