Tower Of Silence の小説・ストーリー

​The structure rising from the Pacific was not made of stone, steel, or even the living-alloy of Neo-Tokyo. It was a vertical sea of "Static-Data," a skyscraper of crimson light that seemed to bleed directly into the ionosphere. As the Vanes approached in a salvaged hover-skiff, the air itself began to taste like ozone and old code. This was the Tower of Babel, the physical manifestation of the Red Algorithm.

The constant vibration of urgency. The endless pulse of collapsing deals and rising acquisitions. The whisper of betrayal behind polished smiles. The 90th floor of the Zenith Tower had never truly been silent. Even at midnight, even in stillness, it had hummed like a machine that refused to sleep, feeding on pressure, expectation, dominance. Now, in the countryside estate they had chosen as exile and rebirth, silence wasn’t something that happened around him. It happened to him. And at first, he didn’t know how to survive it.

Quiet at first. Then impossible to ignore. We stopped before the tallest tower. Its summit reached into the morning mist. Inside, a spiral staircase circled upward around a column of pale blue light. No one spoke as we climbed. The silence here was not empty. It was respectful. At the very top waited a single room. Round. Simple. Its walls were made entirely of clear crystal. The sky surrounded us on every side. At the center rested an ancient table. Upon it lay an object wrapped in white cloth.

It was the same old chant, and there was nothing that was going on. "Can we go home now?" I asked my best friend James. "No! The fun part hasn't even started yet." He replied rolling his eyes at me. "Is this your version of fun?" I asked annoyed. He paid no attention to my whining. "I'm going to sit there on the sidewalk and watch," I tell James, before moving away from the crowd. For a long time, nothing happened, and I had the serious urge to doze off to sleep. I heard a loud bang, and I watched as the Flynn towers went up in flames. My eyes widened, and

He whispered. Nemyra’s voice was low when she spoke, her hand tightening around his. “This is the other side of the Tower of Oblivion. We call it The Silent Land. It is where the vanishing gods go… to fade quietly. To wait for their end.” Before Prince Ron could respond, a sharp, agonized cry split the silence. One of the gods—a woman with thin strands of grey hair weakly clinging to her scalp, fell to her knees. She sobbed violently, her cries echoing across the empty sky. “No… no… not yet… please, not yet.”

Thud. Thud. Thud. "What the hell is that?" Sam asked as something hit the wall in a continuous motion. It was coming from the room next to ours. Sam and I stared at the wall, wondering what Grace- the girl in the next room- was doing. The thuds grew louder and faster, then it finally dawned on me. My face reddened like a tomato as sounds of Grace moaning filled our whole room. "Holy shit. Grace, it's too early for this." Sam shouted but I knew Grace wouldn't hear anything, she was preoccupied at the moment.

The battlefield reeked of ash and ancient magic. Smoke curled in the silver-streaked sky as Zara stepped forward, boots crunching over broken sigils and shattered marble. Behind her, the remnants of Silver & Vale’s legacy smoldered. The High Tower had collapsed in on itself, a crown of ruin. But the worst wasn’t the fire. It was the silence. The kind of silence that follows after something sacred has been shattered. The kind that settles into bones and stays there.

Again the witch spoke in a foreign tongue and I felt the same pins and needles sensation. Once the witch was done Lorenzo let go of my neck and moved away. "It's gone" He said. I nodded my head and the witch handed me a vial. "What's this?" I asked her taking it. "To erase the last twenty-four hours. Simply pour this into a liquid it's intended target will drink and poof" She said making an explosive hand gesture. "We could put it in the orange juice for breakfast" I suggested looking to Lorenzo and Tony.

Not a single chirp but pairs and pairs that they unsure how many of it. Half of a minute, that's what it took for the those in nest to come, silently just their described by their name "The sãlnes" a k.a "The silence". They are very sensitive to sound, very sensitive, as much as breathe could be caught. They would prefer them silence, and then only sounds they love, maybe the ripping flesh and bone. No one know how it's look, that's all myth but maybe some information at this moment.

He put it to the highest volume so that he won’t hear any noise aside from his music. Meanwhile, a loud noise can be heard in a nearby house. The breaking sound of the glass that comes off the table rang out in the whole house. There, a guy came out of the house while hanging his empty bag on his shoulder. He has this blank and emotionless face while walking out of the house. He looked at his own Harry Winston wrist watch that was a gift to him by his father.