Sol's eyes were completely engulfed in blinding light, forcing him to cover them with his palm as he stepped through the gate of light. Gradually, the intensity dwindled until it became bearable enough for him to open his eyes.
"Wow…" Sol gasped at the scenery before him.
The path ahead was paved with gold, flanked by an endless garden of the most dazzling flowers he had ever seen in his life. In the far distance stood a grand tower painted white and gold, stretching above the clouds. Sol slowly shifted his attention to a statue of an angel with four heads—one human, one eagle, one lion, and one ox. It had four wings full of eyes, wrapped around it like a cloak, while it held a stone tablet inscribed with strange letters.
"Cast Aside Thy Worldly Burdens On The Road Of Rumination. Only One Free Of Worldly Worries Can Ascend The Heavenly Steps."
Sol was surprised that he could understand the words. As far as he was concerned, English was the only language he could speak, yet he could clearly read the inscription.
"Cast aside worldly burdens? As in… forget my problems?" Sol muttered thoughtfully as he tried to make sense of the message.
He pondered for several seconds, wondering if it referred to his problems—like the possibility of being arrested and sentenced to death for murdering his parents. If that was the case, then there should be no issue. With his future secured as an ascendant, Sol was certain he would be pardoned for his crimes.
Shrugging aside his worries, Sol began his journey in high spirits. He didn't rush toward the tower. Instead, he walked through the garden, taking his time to enjoy the breathtaking scenery. Birds perched on his shoulders and head, chirping loudly as he hummed along. Anyone watching this boy approach the Tower of Heaven would never believe he was about to face trials that could end his life.
As Sol drew closer, the Tower of Heaven began to take shape, revealing a structure so massive that its boundaries could not be discerned. A few miles away from the tower lay the edge of the earth itself—beyond it was a bottomless pit, from which the Tower of Heaven rose.
"Hmmm…"
Sol stared at the thick darkness engulfing the tower's base before shifting his attention back to the golden path, which continued forward as a floating golden bridge leading to the entrance. Looking up, he noticed something strange: daylight ended where the garden stopped, and from the golden bridge onward, it was night, illuminated by a full moon. Witnessing two time zones existing side by side left him awestruck.
"Here goes nothing."
Setting distractions aside, Sol pressed forward. He walked across the steady bridge with the confidence of a man bold enough to challenge fate. It took over thirty minutes before he reached the other end, where the Tower of Heaven stood like a central pillar holding the heavens aloft.
Staring at the thousand stairs leading up to the door, Sol rolled his eyes in exhaustion. The first half of the journey had been enjoyable, but the second half was nothing but stress.
"I just hope I get to rest a bit when I get in there."
Shrugging aside his worries, Sol took the first step.
Ding!
The sound of a cathedral bell rang in his head. The next moment, his nose was assaulted by the sharp scent of antiseptics. His vision blurred, but he could still make out two faces looking at him with warm smiles. The love and warmth in their eyes were feelings he had long forgotten.
"Mom… Dad…" Sol's voice cracked.
Pa!
Sol's eyes widened as blood gushed from his left shoulder. It felt like a razor-sharp whip tore through his flesh as easily as a hot knife through butter. There was no resistance at all.
Clutching the wound, Sol wore a bitter smile on his sweat-soaked face. His mind raced, struggling to process what had just happened.
"Cast Aside Thy Worldly Burdens On The Road Of Rumination. Only One Free Of Worldly Worries Can Ascend The Heavenly Steps."
Sol repeated the words softly, wondering if his initial interpretation had been wrong.
Ding!
The bell rang again. This time, the next stair lit up with golden light.
'I don't understand. Am I supposed to move?' Sol gritted his teeth, held his wound, and stepped forward.
SWOOOSH!
Sol found himself on a bed while his parents argued violently. Though they stood right in front of him, screaming at each other, he couldn't intervene. His mother slapped his father. He responded by grabbing her hair and punching her face. The brutal scene made Sol clench his fists.
Pa!
"Aaah!"
A sharp whistle cut through the air. Sol barely managed to raise his right hand to block before his wrist was severed, blood spraying from the open wound.
Bam!
He collapsed to one knee, staring at his severed hand in disbelief as blood continued to spurt. The pain was nerve-wracking, threatening to make him scream, but he clenched his teeth and endured it.
'If I'd been a second late, I would've lost my head.'
His brows knitted tightly.
He hadn't expected the trial to be this brutal from the very beginning.
"What exactly is the baggage I'm meant to abandon?" Sol muttered, forcing his attention back to the problem. He recalled the memories he had just experienced.
The first was his birth. At first, it seemed harmless—until he noticed the affection in their eyes. That was when the vision ended abruptly, followed by an attack. The same happened during the memory of their argument. He hadn't felt anything until the violence started, and then the vision ended again.
'Is it safe to say I only get attacked when I reveal attachment to these memories?' Sol speculated.
It was the only conclusion that made sense.
"Cast Aside Thy Worldly Burdens On The Road Of Rumination. Only One Free Of Worldly Worries Can Ascend The Heavenly Steps," Sol muttered again, realization creeping into his voice.
Ding!
His head snapped up as the next stair lit with golden light.
HUUUWEEEEEII!
The whistle came again. Without hesitation, Sol leapt to the next stair. The whip lashed where he had been standing as his vision blurred.
Swoosh!
The world unraveled once more. He was back in the room—silent, except for soft sobbing. Sol tried to move but couldn't. His gaze drifted to the familiar window. Night had fallen.
When he looked forward again, his mother stood over him, staring down with cold eyes. Her disheveled hair hid much of her face, but bruises mixed with sweat and blood were visible.
'It happened, and that's all right. There was nothing I could do,' Sol muttered as she grabbed his neck and began to squeeze.
She was trying to strangle her own child.
Sol's eyes widened in shock as he stared into her eyes—dead, cold, empty.
He was speechless.
These were memories he hadn't even known existed. Memories of a baby hated simply for existing. Even a psychopath murderer felt pain witnessing such cruelty.
"If I never had you and kept him satisfied, he would never have looked outside," she hissed as the pressure increased.
Sol could only watch helplessly as the baby cried and choked. A single tear slid down his face, and the vision trembled.
HUUUWEEEEEII!
Pa!
Blood sprayed everywhere, but Sol remained still, staring blankly into the distance. His severed palm spun through the air as he blocked the invisible strike. This time, there was no pain.
"I… I understand now," Sol muttered lifelessly.
He reached for his neck, feeling it gently as the memory replayed in his mind. Something inside him snapped—shifted.
"I understand now," he repeated, voice hollow.
Sol continued ascending the stairs. Each step brought a fragmented memory. With every vision, he felt more detached, like an observer watching from afar. He learned to dissociate while remaining present.
For the first time, he truly understood detachment.
He had believed he killed his parents because he wasn't attached to them. He was wrong. He killed them because he was deeply attached.
Every time he saw classmates with loving families, jealousy stabbed into him. At PTA meetings, every display of warmth was a dagger.
"I killed them out of love, not hatred," Sol muttered as he stood on the thousandth stair. "I couldn't bear to see them live like that anymore. So I killed them."
His body was mutilated. Both hands were gone. Lash marks covered him. Blood pooled beneath his feet. His breathing was ragged, yet his eyes were empty.
"I killed them…"
"Because you loved them. Yes. Yes, you did."
The voice was deep, forged by the flames of time.
Sol lazily traced its source. A man stood between two colossal sculptures flanking a massive golden double door. His hair was white as snow. A mustache framed his face neatly. He wore a black tuxedo and a monocle, standing calmly as he observed Sol.
"Welcome, Ascendant. I am a designated guide tasked with educating and advising you as you climb the tower," the Guide said flatly, unbothered by Sol's condition.