They roamed the sky, rose from the sea, and emerged from nothing but shadows.
Creatures born solely to devour, to annihilate.

As chaos swallowed the world, a tower descended from the heavens—a colossal, god-given sanctuary. It incinerated anything that dared approach, shielding the last remnants of humanity.

It was called the Tower of Leo.

A long, weary sigh broke the silence.

A boy with dark hair lowered the book he had been reading. His brown skin gleamed faintly in the dim light, his sharp features and dark eyes carrying a maturity beyond his years. His clothes were simple, almost insignificant: black pants, a white shirt, and black shoes.

“I’m tired of hearing this story.” His voice was flat, almost hollow, as he turned to the girl beside him.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” she snapped, her sky-blue eyes narrowing. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, her boyish attire clashing with the sharp femininity of her features.

“What’s your problem, Adam?”

“Maybe it’s the number of times I’ve heard this story, Eve.” His tone dripped with impatience.

The door creaked.

A boy with messy black hair and striking green eyes entered, his beige skin unnaturally clean for an orphan.

“The married couple is fighting again?” he said with a wide, teasing grin.

“SHUT UP, SELEPH!” The two children yelled in perfect unison.

An elderly woman in a nun’s habit approached, her soft blue eyes carrying quiet wisdom. She flicked Adam and Eve on the forehead.

“Watch your language,” she said lightly.

Then she turned to Seleph.

“And you. Stop bothering them. There are other ways to amuse yourself.”

“It’s not my fault their names are Adam and Eve,” Seleph shrugged.

Adam stood abruptly, anger flashing in his eyes.

“My name isn’t Adam. It’s Adamas.”

Eve rested a hand on Seleph’s shoulder, smiling faintly.

“And what’s my real name?”

“A-ah… I was just joking, Evelyn.”

Another voice entered the room, calm but teasing.

“Your names are long for the younger kids.”

A slightly older girl stepped in—Elia, tall for her age, her short brown hair framing warm brown eyes. She had the aura of an older sister. Behind her, five younger children tumbled into the room, laughter and screams filling the air.

“You’re back from your walk, Elia?” Mother Lyvie asked, voice soft.

“Why don’t you ever walk with us, Adam?”

“Not interested.”

“I prefer teasing these two,” Seleph said, resting a hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“As your big sister, I worry about you three,” Elia said with a gentle sigh.

“You’re not my sister,” Adam replied, flatly reopening his book. “And you’re only four years older.”

“Twelve is still older than eight,” she countered, smug. “Which makes me the oldest sibling.”

Eve watched the younger children wreak chaos.

“This is the only time Mother Lyvie can read peacefully,” she murmured.

“True,” Elia agreed.

Adam glanced at the clock.

“When is the fake priest coming back?”

“It’s Father Langton,” Mother Lyvie corrected, exhaling. “I know he drinks, but he’s still a priest. Show some respect.”

“It’s not like he cares,” Adam muttered.

“He went to the main Church on the fifth floor. I don’t know when he’ll return.”

“The fifth floor… that’s where the Church of Leo’s headquarters are, right?” Adam’s book closed with a snap.

Mother Lyvie stiffened. His curiosity, his insistence, it was dangerous.

“Adam,” she said quietly but firmly, “we talked about this. Forget it.”

Elia, Eve, and Seleph exchanged tense glances, confusion and unease thick in the air.

“The fifth floor is the highest. Why would Father Langton need to go there?” Adam pressed.

“That’s not something you need to know.”

Eve peered at the cover of his book.

“You know there are seven floors, not five.”

“…I know.”

“So you’re reading about the Lion Orders,” she said, squinting. “The Golden Lion Order this time?”

Adam’s eyes stared forward, empty yet intense.

“The Black Lion Order explores the outside world,” he recited softly. “The White Lion Order enforces law inside the tower. And the Golden Lion Order protects the royal family… and supports the others.”

“I didn’t ask,” Eve thought. “So why the Golden?”

“…Because it’s the best.”

“You’re weird,” she whispered, uneasy.

Adam moved to the window, gaze distant.

“I need to climb,” he murmured. “Up. All the way to the top.”

“ENOUGH, ADAM!” Mother Lyvie’s voice thundered, shaking the room.

Silence fell like a shroud. Her voice rarely rose.

“Is it that serious?” Seleph whispered.

“You don’t understand how the tower works,” Elia murmured, sorrow in her voice.

Mother Lyvie grabbed Adam’s shoulders, panic radiating.

“You must never say that to anyone. Do you understand!?”

Adam pushed her hands away gently and walked out, his expression unreadable.

“ADAM!” she cried, collapsing into a chair, hands trembling.

“If it hears him… if it knows… I don’t want to imagine the consequences…”

Elia comforted her, gesturing for Eve and Seleph to follow.

They found him minutes later.

He stood atop a ruined building, overlooking the first floor—a sprawling slum.

Filthy, narrow streets. Homeless bodies in shadows. Women calling for coins. Homes barely standing, crumbling wood and rotting paint.

And piercing the sky, a colossal pillar of light and stone—the only path upward.

“Scalae,” Adam whispered, voice low, almost reverent.

Eve dragged Seleph toward the building.

“Do you know why he’s obsessed with the top?” Seleph asked quietly. “We’ve been here since we were babies… but Adam arrived only two years ago. Do you think… he was abandoned?”

“No idea,” Eve murmured. Then she froze.

Seleph stumbled into her.

“Ow—what was tha—”

“Found him.” Eve’s voice trembled.

“HOW THE HELL DID HE GET UP THERE!?” Seleph’s voice cracked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Eve said, urgency in her tone. “We’re going.”

They reached the rooftop door. Eve pushed it open.

Adam stood at the ledge, wind tugging at his hair and clothes.

“That’s dangerous,” Eve warned.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Adam’s voice was calm, detached.

“I saw you here once. Two years ago.”

“Walking here? Do you know how dangerous this place is?” Adam said evenly. “Without that drunk priest, we wouldn’t even be allowed on this floor. This whole place is garbage.”

“So we’re garbage?” Seleph growled.

“No. I don’t belong here.”

Seleph lunged, grabbing Adam by the collar.

“What is WRONG with you!? Aren’t we… family?”

Adam gripped Seleph’s wrist tightly.

“No,” he said softly. “We aren’t.”

Seleph froze, hurt blending with rage. Adam’s expression remained cold, empty.

Then—

“Wh-What… is that?” Eve whispered, dread thick in her voice.

All eyes turned upward.

Something formed in the sky, blotting out the sun.

From nothing, a shape emerged.

“They roamed the sky… rose from the sea… appeared from thin air…” Eve whispered, fear lacing every word.