Formless Ascension: My Affinity Is Limitless

A strange, unreadable expression passed over the elf’s face. For a fraction of a second, something resembling human emotion flickered in his fathomless eyes — a faint echo of a distant era, a time when such personal grief held weight to him.

A wry, quiet smile touched the Towermaster’s lips. He remained silent for several seconds before smoothly steering the dialogue back toward the nature of Origin and Uhtred’s Formless core.

"Boy," he called out softly. "What do you know about the conflict you have been caught in?"

Uhtred trembled where he stood, forcing his unstable breath back into a steady rhythm.

Regardless of who his father was, or the cold calculations behind his conception, he was standing here right now, alive, breathing, and conscious. The past could not be undone.

But that did not mean the rage within him was gone.

Still, he was pragmatic enough to recognize that the Towermaster was intentionally shifting the topic to give him space to regain his composure.

Uhtred responded, his voice hard:

"I have no fucking idea. But looking at the fucked-up circumstances of my birth, I’m guessing it’s a whole other level of a shitshow!"

There was a vicious bite to his words, and the Towermaster permitted it, offering a faint, understanding smile.

"My words may sound patronizing, but if there is a bright side to your birth, it is that your father has achieved the impossible," he said, his eyes boring into Uhtred’s as if to urge him to feel proud. "For the first time in the history of the System Integrated Multiverse, a person with a valid, System-recognized Formless core... has been born."

"You possess the capacity to reach heights that every great power across the multiverse has strived for, yet failed to attain. You possess the power to—"

He cut himself off mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as if sensing something from the great beyond. He immediately altered his words:

"—I will not sugarcoat reality for you. By the time you leave this Tower trial, the entire multiverse will be aware of your presence. The ancient empires, the supreme factions, the great entities — they will all know you exist. You are doomed to a fate filled with suffering and sorrow. You will never know rest for as long as you breathe, and you will bring doom to all you know. Your loved ones will turn against you... Your world will turn against you... Your universe will turn against you... "

He paused, his eyes oddly pitying and cold at the same time.

"However, so long as you do not utter that word with your own mouth... so long as you never reveal that you possess Origin, ’they’ cannot move against you directly. And as long as they cannot move against you directly... we might actually stand a chance."

Uhtred stared at the Towermaster, his eyes hollow.

Then, a sudden, sharp sound broke from his throat.

He burst into a fit of laughter. It was a dark, erratic sound as his mind struggled to process the absurdity of the revelation.

He laughed until it turned into a raw, gut-wrenching roar. Then he yelled, cursing at the void until his throat burned. His entire body trembled violently. He dropped to his knees, a low groan of agony tearing from his chest as he slammed his fists into the shimmering glass floor again and again, splitting his knuckles until blood smeared across the starlight surface, desperate to release the suffocating pressure building in his chest.

Just when he thought he was finally standing on the verge of stepping into the open — free to exercise his strength without hiding — he discovered that his true trial hadn’t even begun.

Right from the moment of his birth, not even at the moment of the integration, but from the very moment he breathed his first on planet Earth, he had been cursed.

Cursed by a father he had never known. Cursed to bear a fate he never had a say in. To carry a cross he never asked for...

He knew with certainty that the Towermaster meant every single word he said. An ageless entity like him would not lie about such a thing.

Uhtred remained on the ground, his forehead resting against the cold glass as the seconds stretched into minutes. He felt the full, crushing weight of unwillingness wash over him.

He tried to reject it... to deny that this monstrous fate belonged to him. But as the fog of panic cleared, he recognized the futility of denial.

Then came the rage.

A cold, burning fury directed at his absent father, at the cruel coldness of damning him to such a fate, at the powers involved in forcing this burden onto him, at whatever ongoing schemes and wars he’d been born into as a major piece.

When the anger burned itself out, a hollow numbness settled in.

A quiet part of him — the mortal, human part — tempted him to simply stop. If he let go now... if he allowed himself to fail in this trial, the burden would end.

He hadn’t asked to be born into this mess. He could choose to walk away from it. Whatever happened to Origin, or his Formless core, was not his responsibility.

Yet even as the thought formed, Uhtred knew it was a lie.

He cared. He had always cared.

Whether it was because of the accursed Eternal bloodline of his father running in his veins, he didn’t know. But long before the System ever arrived, back in the ordinary, mundane days of planet Earth, the relentless drive to push past limits had always burned inside him.

From his academics, to sports, to every single thing he found himself doing, he had never been capable of standing still or settling for second best.

After the integration changed the world, that same drive had compelled him forward.

While others struggled to find purpose amidst the chaos, to find a reason to adapt, Uhtred had moved like a man possessed, carving his way through beasts, dungeons, and trials simply because he refused to be weak.

Slowly, the despair began to recede, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity.

So what if his path was soaked in blood? So what if it was written in the stars that he was destined to walk a miserable path?

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to change it. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t push back. That didn’t mean he would dance to the tunes that had been playing long before he was born.

Uhtred raised his head. His breathing evened out, his expression settling into a still, unreadable calm.

Standing opposite him, the Towermaster watched the transition. As he saw the storm of grief and rage settle into an unwavering conviction, the elf couldn’t help but crack a wide, genuine smile.

Uhtred pushed himself up off the floor, rising smoothly to his feet. He wiped the blood from his bruised knuckles onto his trousers, meeting the Towermaster’s gaze without a trace of fear.

"That is a terrible fate you just described," Uhtred said, letting out a soft, dry chuckle. "It is enough to drive any man to dread and despair..."

He paused.

"...but I am not just any man. I am Uhtred, son of Freja. First of my name. Earth’s mightiest ascender."

His voice grew steadier with every word, ringing with authority.

"So what if I’ve been fated for pain and suffering? I will tear that fate to pieces. Starting with this Tower, I will make the multiverse know my name. Let them come. Let every empire, every faction, and every great power come at me. With these hands, I will slaughter them all!"

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