Her memories pulled her back to a time long before she entered the tower.

She had been a simple woman. A commoner in one of the many branch kingdoms under the continent's largest empire.

The branch kingdom, though not as wealthy as the capital, had its share of opportunities. Merchants filled the bustling markets, their wares plentiful under the midday sun. Children laughed as they chased one another through cobblestone streets.

Her own life, however, had been far from extraordinary.

Unlike many commoners, she’d been fortunate enough to learn how to read and write.

A rare gift for a commoner, and one she had used to carve out a modest life as a neighborhood teacher.

Every morning, she would gather the children in a small, one-room building and teach them letters, numbers, and even the occasional tale of far-off heroes.

One day, as she finished reading an old fable, a boy raised his hand, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Teacher! What about the tower? Where did it come from?” One of the children asked.

The room fell silent.

She followed his gaze to the window, where, far in the distance, a shadow loomed against the sky. A tower so tall its peak was lost to the heavens.

Even from here, from the outskirts, its presence was undeniable.

“My father says it's a gift from God,” the boy continued. “He says it’s where the strongest warriors are born.”

A few of the other children nodded eagerly. Their parents must have told them the same thing.

She exhaled softly. “No one truly knows where the tower came from.”

The children blinked with confusion.

“It just appeared one day,” she said, her voice quieter now.

“Centuries ago, long before any of us were born. People entered it… but they never came out.”

A shiver ran through the room.

“Then how did Emperor Aure the First survive?” one of the children asked.

A small smile tugged at her lips.

That was a name woven into every story across the continent.

“Because he was different,” she said.

The founder of the kingdom—Aure The First. The man who had once been a commoner like them.

Back then, he had been nothing. Just another soul who entered the tower.

But when he emerged, he was no longer a man. He was something greater.

He returned with powers that defied human limits—magic that rivaled the gods themselves.

With a single wave of his hand, he could move mountains.

With a whisper, he could summon storms.

No army could stand against him. No ruler could deny him.

And so, with those unfathomable gifts, he built an empire.

But deep down, she knew the truth that wasn’t to be revealed.

The tower did not give power freely. It demanded something in return.

“Now, kids! It’s nearing nightfall. Off to your parents!”

At first, she had been proud of her role. The steady income provided enough to keep a roof over her head and food on her plate.

But over time, monotony set in.

Her days blurred together, each one as predictable as the last.

Evenings were even worse. The quiet would stretch endlessly, and eventually, to fill the void, she’d taken up gambling.

At first, it was harmless. A few coins here and there on a lottery ticket. A casual dice game with fellow commoners at the tavern. A hand of cards when the nights felt unbearably long.

But soon, the thrill consumed her.

She started chasing bigger bets. The gladiator’s stadium became her second home—where blood and steel clashed, and fortunes changed hands in an instant.

The roars of the crowd, the tension before a fatal strike, the possibility of walking away richer than before—it was intoxicating.

She convinced herself she had a system. A way to win.

But luck was a fickle god.

Losses piled up faster than she could recover.

Her savings vanished. Then, her salary. Then, her possessions.

Desperation sank its claws into her and she resorted to loansharks.

Debts came knocking.

And in this kingdom, when you couldn’t pay… there was only one alternative.

She had one last chance.

Stolen story; please report.

A single gamble to change it all.

They say gamblers quit right before they’re about to make it big.

She should have quit.

Instead, she bet everything. Her house, her dignity—everything she had left.

And she lost.

Just like that, her life crumbled.

She stood in the empty space that was once her home, staring at the cold reality of her choices.

She had nothing. No place to return to.

When the debtors came to collect what she no longer had, there was only one thing left to take—her.

She had seen it happen before.

Others, who owed too much, disappeared overnight. The whispers that followed, murmurs of ships bound for distant continents where people became property, stripped of name and choice.

She refused to share their fate.

So she fled.

Under the cover of darkness, she abandoned everything.

Her shoes tore apart after days of running, the soles peeling, leaving her feet raw and blistered.

She could never stay in one place for long. The debt collectors had eyes everywhere, and the longer she remained in the branch kingdom, the closer they came.

No matter where she went, they would find her.

They always did.

She had only one alternative.

The tower.

To enter was to gamble your life.

The survival rate was abysmal.

For every thousand who entered, if they were lucky, one came back out.

But that one changed everything. That one returned as something greater, something powerful. And for the kingdom, that was all that mattered.

To them, the losses were acceptable.

And to her, it was no different from betting everything on a final, desperate throw of a thousand-faced dice.

Since she had no money and no provisions, she traveled by foot.

Hunger became her constant companion.

At first, she scavenged what little she could. Fallen fruit, discarded scraps left in the streets.

But soon, even that wasn’t enough.

Desperation drove her even lower.

She dug through the dirt, searching for roots.

She chewed on grass, choking down the bitter taste.

She caught insects with trembling hands, forcing herself to swallow them whole.

She was once a woman who had taught others to read, to write, and to teach them what they were capable of.

Now, she was crawling through the dirt, a little more than an animal.

Still, she pressed forward.

The cold nights gnawed at her just as harshly as starvation.

At some point, her reflection in puddles stopped looking human. Hollow cheeks, cracked lips, eyes sunken and dull.

By the time she reached the capital, she was little more than a husk of herself.

Her lips had split open from days without water, and the only thing that kept her moving was the sight of the tower over the horizon.

Closer.

She just had to get closer.

And then—salvation.

The food center.

It was massive, positioned outside the kingdom.

This establishment welcomed the weary and desperate.

The scent of broth and fresh bread filled the air, nearly driving her to madness.

She wasn’t the only one.

Dozens, no, hundreds of people filled the hall. Some, like her, were draped in rags, hollow-eyed and desperate.

But there others who were younger, stronger, and simply eager to test their fate.

A line stretched across the hall, each person waiting their turn.

Food.

It was so simple. A bowl of soup, thick with vegetables. A slice of bread, still warm. A cup of clean water.

It was the first real meal she had in weeks.

But there was a catch.

No one ate for free.

This food—this kindness—was not given out of charity.

It was an investment.

The kingdom did not care for the poor or the lost. It cared only for the tower.

Here, in this hall, men and women were not just fed. They were trained.

For those who wished to enter the tower, the kingdom prepared them.

It was Emperor Aure’s decree.

More people meant more chances.

More sacrifices meant a higher likelihood of producing a champion.

If a thousand entered, and even one came out—then it was worth it.

And those who died?

They were nothing but numbers.

She devoured the warm bread dipped into the soup, the rich taste of the broth coated her tongue.

As soon as the day ended and the last bowls were emptied, a group of guards entered the hall.

Their uniforms bore the crest of the royal army.

"Stand up," one of the guards ordered.

No one dared to disobey.

She followed the others as they were led out of the food center and into the kingdom, moving in a sluggish line through the cold streets.

Eventually, they stopped before a massive stone building. Unlike the food center, which had a welcoming, almost inviting air, this place was suffocating.

The doors creaked open.

Inside, rows of wooden tables stretched across the room, each with stacks of parchment laid neatly upon them.

She didn’t need to ask what they were.

A contract.

The moment they sat down, an official stepped forward, reciting the terms.

“By accepting nourishment from the crown, you acknowledge your obligation to enter the tower.”

Her stomach twisted.

“You will undergo basic training, including but not limited to survival techniques, combat training, and general knowledge required for the trials ahead.”

The weight of reality settled on her shoulders.

“Upon completion of your training, you will be granted entrance to the tower.”

There was no option to refuse.

Not anymore.

The official continued, his tone growing sharper.

“Any attempt to delay your entrance or intentionally sabotage your training will be seen as an act of defiance against the crown.”

“In such cases, you will be forcibly conscripted into the northern war effort against the barbarian clans.”

A shiver ran down her spine.

Everyone knew what that meant.

The war in the north had been raging for decades. The kingdom’s soldiers held the advantage in weapons, tactics, magic, and champions, but the barbarians themselves had their own too.

Conscription wasn’t a mere punishment.

It was a death sentence.

What would happen to a normal person when fighting against those beasts? It needn’t be asked.

A different kind of slaughter than the tower—but a slaughter nonetheless.

Her fingers trembled as she picked up the quill.

This was it.

There was no turning back.

With a slow, heavy breath, she signed her name.