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"Congratulations, Adventurer, you have made it to the top of the Tower. In recognition of your deeds, you can-"
The flickering figment of an old man rambles on with a speech you've heard a thousand times. Any adventurer who capped their level can reach the top of the tower, as intended by the laws of the Celestial Clockwork. Immortality, priceless treasures, weapons that can sunder reality itself, power that exceeds the gods... you found all of these and more during the ten years that you've been farming the top of the tower.
Kings bow and scrape before you in hopes of finding your favor. Merchants would empty their treasure vaults to obtain the trash you pick up on your travails. The wisest of sages seek your counsel for all that you have seen and learned upon your journey. Knights beg the honor to match swords with you, when they aren't begging the honor of your hand. Your beauty matches your strength, and when you reach the level cap there are none in this world nor the next with the power to oppose you.
<span class="mu-i">Yet nothing satisfies you anymore.</span>
Ennui takes you, it stills your heart and makes what should have been another satisfying victory a hollow pile of meaningless dust. Your overwhelming and unchallengeable strength is a curse. Nothing challenges you. Even when you hire yourself a burly man to beat you, to push you down and sate your womanly urges, you barely feel anything for the tremendous difference in strength. Your heart yearns for the thrill of the knifes edge, where one false move will lead to your immediate demise... and nothing in this world can give you what you want.
"What treasure will you choose?" the figment asks. A relic of the founders, the first age who created the Stellar Laws and set the system that rules the world in motion.
As always, there are three chests for you to choose from. The uncertainty of a treasure chest is one of the few joys left to you in life, but even that fades when the treasure isn't earned through struggle. How you long to need to fight for it, to feel pain again, to be defeated...
The first treasure is another reliquary sword that can sunder the bonds of space and time to eliminate the concept of distance. You have seventy three such blades, each different from one another, but still quite the same.
The second treasure is a Greater Potion of Eternity. You drank one of these long ago, and can no longer be slain by any means, your eternal existence having become a law of this world. Now, you have a small pantry full of them, to be held over the heads of men and women who think themselves powerful, so you can derive some amusement in watching them squirm.
The last is new. Your heart flutters with a flicker of happiness.
[NEW GAME+]
You immediately choose it. The System Sings, and asks you to select a class. (Roll 1d100)
>Bard
>Dancer
>Hime
>Kunoichi
>Monk
>Ojou
>Priestess
>Shrine Maiden
The flickering figment of an old man rambles on with a speech you've heard a thousand times. Any adventurer who capped their level can reach the top of the tower, as intended by the laws of the Celestial Clockwork. Immortality, priceless treasures, weapons that can sunder reality itself, power that exceeds the gods... you found all of these and more during the ten years that you've been farming the top of the tower.
Kings bow and scrape before you in hopes of finding your favor. Merchants would empty their treasure vaults to obtain the trash you pick up on your travails. The wisest of sages seek your counsel for all that you have seen and learned upon your journey. Knights beg the honor to match swords with you, when they aren't begging the honor of your hand. Your beauty matches your strength, and when you reach the level cap there are none in this world nor the next with the power to oppose you.
<span class="mu-i">Yet nothing satisfies you anymore.</span>
Ennui takes you, it stills your heart and makes what should have been another satisfying victory a hollow pile of meaningless dust. Your overwhelming and unchallengeable strength is a curse. Nothing challenges you. Even when you hire yourself a burly man to beat you, to push you down and sate your womanly urges, you barely feel anything for the tremendous difference in strength. Your heart yearns for the thrill of the knifes edge, where one false move will lead to your immediate demise... and nothing in this world can give you what you want.
"What treasure will you choose?" the figment asks. A relic of the founders, the first age who created the Stellar Laws and set the system that rules the world in motion.
As always, there are three chests for you to choose from. The uncertainty of a treasure chest is one of the few joys left to you in life, but even that fades when the treasure isn't earned through struggle. How you long to need to fight for it, to feel pain again, to be defeated...
The first treasure is another reliquary sword that can sunder the bonds of space and time to eliminate the concept of distance. You have seventy three such blades, each different from one another, but still quite the same.
The second treasure is a Greater Potion of Eternity. You drank one of these long ago, and can no longer be slain by any means, your eternal existence having become a law of this world. Now, you have a small pantry full of them, to be held over the heads of men and women who think themselves powerful, so you can derive some amusement in watching them squirm.
The last is new. Your heart flutters with a flicker of happiness.
[NEW GAME+]
You immediately choose it. The System Sings, and asks you to select a class. (Roll 1d100)
>Bard
>Dancer
>Hime
>Kunoichi
>Monk
>Ojou
>Priestess
>Shrine Maiden
