As I regained my bearings after the disorienting entrance into the Tower, I found myself standing in the remnants of what could only be described as a run down dungeon.

Behind me, where I had expected to find the door through which I entered, was now just the cold, unyielding surface of a cell wall, effectively sealing any thought of retreat.

Around me, the dungeon stretched out, a network of similar cells extending from my location, each one as desolate and forgotten as the last.

The starkness of the setting was amplified by the worn-out rugs scattered across the stone floor.

These faded remnants offered a silent telling of the passage of time and neglect.

Bloodstains, now darkened with age, adorned both the floors and walls, suggesting scenes of violence that once played out within these confines.

What struck me most, however, were the skeletal remains that lay in disarray within the cells. Each skeleton was most likely the dungeon's former occupants—prisoners perhaps? Who had met their end in solitude and desperation.

The bones, some scattered, some still eerily assembled in a semblance of their former selves, spoke volumes of the Tower's theme.

These were not mere decorations; they were forewarnings, etched in bone.

The dungeon air was musty with the smell of mold and rot. Cobwebs adorned every corner, with spiders finding sanctuary in the dungeon's neglect.

The only sounds were my own footsteps and the occasional, eerie creak from the bowels of the structure, as if the Tower itself was alive and aware of my presence.

Standing in that cell, I was acutely aware of the solemnity of my surroundings.

The sight of the skeletal remains was a sobering welcome to the Tower's realities, a clear message that failure here was final.

Approaching the cell door, I noticed it was slightly open, hanging halfway unlocked as if left that way purposefully.

Creak~

Grasping the cold metal, I pushed it fully open, its hinges protesting with a loud, grating creak that echoed ominously through the silent room.

Leaving the half-open gate of my cell behind, I found myself in a narrow hallway flanked by rows of similar cells on both the left and right.

The only source of light flickered from sconces mounted sporadically along the walls.

As I walked, each cell I passed was like a dark mirror reflecting the same scene of despair: skeletal remains lay scattered or slumped against walls.

Eventually, the hallway ended, giving way to a stairway that loomed at its end. The stairs, carved from the same cold stone as the dungeon itself, spiraled upward into darkness.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I was met with a wooden door, its surface rough and worn from age, out of place against the rest of the stone around me. It stood as a barrier between me and what lay ahead.

With a cautious hand, I pushed against it, the door giving way with heavy resistance. It opened slowly, creating just enough space for me to peer through to the other side.

Through the small opening I made, I took a careful look around. From what I could see, there wasn't anything moving; no signs of life at all, just a long hallway that kept going with more doors like the one I was opening. These doors were evenly spaced along the hallway, hinting at more cell-like rooms behind them, similar to the one I had just left.

The quiet was unsettling. Not a whisper of movement, not a shadow of a living being disturbed the stillness of the hallway.

It was as if the Tower itself was holding its breath, watching as I prepared to step into the unknown.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The only companions to my cautious observation were the flickering lights from sconces that dotted the hallway, casting a dim illumination that did little to dispel the overarching gloom.

Stepping through the door, my focus was on what lay ahead in the seemingly endless hallway. However, my stride was momentarily halted, not by fear, but by surprise, as I nearly stumbled upon a skeleton lying just beside the door's entrance.

It was an unexpected sight, not because it was particularly horrifying—I had already encountered skeletons in the cells—but because I hadn't noticed it at first glance.

This skeleton differed from the others I had seen. Beside it lay a sword, its presence suggesting the skeleton once had a role far different from those of the unfortunate prisoners.

The blade, though dulled by time, hinted at battles fought or duties performed. More notably, atop its skull sat a silver cone-like helmet, snugly fitting even in death.

This detail alone significantly altered my perception of who this individual might have been. The helmet, with its practical design and pointed top, was a clear indicator of a guard's role—perhaps a prison guard or someone with a certain level of authority within this dungeon.

It was easy to imagine this figure in life, standing guard, ever watchful for threats or perhaps overseeing the dungeon's dismal occupants. The proximity of this guarded post to the entrance I had just come through spoke volumes of a dedication that lasted until the very end.

The initial surprise from encountering the skeletal guard faded quickly as I turned my focus to the path ahead.

The hallway branched off to the right and left, each direction stretching into the unknown, while the possibility of hidden events or secrets behind each door piqued my curiosity.

I wasn't about to leave any stone unturned, aware that any overlooked detail could mean missing out on valuable points or rewards.

As I weighed my options, considering which way to go first and the strategy of opening each door, an unexpected change in the environment caught my attention.

A shadow, distinct from my own, formed on the ground behind me. The sudden appearance of this new shadow amidst the dimly lit hallway was enough to raise an immediate alarm.

Reacting instinctively, I turned around. The sight that greeted me was as astonishing as it was inexplicable. The skeletal guard, which moments before had been lifeless on the ground near the door, was now ominously animated. Its sword, was raised high above its head, poised to strike down in my direction.

With the sword bearing down on me, there was no time for further shock or contemplation. The urgency of the situation demanded immediate action.

I lunged into a quick, evasive roll. The cold stone floor scraped against my skin as I executed a swift dodge, the donkey roll propelling me out of the sword's deadly trajectory.

I felt the rush of air and the faintest brush of cold metal as the sword swiped through the space I had occupied just a heartbeat earlier, narrowly escaping what could have been a fatal blow.

Landing in a crouch, I quickly scanned my surroundings to reassess my position and the skeletal guard's next move.

The animated skeleton, a silent sentinel no longer, turned its hollow gaze towards me, its movements eerily fluid for a being of bone.

It was clear now, the foes that roamed the first floor of the Tower were undead.

The skeletal guard's sudden animation from deathly stillness to aggressive assailant was a stark introduction to the kind of adversaries I would be facing here.

With a quick decision, I tossed my bag to the side, ensuring the spare pants and health potions I had just acquired wouldn't be consumed by the flames I was about to summon.

Engaging the Self-Immolation skill, the familiar searing pain enveloped me. Despite the agony, there was a growing sense of familiarity with the sensation, or perhaps the imminent danger sharpened my tolerance for it.

Yet, the skill's life-draining effect didn't afford me the luxury of hesitation. Time was against me, with only about ninety seconds before the skill's effects would overwhelm me.

As the flames cloaked my body, I charged towards the skeletal guard. Its movements, hindered by the lack of muscles and the heavy sword it wielded, were predictably sluggish.

This allowed me to easily sidestep its clumsy swing, closing the distance between us with rapid strides.

Seizing the moment, I launched a swift punch, my flaming fist connecting with the skeleton's ribcage.

The impact sent a shower of sparks into the air, the heat from my flames blackening the bone.

It was a strange sensation, fighting with fire as my fist, feeling the resistance of the skeleton's frame against the force of my attack.

The skeleton staggered back from the force, its structure compromised but not yet defeated. But, I knew then, that brute force was more then enough to deal with it.

The skeleton, reeling from the initial impact, seemed less of a formidable adversary than I had first anticipated.

Its once intimidating stance now revealed its inherent fragility, a vulnerability I was ready to exploit.

My fists, sheathed in fire, stroke the skeleton with a series of rapid blows that it could neither evade nor counter.

The heat from my flaming aura intensified with each hit, charring bone and sending cracks spiderwebbing through the skeleton's frame. It attempted to retaliate, swinging its sword in desperate, faltering arcs, but its efforts were futile.

The disparity in our strength was clear, and with every hit I landed, that gap only widened.

The final blow came swiftly—a punch that connected with the skeleton's skull, causing it to shatter into a shower of embers and bone fragments. The rest of its body, now unsupported, collapsed into a heap on the cold stone floor.

You have defeated 'Skeleton Guard'! You have gained 1P (point)