> July 30, 2024 - Johnson Space Center, Houston, Texas

Suddenly, Stephen heard the sound of a notification on his phone. He picked it up, and after seeing it was from his uncle, his heart skipped a beat. He clicked on the notification. The message was short; it was just a link: The Tower.

Stephen sat down, feeling a chill run down his spine as he remembered the words he had heard through the phone: "we can see inside" and "a link." Those words had stuck with him, nagging at the back of his mind. He paused, staring at the link, his finger trembling slightly as he hesitated.

After a moment, he pressed it. The screen went black for a second before displaying two options:

image [https://i.imgur.com/80EbZI4.png]

If the link hadn't come from his uncle, he would have dismissed it as a prank or a hack and turned it off by now. But knowing it was authentic made it all the more disturbing. Why was it designed this way? Climber? Why the cryptic choice between selecting a climber's name or just watching a random one? But most importantly, was this even created by … humans?

He stared at the screen intently, then pressed one of the options.

image [https://i.imgur.com/4wBmCPb.png]

He paused for a brief moment, then started typing quickly.

image [https://i.imgur.com/WPY4xNm.png]

His hand was trembling slightly. He glanced to the side to check if his door was closed and then lowered the blinds of the window. After that, he looked again, holding his phone with slightly sweaty hands.

He pressed 'Enter.' The screen went black again.

And then it showed a white room. In the middle of the room was a cage. Outside the cage, he noticed someone. He leaned closer and his heart skipped a beat: it was Chiara.

He nearly dropped the phone but composed himself as best as he could. He looked at her, but it was hard to see her expression from this angle. He tried zooming in or rotating it with his fingers in case it offered a 3D view but noticed it was fixed. He stared again at the cage, noticing Chiara was not moving and her gaze was fixed on it.

It was hard to discern, but he somehow managed to see there was something inside. It was white and...

"What the hell..."

He put his phone down and turned on his PC. Quickly disconnecting it from the current screen, he brought out the 43-inch monitor he rarely used because it felt way too big for him. But now...

He went back to his phone and tried to return to the message section, but it did not work. He attempted to close the app but noticed there was no 'x' button. He slid his finger left from the side, but nothing happened. The normal commands of the phone were not working. Left with no choice, he held the ‘shut-down’ button for several seconds. Finally, it worked.

He breathed a sigh of relief, waited a couple of seconds, and turned the phone on again. He was still anxious that the same screen would appear, making his phone useless, but it did not. It started normally. He entered his passcode and navigated back to the message section. He copied the link and sent it to his email.

He went back to the PC. After opening his email, his finger lingered on top of the left-button of the mouse. His breathing paused. He pressed it.

The screen went black. It was the same prompts again. He typed Chiara’s name and then clicked ‘Enter.’

He was momentarily shocked when he saw Chiara moving closer to the cage. Her steps were unsteady, almost as if she was... tired? And then he noticed what was in her hand. It looked like... no, it was a knife.

He frowned and then his gaze went back to the cage itself. This time, the view was clear, and he was prepared. Inside was a living creature, a humanoid figure as ugly and terrifying as it could be.

“What are you…” He whispered as his gaze was completely fixed on the big screen.

Chiara moved closer, and he noticed the creature's eyeless face following her. She got so close, Stephen’s heart tensed, but then he realized her gaze was no longer fixed on the creature. He tried to observe what she was looking at. Was there something else in the cage?

He could not see it from his angle. Was it another creature or something else?

Chiara continued looking at the creature for a while, then shifted her focus back to what he could not see. After that, she looked around the room as if searching for something. Then her gaze stopped somewhere.

Stephen followed her line of sight and saw it too. It was small and hard to notice even on his 43-inch screen. But there, on the plain white wall, was a red button.

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image [https://i.imgur.com/EPU265m.png]

He did not hesitate. He could not. He gripped his sword tightly, and his muscles coiled. He thought of the creature as just a dummy. It was not there. It was just the shadow he used to practice. This was just practice.

He lunged forward, the movement he had practiced hundreds of times but now faster than ever. He gave it all he had.

He raised his sword and then slashed downward with all his might. It described a diagonal arc, and then it connected. It connected, but he barely felt it. Or maybe he was too focused, too entranced.

His sword stopped centimeters from the floor. His breathing was haggard, and he was sweating. He felt something drop behind him. He knew what it was, but it was hard for him to process it.

'That was it?' He stood up and looked back. The two halves of the creature were lying on the ground and starting to dissipate.

He gazed at it and the orb that appeared afterward. Those memories came flooding back: the killing, the irrationality, the addiction to power.

He looked around the room and noticed that no staircase had appeared. He looked at the orb again. He understood he needed power to survive in this place, in these tests. But… what if he went mad again? The fact that he managed to come back then was nothing short of a miracle.

If he did not take the orb, odds are he would eventually reach a point where he could no longer handle the creatures thrown at him. If he did take the orb, then the risk was... losing himself.

He took a deep breath and crouched down. One was a risk; the other a sure end. It was always a test.

He touched the orb, and it was absorbed into his skin.

> S#### # - 0.##3#

‘Huh?’ he muttered, putting his hand on his head and stumbling back, barely managing to keep his balance.

‘What was that?’ He could have sworn he saw something barely appearing in his vision. It was like a grainy screen, and there was something written … he could not remember.

And then … he stared at his sword again and moved it around. It felt different. There was something more to that orb. Was it different because the creature was different?

He shook his head and focused again. He put himself in a stance and swung his sword forward.

‘What…’

There was something different. He was sure now. This movement, it was different. Compared to before, it was like… like he had spent a long time training with the sword.

Was it his muscles that were being tampered with to account for muscle memory? No… wait… it is not the muscle that allows that, it is… the brain.

“NO!” he screamed as he fell back, the sword clattering to the floor with a metallic clink. He pressed his hands to his head.

“NO, NO, NO!”

He felt afraid. Not his mind. Anything but that.

Had he regained his sense of self from that... only to lose it now to this?

He was Alonso. He was Alonso. He was Alonso.

“Yes… I am me. That is just the pathways that were opened, just the muscle memory… just that.”

He was sweating and agitated. Too many emotions in such a short time. Yet, even then, his mind was focused… too focused for his mental state.

He gulped and slowly steadied his breathing. After a long while, he glanced at his sword and picked it up. He used it for support and stood straight.

He looked ahead. He had already seen it. Another creature stood in the circle.

It was also holding a sword, the same or maybe just very similar to the last. He looked around and noticed nothing else had changed in the room. Nothing but the color of the circle on the floor. It was hard to notice, but the red it had before had slightly changed… it was nearing orange now.

He toyed with the sword in his hand and calmly walked to the circle, to the stage. As his feet landed on it, he did not rush to act like last time. He waited.

The creature then moved and approached him. It held the sword with both hands and did not rush. Its step was measured, and it seemed to be covering its openings.

As it got closer, it suddenly rushed at him. It was a horizontal slash from the left. He parried it and pushed back as the swords connected. He then stepped forward and continued the attack by kicking the creature in the chest, making it roll on the floor.

He stared at it. He could finish it now. But he waited.

The creature stood up and rushed at him again, but he blocked as he sidestepped and then used the blunt part of the sword to push it in the same direction it had come, using its momentum to make it lose balance forward.

He could have finished it then.

The creature scrambled to its feet, clearly more cautious now. It circled him, its eyeless face fixed on his every move. He held his ground, his breathing steady, his grip firm on the sword. He could feel the difference in himself, the precision, the confidence.

The creature lunged again, this time with a feint to the right before slashing from the left. He anticipated the move, effortlessly blocking and countering with a swift upward slash that grazed the creature’s arm. It recoiled, and bright red blood started seeping from the wound.

It was easy.

He stepped forward and, with a series of quick, precise strikes, drove the creature back again. Each swing of his sword felt natural, instinctive, as if his body knew exactly what to do without conscious thought. He was in control, his mind sharp and focused.

The creature attempted a desperate attack, lunging wildly. He sidestepped, parried, and delivered a powerful strike to its midsection. The creature stumbled, losing its balance, and he seized the opportunity. With a swift, calculated motion, he thrust his sword into the creature's chest, then withdrew and delivered a final, decisive slash.

The force of his strike pushed the creature out of the circle. As soon as it crossed the boundary, it dissolved into mist, leaving behind a glowing orb.

‘So that’s another way to finish them … but then, what if it is I who steps out of the circle mid-fight?’

He approached the orb. Reaching out, he touched it, feeling its energy merge with his own.

> S#### # - 0.#51#

He saw it again. Now he was sure of it. But … what was it?

He felt something change, not giving him time to ponder. He looked at the floor.

The circle was now orange.