And so, the rules came to be.
None were aware of how it had happened, how the laws of war had so suddenly shifted into a game. Yet, as if by some unseen force, the restrictions had been decided, the terms settled before any could protest. The earth, once drowned in war and despair, returned to its former self—pristine, untouched, as though the blood and suffering had never stained its surface. The war, the endless struggle between gods and demons, was forgotten.
Not by choice.
But because the rules said so.
Gaia had returned to her slumber, the all-powerful force of balance no longer interfering. The creatures of the divine and the abyss, now unable to destroy each other directly, were forced into compliance. They laughed, some out of amusement, others in disbelief. And they turned to the lone human, the single anomaly in their grand conflict, and asked mockingly:
"Are you certain you wish to play this game?"
The human stood before them, unshaken, unbowed. He was the youngest, the least among them in power, but he held the one thing neither gods nor demons could claim—the Holy Grail. And as its bearer, he held authority over the game itself.
"We'll play the same game as before," the human said, his voice steady. "But differently. A tower. A champion system. The same as you played before, but with my rules."
A ripple of unease passed through the gathered gods and demons. They had created this system, long ago, when they waged war through mortals, when they made pawns of men. Yet now, one of those pawns had taken the board for himself.
"You want to beat us at our own game?" one of the divine scoffed.
"Fair?" the human replied with a smirk. "You get to choose your champions, I get to change the rules."
Silence.
Then, after a long pause, a demon grinned, his fanged teeth glinting. "Very well, human. State your rules."
The human's eyes flickered, sharp and unreadable. "A tower. One that all must climb. Humans will fight, struggle, and rise on their own. And when the time comes, the gods and demons may claim their champions."
A murmur spread through the gathering. It was a delay, a change to their carefully constructed order. But it was still their game, in a different form.
"And what of you?" a voice from the divine asked. "What is your place in this?"
The human tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. "I'm just a player like everyone else. No more, no less."
The response earned reactions of all kinds—laughter, skepticism, intrigue. But none objected. The rules had been set. The game had begun.
And so, the Tower of Champions was created.
The world reshaped itself once more, bending to the will of the game. A tower, reaching to the heavens, its steps ascending into the unknown. It was neither divine nor demonic, for it belonged to neither. It was the battlefield, the proving ground where all would compete under equal terms.
A fragile peace was formed. A temporary ceasefire, a delay in the endless war, until humanity could regain what it had lost. Until Gaia could recover.
But the human remained alone.
Outnumbered. Surrounded by forces beyond his comprehension.
And yet, he smiled.
Because the game had only just begun.