The Tower doesn’t punish the wicked. It teaches them how to survive.

The Tower does not judge.

It observes.

Those cast into the Tower are not executed, nor forgiven. They are contained—sealed away from the world above and forced to endure a system designed to test obedience, faith, and endurance without mercy.

Inside, survival demands compromise. Belief becomes a liability. Every choice carries consequence, and every step forward costs something that cannot be reclaimed. The Tower offers no clear rules, no promise of salvation—only the slow, grinding certainty that those who endure will not remain who they were.

Some cling to hope.

Others embrace cruelty.

Most are reshaped beyond recognition.

As the Tower tightens its grip, its true purpose begins to surface—not as a place of punishment, but as a crucible that turns suffering into something far more dangerous.

Because the Tower does not exist to destroy monsters.

It exists to make them.