The ancient history of humanity's downfall continued to flow into my mind, seamless and overwhelming. Millennia passed in the torrent of information, the isolated Earth cycling through forgotten eras. Then, a new turning point: humanity, cloistered behind the veil of Babel, was eventually rediscovered.
The same jealous sovereigns who had shattered the Original Tongue now sought to claim Earth's resources, unleashing grotesque monsters upon the planet, initiating the invasion that had ravaged my world and plunged it into chaos.
In response, the Tower of Babel, now sentient and imbued with humanity's last vestiges of power and resentment, awakened. It had been meticulously planning humanity's return, patiently waiting for the opportune moment. As Babel reawakened, it had teleported all surviving humans into its protective embrace, bringing them within its formidable walls. And within the Tower, through its influence, humans across the globe began experiencing visions, dreams, and flashbacks, and, crucially, received the mark of the Original Tongue, awakening diverse powers.
The most profound revelation followed: The Original Tongue itself was revealed to have two halves. There was the Tongue of Beginning (1-50% proficiency). And then, there was the Tongue of the End (50-100% proficiency), an untouched territory, the true, fearsome power. It was the absolute cessation of existence, the finality that underpins all things.
As this information integrated, a profound, undeniable shift occurred within me. A new warmth spread through my core, distinct from the cold power of my existing abilities. It was a resonance, a connection I hadn't felt before. Suddenly, I understood the sensation: I, too, was awakening the Original Tongue of the Beginning, just as Babel had done for every other survivor. It was a distinct, burgeoning power, one that whispered of creation, of possibility, of drawing forth from the void.
But then, the contradiction slammed into me, sharp and discordant. If Babel was responsible for awakening the Original Tongue of the Beginning for humanity, what, then, had awakened my Original Tongue of the End? My existing, dominant power, the one that had allowed me to survive, to die, to rebirth, to become a monster—that power had preceded Babel's direct intervention. It had been forged in the crucible of my personal hell, not gifted by a cosmic entity.
The question echoed in the boundless chamber, deafening in its implication: What am I?