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Before I even realized it, over fifty days and nights had slipped past in the land of Palpagos.
I was no longer the clueless castaway who first washed ashore on these beaches. I had learned the unspoken rules and hidden paths of this realm inside out. Through endless trials and exploration, my own strength had grown steady and sure, and a band of formidable Pal companions had gathered by my side.
Then, after a long silence, the task display on my handheld device flickered to life. I knew it was time to take the next step. This was not just about fulfilling my promise to the islanders searching for a peaceful life—it was about claiming the key spheres held by the tower bosses.
Eight of these spheres lay hidden across the archipelago, and only by gathering every last one could I tear through the fog and lay bare the truth of this world. With my current strength, I could reliably claim four. Combined with the one Zoe had entrusted to me, that would bring my total to five.
As for the leaders behind the remaining three, their power far eclipsed my own. Those doors would have to wait until I forged myself into something stronger.
For now, I gripped those five keys in my hand, ready to uncover the answers meant for this stage of my journey.
LILY & LYLEEN: Free Pal Alliance Tower
Used under fair use for commentary, criticism, and educational purposes.
The doctor was sitting on an outdoor wooden bench, her conical hat pulled low, a quiet Pal perched on the small table beside her. As I approached, she looked up, her gaze searching. Her voice was calm, yet it carried a faint, unspoken worry.
“A Pal Tamer, by the look of your gear,” she said. “Could you lend me a hand? Something is wrong with the Free Pal Alliance lately. They used to be a peaceful group dedicated to protecting Pals, but now they’re constantly attacking travelers. I can’t just turn a blind eye. Would you check out the site of their latest ambush?”
Following her directions to the scene, I found scattered backpacks, crushed Pal Spheres, and an empty medicine bottle on the ground. The tracks proved the Pals had indeed been attacked, yet members of the Alliance had also patched up their wounds afterward.
The sheer contradiction of it left me baffled.
When I returned with the evidence, the doctor took the items and let out a quiet sigh. She mentioned a merchant she had treated recently—another victim of an Alliance raid.
“In the past, they would never resort to violence just because someone used a Pal,” she said, her brow furrowing as her eyes drifted toward the horizon. “I suspect the root of this lies with Lily. I’ve watched that girl grow up. She was always honest and kindhearted. But ever since she took charge of the Alliance, she hasn’t visited once, and that’s right when everything began to twist. Please, help me track down where she went.”
Following the trail deep into a mountain cavern, I found a letter left on a rough wooden table. In it, Lily wrote that she had taken over the Alliance hoping she and the Pals could live out their days in peace alongside nature. Yet the world refused to change its ways.
The breaking point came when she caught her own subordinates secretly selling protected Pals. Upon being confronted, they merely sneered, claiming that “Pals are just Pals after all.”
That was the moment her patience ran out. She chose to abandon her morality, resolving to purge this rotten world with pure fury.
When I handed the letter to the doctor, she could barely contain her grief. Lily had completely given up on humanity. Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the paper, her voice trembling with quiet desperation.
“Help her,” she pleaded. “You don’t have to convince her to change her mind… Just pull her back. Don’t let her fall completely into the abyss.”
Having accepted the plea, I didn’t hesitate.
When Lily and her Queen of Lilies, Lyleen, finally ceased their struggle on the scorched earth beside Moonstart Lake, even the wind seemed to hold its breath. As her form faded into the air, a softly glowing Key Sphere of Pride came to rest on the blackened ground.
I knelt to pick it up. My fingers didn’t meet the icy cold I had expected, but a lingering, faint heat left over from the clash. Etched onto its surface was an ancient inscription:
“The sin of arrogantly seeking coexistence, and bringing forth the Calamity.”
So Lily’s despair had never come from hatred—it was an ideal completely betrayed by the world. Even this sphere, which carried her lingering obsession, retained a warmth that refused to cool. It wasn’t the heat of a weapon, but the last unquenched ember of an idealist who had burned herself to ash.
When I saw the doctor again with the sphere in hand, she fell silent for a long time before speaking softly.
“In truth, this is only the beginning,” she murmured. “Lily isn’t the type to change her mind easily, but every time she stumbles, she picks herself back up and keeps walking her path.” She paused, a gentle yet unshakable warmth filling her eyes. “Until then, I’ll need to take care of her.”
She offered a faint smile as I turned to leave, reminding me to go easy on her next time—Lily had hated antiseptics ever since she was a little girl, terrified of the sting.
AXEL & ORSERK: Brothers of the Eternal Pyre Tower
The air inside the tavern was thick and suffocating. Stepping up to the bar, I slid next to a flushed veteran drinker with a mug of ale, trying to glean a few rumors about the Brothers of the Eternal Pyre.
He let out a heavy hiccup, his eyes hazy. “They used to keep to themselves, really,” he mumbled. “As far as flame-worshipping cults go, anyway. Kept to the mountains, spent all day meditating and training. When their old leader kicked the bucket, we all figured their little flame would just die out.
“Then this new boss shows up out of nowhere—guy named Axel. Word is, the Brothers picked him up off the side of the road, looking like a total wreck. But beneath that ragged look, the guy was burning with this crazy drive. He whipped those cultists into shape real quick. Ever since, the whole lot of ’em has gone way too fanatical for anyone’s good.”
He leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a low murmur. “If you’re looking to dig deeper, you’d better watch your step. Curiosity’s a quick way to buy yourself real trouble. If you still want to ask around, try finding the wandering merchant near the mountain lake. He’s always trekking through those peaks selling wares; he knows far more than I do.”
Thanking the old drinker, I followed his directions up toward the mountain lake. A merchant resting on a rock with a heavy pack on his back looked up as I approached. I slipped a copper coin into his palm and dropped the tavern regular’s name.
Only then did his shoulders relax. He unbuckled his pack to let me browse while keeping his tone hushed.
“A Pal Tamer, huh? Guess it makes sense why you’re asking about them,” he muttered, sorting through his goods. “That crew’s always been odd, but they used to be harmless enough. Then this new leader showed up, and the whole dynamic turned sour. Gathering info on them isn’t as easy as it used to be. If you want the real scoop, head to the village entrance and talk to the officer. He watches everyone coming in and going out; he’ll know how to deal with those zealots best.”
Reaching the edge of the settlement, the officer immediately stepped forward to meet me. “Hey, you’re back! Did you find out anything?”
I laid out everything I’d gathered from the drinker and the merchant. He listened in silence, letting out a long, heavy sigh when I finished.
“Ah… I see,” he said, his expression troubled. “So this Axel guy arrives and reignites a fire that was practically dead out. What a waste… From the sound of it, he doesn’t even seem like a bad guy at heart. I mean, he doesn’t sound bloodthirsty. But he takes things way too seriously, pushing everything to the absolute extreme.”
He paused, a tone of earnest plea creeping into his voice. “I hate to ask, but… is there any way you could force him to cool down? Even if you just kick some sense into him, maybe it’ll bring him back to reality and de-escalate things. Don’t worry—for trouble like this, I’ll make sure you’re well rewarded!”
The moment the light of the waypoint faded inside the volcanic cavern, scorching air thick with the stench of sulfur flooded my lungs. I didn’t look back to check the path behind me—some battlefields only offer one way forward.
When Axel and his ferocious dragon finally crashed to their knees beside the bubbling magma pit, even the surging heat waves seemed to freeze for a split second. A Key Sphere of Sloth, shimmering with a dark teal hue, slipped from his chest and lodged itself into a crack in the glowing basalt.
I reached out and pried it free. My fingertips didn’t encounter warmth, but a suffocating, icy inertia—like holding a handful of solidified ash. Etched onto its surface was a line of faded script:
“The sin of abandoning one’s humanity, descending the path to ruin.”
So he had never truly fought at all. It wasn’t that he lacked the strength to swing a blade, but that he refused to bear the weight of intervention. He had simply stood at the edge of the lava, watching Pals lose control and villages burn to cinders, treating his own inaction as the purest form of devotion to his faith. The coldness of this sphere wasn’t an absence of heat; it was the final, frozen cinder left behind after an idealist snuffed out his own humanity.
When I returned to the village to report, the officer rushed over, his face beaming with relief.
“So you actually took care of Axel! I knew you had it in you! It’ll probably take a while for those cultists’ fanaticism to completely wear off, but at least the fire won’t burn out of control anymore.” He slapped my shoulder, his enthusiasm spilling over. “What a fight! You wiped out a major menace in one clean sweep. My friend, you’re the talk of the town now! Everyone can finally breathe easy and get back to living in peace…”
With that, the chaos Axel brought came to a complete close, and the town finally broke free from the shadow of fanaticism. Yet this moment of peace was brief. I knew far tougher adversaries were waiting ahead, and after a short rest, it would be time to take to the trail once more.
MARCUS & FALERIS: PIDF Tower
The clues pointing to the fourth tower led me to a desert town nestled in the region of Duneshelter.
The moment I set foot in the settlement, a merchant standing near the entrance called out to me.
“You look like you’re a long way from home, Pal Tamer,” he said, sizing me up with a calculating look. “If you’ve got the guts to come out this far, maybe you won’t mind hearing me out?”
He explained that he had traded in these parts for years, but life was growing harder by the day.
“The PIDF is supposed to keep order, but you can’t trust a single one of them—especially their boss, Marcus Dryden,” he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Stims are running rampant, wrecking people’s bodies. I reported it once, and all they did was haul off a low-level dealer while slapping everyone with sky-high ‘protection fees.’ Keep this up, and the whole town will turn to dust. Don’t take my word for it, though. Go talk to the others in town. See the truth with your own eyes.”
I followed his direction and found the first resident nearby. Seeing an unfamiliar face, she looked startled. “A Pal Tamer? We don’t get many of your kind around here!”
Yet when I asked about her life in town, her answer was the complete opposite of the merchant’s. “With Marcus and the PIDF protecting us, we’re doing better than most settlements out there.”
When I brought up the stims, however, panic instantly flashed across her face. “If you mean the drugs for the Pals, go ask the merchant over there…” She cut herself off mid-sentence, looking away nervously. “Wow, look at the time! I need to practice my archery! Sorry!”
The second resident’s reaction was stranger still. When I pressed for answers, he glared at me suspiciously. “Who are you?” Then his tone flared up with sudden aggression. “What’s it like living here? How would you feel if a bunch of crooks found every excuse to bleed you dry?”
The very next second, he frantically waved his hands, practically yelling as if terrified of being overheard. “No, no, no! Don’t twist my words! This place is practically paradise!” He broke into a harsh cough, raising his voice even louder. “No struggling through the sand, no Pal attacks—worst thing that happens is running out of booze! Marcus is a saint, I tell ya!”
That forced praise and his darting eyes revealed far more than any outright complaint ever could.
Returning to the town entrance with a mind full of doubts, the merchant let out a heavy sigh.
“This town isn’t what it used to be,” he said softly. “But you’ve seen what you needed to see.” He gestured toward the east. “Head that way. There’s an old tunnel hidden in the rock wall. The PIDF claims it’s a rebel hideout and strictly forbade anyone from getting close, but I’ve seen their own officers coming and going with my own eyes. It’s a dangerous favor to ask, but I have no one else to turn to.”
Slipping into the hidden tunnel, I discovered a wooden crate tucked into a dark corner. Inside lay piles of suspicious white powder and a ledger. Opening the cover, one name stood out prominently at the top of the client list: Marcus Dryden.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing over there? That’s a restricted area.”
A guard stepped out from the shadows, blocking my way. When I remained silent, he snorted. “Another self-righteous busybody.” To my surprise, he didn’t draw his weapon. Instead, he simply waved his hand. “Lucky for you, you caught me on a good shift. I’ll let you off with a verbal warning. Now get lost.”
As I turned to leave, he muttered under his breath, almost as if talking to himself. “Stims? Yeah, Marcus plays that game better than anyone. Makes an absolute fortune off it.”
Those few words instantly unlocked the full truth.
“First, you hire thugs as pushers to get people hooked so you get a steady stream of easy cash. Then you jack up the prices, forcing them to take out high-interest loans just to buy their next fix. Once they’re bled dry, you hit ’em with massive fines in the name of a ‘drug crackdown.’”
His tone was flat, as if he were telling someone else’s story. “The brilliant part is, nobody can do a thing to him. Believe it or not, this desert was way worse before Marcus came along. Vicious weather, ruthless Pals, cutthroats fighting over who gets to be boss. Once the PIDF moved in, everything changed. Sure, they’re trash, but when everything else is complete hell, the ‘least bad’ option doesn’t look half bad.”
He cut himself off and gestured toward the exit. “Alright, that’s enough out of me. If I were you, I’d check out the PIDF outpost. Marcus used to spend a lot of time there. It’s only because he keeps a tight lid on things that this place hasn’t completely rotted out. As long as you don’t do anything stupid, they won’t even bother lifting a finger.” With a harsh scoff, he turned and strode away. “What are you still standing around for? Move it, before I change my mind.”
Gripping the ledger tight, I made my way straight to the PIDF outpost. Steering clear of the guards outside, I stepped into the commander’s office. A handwritten note lay open on the desk, the handwriting messy, yet every stroke pressed hard into the paper:
It’s survival of the fittest out here. If you aren’t tough enough to hold onto what’s yours, you die. That’s the lesson the slums taught me. That’s why I recruited the worthless trash scraping by in this desert. But I don’t need them anymore. Once I harness the incredible power inside that sphere, everything in the past will look like child’s play.
I know that look in your eyes all too well, pal. You want to take this sphere from me? Then let’s see who the real tough guy is.
There was no signature, but every word oozed cold arrogance—it was Marcus speaking directly.
He had long outgrown merely controlling a small town. The stims were his ropes, the protection fees his chains, and the PIDF his puppets—all just stepping stones. What he truly craved was the “sphere harboring incredible power” and the authority to rewrite the rules of the world.
Carrying the truth back to the settlement, I found the setting sun bathing the dunes in a crimson light. The merchant was waiting at the entrance, his shoulders dropping in relief the moment he saw me return safely.
“You’re back! I was worried something had happened to you.”
I laid out the contents of the ledger and the note without missing a detail. He listened in silence, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“So the stim business was never that simple,” he murmured. When I brought up the “sphere,” his expression darkened. “Then he must have locked himself inside that tower, desperately studying it.” He stared toward the tower looming in the dusk, his voice dropping low. “He really did bring a measure of peace to this desert once, but that peace began crumbling long ago. With ancient power within his grasp, he probably realized his reign was nothing more than a sandcastle washing away… There’s no point in arguing anymore.”
He turned back to face me, his gaze solemn. “This is my final request, Pal Tamer,” he said, bowing his head deeply, his voice trembling with years of suppressed pain and desperate hope. “Please, take down Marcus, and free this village from his twisted rule!”
When I stepped onto the top floor of the PIDF Tower, Marcus was already waiting.
His attacks matched his method of ruling the town—meticulous, suffocating, and unrelenting. The skills of his Pal chained together without giving me a single second to catch my breath, every strike heavy with an absolute demand for control.
Yet beneath that seemingly impenetrable power lay the very obsession written in his note: he was so desperate to control everything that he had forgotten real strength never comes from a cage built on external power.
The moment I caught the flaw in his sequence—a split-second opening exposed by his relentless pursuit of perfection—the rhythm of battle shifted. In the end, the “rules” he relied on to survive shattered under my counterattack, leaving him kneeling on the icy floor.
As he collapsed, a Key Sphere of Greed, glowing with a dark golden light, slid from his coat.
I bent down to pick it up. My fingers didn’t meet the cold hardness of metal, but a heavy, almost obsessive weight. Etched onto its surface was a line of faded script:
“The sin of rejecting one’s fate, seeking the bonds of another.”
So his greed had never been about wealth or power; it was a deep terror of losing control. He had woven a vast net using stims, protection fees, and the PIDF, believing it would allow him to hold his destiny firmly in his grasp—never realizing that the net would ultimately trap no one but himself. The heavy weight of this sphere was the final sigh left behind by a man who tried to fight fate using chains.
When I returned to the village and found the merchant, he froze for a moment before speaking softly.
“You actually did it… So Marcus is finally finished.” His tone carried a lingering sense of disbelief. “I still can’t quite believe it’s real…” Soon, however, that disbelief turned into deep, unreserved gratitude. “You’re a hero. The people in this town might not all see it that way, but in my heart, you truly are.”
He paused, his eyes drifting into the distance. “Marcus’s fall won’t solve all our problems overnight, but as long as we work together, we’ll make things right.” Looking at me with absolute earnestness, he added, “This is all thanks to you, my hero. I’ll pray for you, wishing that you find whatever it is you’re searching for on the journey ahead.”
VICTOR & SHADOWBEAK: PAL Genetic Research Unit Tower
The next trail led me to a completely unfamiliar region. It was an area of extreme altitude, where icy, snow-covered plains stretched as far as the eye could see beneath a biting, fierce wind. Had it not been for the Fire-element Pal at my side helping me ward off the chill, I doubt I could have even kept my footing.
On a frozen plaza, I spotted two locals wrapped in thick coats sitting near a campfire to warm themselves. Looking to gather information about this region, I stepped forward.
The moment she caught sight of me, one of the residents asked if I was a Pal Tamer. When I nodded, her eyes lit up as if clutching at a lifeline, and she begged for my help. She explained that life had been miserable lately—a group of unhinged scientists had raided their settlement not long ago, stealing their precious Kitsun while claiming it was “urgently needed for Dr. Victor’s research.”
Seeing that I was capable, she pleaded with me to bring Kitsun back. The moment I agreed, tears of relief welled in her eyes. She repeatedly warned me to stay safe, pressing some warm food into my hands so I wouldn’t face the road on an empty stomach.
Following her directions, I made my way to a high ridge nearby. A few members of the Research Unit were resting there. Without giving them time to react, I moved quickly to defeat them, spotting a Pal Sphere containing the stolen fox lying on the ground.
When I brought the sphere back to my client, her voice trembled with emotion. “Kitsun’s Pal Sphere! You actually brought it back!”
After thanking me profusely, she asked for one more favor, her expression turning sheepish. She admitted it was a lot to ask, but she wanted me to look into this “Victor” leading the group, terrified he might return to steal more Pals later. She mentioned that his crew used to be stationed in the ruins at the foot of the snowcapped mountain, suggesting I might find answers there. Before I left, she served the warm curry she had promised, insisting I finish it before setting off.
Arriving at the ruins beneath the frozen peak, I discovered a document resting near a massive stone pillar. Skimming through the pages, my stomach sank.
The records noted that the spherical artifact sealed within the tower was part of an ancient sealing mechanism, suggesting similar devices existed in the other towers. Worse still were the entries regarding “predator Pals.” The research facility had been attacked by a frenzied Pal; upon dissection, scientists discovered its body lacked the basic energy required to sustain life, and its violent predatory state was driven entirely by starvation.
The author theorized that the source of this energy was the giant tree, confirming that the island itself was slowly dying. The roots of the giant tree were anchored deep into the planet, and whatever those key spheres were meant to seal was on the verge of breaking free. To prevent a catastrophe, they had to create new containers at any cost—time was running out.
I brought the document back to the resident. Her face grew grave as she read through it. She remarked that Victor must have uncovered these ancient secrets, driving him into these mad experiments, and that stealing Kitsun had been part of the same scheme.
She added that rumors were circulating about Victor capturing humans recently. Then her eyes widened as she remembered something: while I was away investigating, a member of the PAL Genetic Research Unit had come to them seeking help. The man looked gaunt and exhausted; he asked for a bit of food and drink before fleeing in a hurry, claiming he didn’t want to bring trouble down on them. She suspected he was running from Victor’s executioners and begged me to check on his safety.
Following the trail, I found a collapsed house halfway up the mountain. The place was deserted, save for a letter left on the floor.
The handwriting was jagged and desperate. The writer noted that the blizzard was too intense for him to see the path, and he knew he wouldn’t survive the night. He recalled that Victor used to be a pure researcher—quiet, detached, and consumed only by the unknown. That was until the day he accidentally caught a glimpse beneath Victor’s eyepatch, a sight that terrified him so deeply he fled on the spot.
He wrote that Victor had sacrificed countless Pals and human lives without caring in the slightest for the research results themselves—his eyes held only a terrifying gaze that defied all reason, completely stripped of humanity.
At the bottom of the page, he wrote that he could hear footsteps approaching. Remembering the warm curry he had eaten earlier as his last real meal, he felt a deep regret for stealing from such kind people. Accepting his fate as a just punishment, he closed with a simple wish that those gentle villagers would stay safe.
When I returned to the plaza with the letter, the resident let out a long breath of relief at the sight of me. But as she read the words, she fell into a deep silence. She finally understood that Victor had lost his mind entirely, willing to burn everything to achieve his ends.
She looked up, her gaze steady. “We can’t let him go on like this. Pal Tamer… you have to stop him!”
Carrying the weight of her trust, I endured endless hardships before finally scaling the towering spire where Victor resided. The structure reached terrifying heights, wrapped in a cold so severe that almost no living soul could survive it.
When I first stepped onto the tower roof, his onslaught was as cold and precise as the mountain blizzard itself. My Pals fell one after another, and every attempt to fight back was crushed. But I didn’t give up. In the days that followed, I pushed myself to grow stronger, capturing even more powerful companions before challenging him once more.
This time, I didn’t attempt to brute-force his rules. Instead, carrying the weight of all the lives he had treated as expendable, I smashed through the high walls he had built out of despair.
When he finally crashed to the frozen floor, I knew it wasn’t a stronger Pal that had defeated him—it was the final, unquenched echo of the humanity he had tried so hard to bury.
As Victor collapsed, a Key Sphere of Gluttony, shimmering with a dark purple hue, slipped from his coat.
The moment my fingers touched it, I felt no searing greed, but a bottomless, pitiless void. Etched onto its surface was a line of faded script:
“The sin of devouring the lifeblood of the stars, yet never knowing satiety.”
So his “gluttony” had never been a hunger for power or knowledge, but a terror of running out of time. He devoured Pals, devoured his own kind, and devoured his own morals and humanity, believing it would fill the black hole he called “salvation”—never realizing that the more he consumed, the further he strayed from real redemption. The empty void of this sphere was the final, unfillable sigh left behind by a man who tried to fight destruction with destruction.
When I returned to the resident, she stared at me in relief, tears welling in her eyes, yet no smile reached her face.
After a long silence, she spoke softly. “Maybe he had his own reasons… but a noble goal doesn’t justify evil means.” She paused, looking toward the distant ruins buried in snow. “I don’t regret stopping him. It’s just… this peace came at far too high a price.”
She didn’t mention celebrating. Instead, she brought out a bowl of warm curry and set it before me. Though her fingers were still icy cold, her eyes were clearer than ever.
“Eat something,” she said gently. “The road ahead is only going to get harder.”
Leaving the snow-capped peaks behind, I stood alone in the biting wind, looking down at the five spheres gathered in my hands. They rested heavily in my palm, like five open wounds that had yet to heal.
I could feel their deep connection to the World Tree, aligning closely with the clues Zoe had shared before—each sphere was the warped remains of an idealist driven to despair, a bleeding piece of the truth behind this world.
Three more towers were waiting ahead, three deeper scars left to be uncovered.
I didn’t know where the road would take me next, but the only thing I could do was forge myself and my Pal companions into something stronger, preparing for the trials to come. Not for the sake of victory, but to ensure that everything devoured, betrayed, and forgotten would finally be seen—or laid to rest.
Note: This story is adapted from the main lore of Palworld with literary polish and dramatic framing; minor details may differ from the official in-game canon.
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