Floor 911 did not greet Danny with hostility.
It greeted him with awe.
The moment he stepped through the gate—his massive draconic form still crackling with the afterglow of purification—the tower bent around him. Stone shifted. Runes rearranged. Space widened as if inhaling in surprise.
The Celestial Tower had not seen a Golden Dragon in millennia.
Now one walked its halls again.
Danny's talons touched the floor with a weight that felt ancient. The chamber echoed with a hum—neither mechanical nor magical, but something deeper. Something alive.
The tower was singing.
And Danny could feel it.
Every note.
Every vibration.
Every thread of creation woven through the tower's foundations.
His senses had changed.
Expanded.
Awakened.
He could feel every climber—little flickers of life on floors far below.
He felt Swift dancing through fractal blades, fluid as silverwater.
He felt Jake stubbornly punching through impossible stone barriers.
He felt Jade Killington muttering curses at an overly smug guardian.
He even felt a faint ripple of Sedge Hat's presence—folded calmly between reality and tea-scented nonsense.
But there was one presence Danny did not feel.
The void.
Dar'kan was gone.
Purged.
Released.
Freed from Bones' control.
And with his purification came a strange, unexpected silence.
A hollow absence where destruction had clung like frost.
But Danny could still sense one thing distinctly:
Bones himself had withdrawn.
Like a predator waiting beyond the light.
The Tower Blesses Its Heir
Danny stepped deeper into Floor 911.
The ceiling rose higher with every footfall.
Massive braziers ignited on both sides, each flame swirling with ancient symbols.
Colossal guardians—giants formed from stone and bronze—stood motionless like statues carved by gods.
As Danny approached, they stirred.
Gears whirred.
Eyes glowed.
Dust lifted from joints sealed by centuries.
The guardians turned toward him.
And bowed.
The shockwave of their synchronized kneeling cracked the floor, but not Danny's focus. His luminous eyes softened. He lowered his great head respectfully.
"No need for that," he murmured, voice resonating with an echo of dragon thunder. "I'm only here to fix what was broken."
One guardian raised its enormous head.
Its voice was gravel and music all at once:
"Gold returns… The Tower remembers."
Another guardian flickered, runes glowing weakly.
"Heal us, Heir of Creation."
Danny's heart tightened.
He lifted one claw, placing it gently against the nearest guardian's damaged chest. Golden light flowed like water. Metal flushed back into its proper form. Cracks sealed. Energy surged through its broken channels.
The guardian gasped—a sound like bellows catching flame.
Then it stood taller than before.
Stronger.
All across the chamber, other guardians awakened, their frames glowing warm as creation fire coursed through them.
The tower vibrated in delight, ancient architecture humming with renewed energy.
Floor 911 wasn't a battlefield—it was a sanctuary waiting for healing.
Danny bowed again.
"I'll restore what I can."
The tower answered.
A pulse of golden light rippled through every wall, every rune, every corridor above and below.
A message carried through the tower's core:
THE HEIR HAS RISEN. ALIGN THE PATH.
Danny frowned slightly, golden draconic eyes narrowing.
That was new.
He turned his head toward the far archway—
—and felt something else.
Something violent.
Distant.
Crashing.
The emotional signature hit him like a gut punch.
Grief.
Wrath.
Sorrow.
Rage.
It belonged to the Wolf King.
And it was spiraling.
The Wolf King's Mistake — Floor 976
Far above Danny, the Wolf King slammed into Floor 976 like a meteor.
The floor was a death labyrinth—massive floating platforms orbiting a gravitational core that shifted randomly. Giant metallic orbs zipped through the air like predatory planets. Guardians wielding gravity hammers patrolled the space, each blow capable of crushing entire fighters in one strike.
Normally, the Wolf King thrived in chaos.
But not today.
His queen—
the one tiny light in his world of claws and fury—
had been eliminated.
He wasn't dead.
He wasn't defeated.
But she was out of his reach.
His heart howled louder than his voice ever could.
And that was why he made the mistake.
He didn't notice the gravitational inversion.
One moment he launched from a platform—claws extended, black fire blazing—
and the next the platform spun upside-down, reversing its polarity.
The Wolf King hit the underside of the platform headfirst.
Stone cracked.
Blood spattered.
His vision blurred.
He snarled, but the guardian beside him sensed weakness instantly.
A hammer larger than a carriage smashed into the Wolf King's ribs.
The impact sent him flying across the floor, bouncing off floating stones like a ragdoll.
He landed hard.
The tower went silent.
For the first time in the climb…
The Wolf King did not get up immediately.
He staggered, one hand pressed to his broken side.
His breath shook.
His claws gouged stone—not in fury, but in desperation.
He smelled her.
Her scent drifting down the tower.
Her fear.
Her sorrow.
Her loss.
He had not protected her.
A memory hit him like a blade:
Her wide eyes
Her scream
Her hand reaching toward him
As she fell—
He roared so loudly the tower shook.
But the roar cracked.
Split with emotion.
A second hammer blow hit him before he sensed it.
This time, the blow drove him into the platform with crushing force.
His body slumped.
His claws scraped.
Then—
He went still.
The tower's runes pulsed.
WOLF KING — ELIMINATED
A burst of white light enveloped him.
His massive body vanished, teleporting to the recovery chambers.
The most powerful non-dragon being in the tournament—
fallen to his own grief.
Far below, Danny's heart clenched.
He felt the Wolf King's defeat ripple across the tower like a dark tide.
He bowed his head.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I hope you find her soon."
Wolf King — Awakening in Recovery
The Wolf King's eyes snapped open.
Not to battle.
Not to chaos.
But to silence.
He was lying in a recovery cradle, green nanolight healing his wounds. The air was sterile and calm.
Too calm.
He sat up, the bed groaning under his weight.
His lieutenants weren't there.
His queen wasn't there.
His rage had nowhere to go.
He clenched his claws so hard they bled.
"I failed her."
He stared at the floor.
For the first time since his mutation—
he felt something worse than anger.
He felt small.
Yet deep beneath his sorrow, pride burned dimly:
A distant roar—a golden roar—echoed down from the floors below.
The Wolf King froze.
Something ancient stirred in his heart.
"It's him…" he whispered.
Danny.
The Golden Heir.
The first being to challenge him not with destruction—
but with a heart stronger than his rage.
The Wolf King closed his eyes.
"I will come for you," he murmured. "But not today."
His fight lay ahead.
But not now.
Now, he would rest.
Bones Withdraws
In the void between dimensions, Bones stretched.
He felt Dar'kan's purification as though a limb had been severed.
The void around him cracked.
But he did not roar.
He did not lash out.
He smiled.
A thin, brittle smile etched in eternal bone.
"So… the little dragon awakens."
He stepped back into the darkness.
"Very well. I will not interfere further."
His empty eye sockets glowed faintly.
"The tournament is creation's playground. I have other worlds to visit… other stones to break."
Bones dissolved into shadow.
He would return.
But not here.
Not now.
The Tower Chooses Danny
Back on Floor 911, the golden dragon lifted his head toward the ceiling.
The tower's energy shifted.
Every rune in the chamber began to glow gold.
The entire floor hummed in resonance with his flame.
Then—
A deep, ancient pulse tore through the air.
DIRECT ASCENT PROTOCOL — GOLDEN ACCESS GRANTED
Danny blinked.
A golden archway formed before him, swirling with ancient script.
It connected Floor 911 directly to Floor 999.
Danny exhaled slowly.
"The summit…"
He looked back—toward the lower floors.
He felt Swift's focused determination.
Jake's stubborn drive.
Jade's chaotic momentum.
Sedge Hat's unreadable neutrality.
And dozens of fighters whose stories had become intertwined with his own.
They would continue their battles.
But his path must now ascend directly.
Danny spread his radiant wings.
One beat.
Two.
The chamber filled with light.
He stepped into the golden arch.
For one moment, he felt himself suspended between worlds—
the tower embracing him,
creation singing in his chest,
the memories of ancient dragons whispering through his scales.
Then the portal pulled him upward.
Into blazing light.
Toward the top of the tower.
Toward the summit of creation.
Toward his destiny.
The tower whispered as he vanished:
"Golden Heir…
The end awaits."