Darkness.
It stretched in every direction. Vast. Absolute.
She inhaled.
No sound. No weight. No sensation beyond her own consciousness drifting in the void.
She had finally entered the tower.
This wasn’t unexpected.
But it still felt wrong.
Even knowing what awaited her, some part of her had clung to the illusion that the Tower would have been different from what she heard about—that stepping through its threshold wouldn’t feel like being swallowed by nothingness.
But here she was. Suspended in the void.
Then—a flicker.
A soft blue glow pulsed in front of her, piercing the abyss like a distant star. The light stretched, expanded, forming something solid.
A translucent window.
The letters shimmered.
[Welcome, Entrant Y121-890310.]
Her breath came slow, steady.
Her number. Not a name. Just a label.
The window flickered again.
[Guideline]
[Missions and objectives can be accessed through the ████████.]
[Censored messages can be accessed once you have accumulated enough ████████.]
[Home is protected.]
Her eyes narrowed.
Censored. Why?
She had expected cryptic instructions. The Tower was notorious for withholding information. But seeing the black bars over the text made her fingers twitch.
She reached out.
Her hand passed through the screen.
Like mist.
Like nothing at all.
A dull ache curled in her stomach. The Tower had stripped her of everything tangible. Even touch felt distant here.
The window pulsed again, the letters shifting.
[Welcome to the ████████ Tower.]
[Through trials, grow. Survive. Ascend.]
[We endeavor in your survival and future accomplishments.]
"Survive."
It wasn’t a threat.
It was a law.
Something shifted.
A deep, vibrating hum rumbled through the void, pressing against her chest like a silent pulse.
The darkness fractured.
The air around her shook and light tore through the abyss.
The void collapsed.
And she fell.
Very quickly, the fall ended in silence.
She didn’t hit the ground.
Not in the way she should have.
Instead, she landed as if the world itself had caught her.
Her legs folded beneath her, but there was no impact, no sharp pain jolting through her body. Just a slow, unnatural descent, as though she had drifted down like a feather—too controlled to be real.
Her hands pressed against the surface beneath her.
Smooth. Cold. Perfect.
The sensation was distant, like touching something through a layer of fabric. Even her own skin felt dull, numbed by the air itself.
Slowly, she exhaled.
Then—she opened her eyes.
The void was gone.
In its place was white.
Endless, blinding white stretched beyond sight, pressing against her from all sides. The walls—if they could even be called that—were smooth and unbroken. No doors. No ceiling. No distinction between space and distance.
The silence was absolute.
She moved to stand, her limbs sluggish, her body adjusting to the unnatural stillness. It was like standing in the absence of existence itself.
There was no scent. No warmth. No cold.
No echo when she inhaled.
Her pulse should have sounded in her ears. It didn’t.
The Tower had taken everything.
A slow, creeping sensation coiled at the base of her skull—displacement.
Not fear. Not yet.
But something deeply unnatural was at play here.
Her gaze swept across the space again, but it remained the same. Empty. Unforgiving.
For how long?
Her fingers twitched at her sides. Time felt... unstable. There was no way to track it, no shadows to shift, no changes in light.
Had it been seconds? Minutes?
It felt like longer.
Then—a chime.
The sound didn’t echo. It simply existed, vibrating through the space without direction.
The blue window flickered into existence.
[Next Phase Initiating.]
[First Trial Parameters Adjusted.]
Her breath stilled.
Adjusted.
She had expected trials, expected the unknown. But this—this was different.
The Tower was watching her.
Not just running a test.
It was reacting to her.
Her gaze returned to the panel, waiting.
Nothing changed. No new message. No further instructions.
Just those words.
[First Trial Parameters Adjusted.]
She exhaled slowly.
Then—the world lurched.
Not a sound. Not a tremor.
But a sudden, wrenching shift deep in her core.
It was like being yanked sideways without moving, her stomach twisting in protest. The air itself folded inward, collapsing around her, like something unseen had just plucked her from existence.
For half a breath, everything stretched—
Then—
She was elsewhere.
No warning. No fall. Just instantaneous displacement.
One moment, she was in the white void.
The next, she was standing on solid ground.
Her body staggered forward from the force of the transition, her legs struggling to catch up with the reality shift. She pressed a hand to her ribs, steadying herself.
The air here was thick—real.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
She inhaled, sharp and slow.
The scent of soil. Stone. Something stale, untouched by time.
Her surroundings had changed.
The blinding white was gone, replaced by something narrow, enclosed.
A corridor.
The walls were rough-hewn stone, damp with condensation. Wooden torches lined the passage, their flames weak, flickering against the cold.
The silence was different here.
Not empty.
She swallowed, adjusting to the sudden shift in gravity.
And she wasn’t alone.
The system window reappeared.
[First Trial: Commencing.]
A sound.
A growl rumbled through the corridor, rolling over the stone walls like distant thunder.
Her breath hitched.
The torches flickered, their light struggling against the shadows pressing in from all sides.
Then—shff.
A faint scrape of claws against the ground.
She turned toward the sound, every muscle coiled tight.
At first, she saw nothing.
Only the shifting blackness beyond the torches, the flickering firelight casting erratic shapes along the rough stone.
Then—movement.
A shape slinked forward, its outline stretching, shifting as it stepped into the dim glow.
A wolf.
But not like the ones she had seen before.
Its fur was ragged, clumped with dirt and dried blood. Patches were missing, revealing stretched, sickly skin.
It was too thin. Bones jutted out beneath its pelt, ribs sharp as blades.
It looked starving.
But its eyes remained cold. Unblinking.
It was studying her.
Skkk…
Its claws dragged against the stone as it inched forward.
Deliberate. Controlled.
This wasn’t an immediate attack.
Her pulse thundered against her chest.
The Tower had given her no weapon. No instructions.
Nothing.
She inhaled slowly.
The wolf’s ears flicked.
It had noticed.
She took a step back—careful, measured.
Crunch.
Her boot pressed against loose dirt, the faint sound snapping through the silence.
The wolf reacted.
Its lips curled, revealing yellowed, uneven fangs. Its growl deepened, rumbling through its chest.
The message was clear.
It wasn’t letting her leave.
Her gaze flicked toward the torches lining the walls. Her only option.
Another step.
The wolf tensed. Ready.
She moved.
Fwsh!
Her hand snapped toward the nearest torch, fingers wrapping around the rough wood. The flame flared, spitting embers into the air.
The wolf’s pupils contracted.
Its ears flattened.
But it didn’t step back.
She lifted the torch higher, letting the fire dance between them.
The wolf held its ground.
A slow breath stretched long.
Then—a step forward.
Crack. The flame wavered as the beast entered the torch’s glow, its whiskers nearly brushing the heat.
It wasn’t afraid.
Starvation had burned away instinct.
The air felt heavier.
Then—
The wolf lunged.
The wolf’s body blurred as it sprang forward, its muscles coiling like a steel trap.
She barely had time to react.
‘Move!’
Her body obeyed before thought could catch up—the torch swinging up in a desperate arc.
Fwssh!
The flames lashed through the air, illuminating a glimpse of bared fangs and sunken eyes.
The beast twisted mid-lunge, avoiding the direct hit.
Sssk—!
However, the torch’s heat grazed its muzzle.
The wolf snarled, its momentum breaking as it recoiled, landing in a low crouch. Clawed paws scraped against stone, claws digging in for traction.
She exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling.
It had backed off, but only for a moment.
Not fear.
It was calculating.
She adjusted her grip on the torch, sweat slicking her palm. The flame wavered but held strong, a fragile line of defense between her and the starving predator.
The beast’s eyes flicked to the fire, assessing.
Then—it moved again.
Fast. Low. Not lunging, but circling around her.
Her pulse hammered against her ribs, but she forced herself to stay steady.
Don’t retreat.
If she backed herself into a corner, it was over.
The wolf crept forward, inch by inch, its skeletal frame gliding just beyond the reach of the fire.
It was waiting.
For her to falter.
For her to make a mistake.
She shifted her stance, inching toward the torches lining the walls. If she could grab another one—
Crunch.
Her foot brushed against something loose.
A stone.
She didn’t hesitate.
With a sharp inhale, she lifted her boot and kicked it forward.
Thmp!
The rock skittered across the ground, rolling directly into the wolf’s path.
The reaction was instant.
The beast flinched, its head snapping toward the sudden movement.
An opening.
She took it.
Fwssh!
The torch whipped through the air, the flames flaring as she thrust it forward, aiming straight for the wolf’s face.
The beast jerked back, snarling.
But it didn’t run.
It continued watching her. Still waiting.
Her breath came fast and uneven.
She had seconds before it tried again.
Seconds.
That was all she had.
The wolf’s muscles coiled, its hunger outweighing hesitation.
Her heartbeat slammed against her chest, but she forced herself to focus.
The beast wouldn’t back down.
It wasn’t just desperate. It was learning.
The torch’s flames flickered between them, a fragile, wavering barrier.
The wolf’s eyes flicked to the fire. Then to her.
It lunged.
SNAP!
She barely twisted in time.
The beast’s fangs clamped down on empty air, inches from her arm.
Fwssh!
She swung the torch in a tight arc, flames licking at fur and skin.
The wolf let out a sharp yelp, skidding back—but not far.
Not enough.
It was circling again, its breath ragged, teeth bared.
The scent of burnt fur clung to the damp air.
Her grip tightened.
It was trying a different angle.
Another lunge, lower this time—going for her legs.
She jumped back, barely avoiding its claws.
Her boots scraped against the dirt, her balance wavering for half a second.
Half a second too long.
Thud!
The wolf slammed into her side.
Her breath ripped from her lungs as she hit the ground—hard.
The torch flew from her grasp.
It clattered against the stone, rolling just out of reach. The flame flickered weakly, but didn’t die.
The wolf was on her before she could move.
And then—
Fangs sank into her forearm.
Pain erupted through her body, white-hot and sharp.
A scream caught in her throat.
—Ahh!
Adrenaline surged.
Her free hand shot toward the ground, fingers closing around the first thing she could grab.
A fistful of dirt and loose gravel.
She didn’t think.
She slammed on the wolf’s face.
The dust and grit exploded into the wolf’s eyes, nose, open mouth.
The beast recoiled with a pained snarl, its grip loosening—just barely.
But it was enough.
She wrenched her arm free, rolling onto her side. Blood pulsed from the wound, warm against her skin.
No time to check it.
No time to think.
The torch.
She lunged.
Her fingers closed around the wooden shaft—and she turned.
Fwssh!
She drove the flame into the wolf’s face.
Sizzle!
The wolf shrieked. A sound between a howl and a scream, raw and unnatural.
The wolf thrashed violently, its body twisting away from the searing heat.
Smoke curled from its scorched muzzle, and the stench of burning fur filling the corridor.
But it wasn’t dead.
Not yet.
Its limbs trembled as it staggered back, yellow eyes wide with wild, agonized fury.
She didn’t wait.
Didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t breathe.
With a desperate cry, she thrust the torch further forward, the flames flaring as they found their mark.
Fwssh!
The fire buried itself into the wolf’s open maw.
Szzzzhhhk—!
The beast convulsed, a soundless scream caught in its throat. Its body seized, legs buckling as the heat devoured the inside of its mouth, throat, lungs.
Then—a violent jolt.
It collapsed.
Its chest rose once.
Then stilled.
The smoke flickered against its unmoving form, the wolf’s blackened flesh still smoldering.
Silence.
No growls. No snapping jaws.
Nothing but her own ragged, uneven breaths.
She stayed still.
Her grip on the torch tightened, the lingering heat pressing into her palm.
The wolf wasn’t moving.
But she knew better than to assume it was over.
Slowly, carefully, she stepped back, watching for any sign—any twitch of movement.
None came.
She exhaled, the weight of the battle crashing over her all at once.
The firelight flickered, dancing across the blood smeared along her arm.
Pain crept in, slow but sharp, the bite wound was still fresh and open.
She clenched her jaw. She had survived.
For now.
Then—
The system window flickered back into existence.
[Congratulations, Entrant Y121-890310.]
[First Trial (Tutorial) Completed.]
Her shoulders sagged.
It was over.
The torch, still burning, lowered in her grasp.
Her vision blurred, exhaustion finally catching up to her.
Then—another message.
[Privilege Granted: While inside your room, death is not tolerated. Existing wounds will not deteriorate.]
Her gaze flicked down to her torn sleeve, to the red soaking through the fabric.
The pain remained.
She exhaled, leaning against the stone wall.
While her body ached and her breath still shaky, the Tower had acknowledged her.
She had won.