The beach was barren, with only a few scraggly branches washed ashore by the tide. None of them looked particularly useful. They were either too damp or too brittle, breaking apart in his hands when he tried to gather them.

Alonso made his way to the edge of the jungle, hoping to find better material. But the thick foliage was just as unyielding. Every branch he snapped off was too green or too wet to burn effectively.

“Of course, it can’t be easy,” he grumbled, frustration building as he surveyed his limited options.

As he limped back to the shore, his mind raced, searching for alternatives. He needed heat, and without proper firewood, his options were limited. That’s when a memory surfaced—a fleeting, but curious recollection of an old documentary he’d seen years ago. Ancient cultures used to heat stones to cook their food when firewood was scarce.

He shook his head, a wry smile forming as he considered the strange turn of events. Who knows what you’d end up using out here, huh? If it weren’t for his enhanced memory recollection, he would have completely forgotten about it.

He began gathering the larger stones, arranging them in a makeshift pit. The effort was taxing, especially with his ankle still throbbing, but he pushed through the discomfort. Once he had a decent arrangement, he set the driest branches and leaves he could find on top, using his sword to strike sparks against a stone. It took several tries, but eventually, he managed to coax a small flame to life.

Alonso watched the fire grow with a smile of achievement, the heat slowly spreading to the stones. The orange glow of the flames reflected off the rocks, casting eerie shadows on the beach.

As he placed the pieces of panther meat on the heated stones, he felt a small but genuine sense of satisfaction. The faint sizzle of cooking meat was a welcome sound in the stillness of the night.

He stayed close, occasionally turning the pieces with the tip of his sword.

“I feel like the BBQ dad right now,” he chuckled. “Where’s Jack when you need him?”

As he stared at the sizzling meat, Alonso felt a wave of relief. The panther meat wasn’t some special, hard-to-cook type. It seemed to be cooking just fine on the heated stones. If it had needed intense fire or some other method, he’d have been out of options. His resources were limited out here, and he was grateful that this small victory had come easily.

His thoughts drifted to the occasional boys' trips he used to take with his friends back in Melbourne. He missed those days—hanging out, laughing around a fire, the easy camaraderie they shared. A pang of longing hit him. Were they missing him? What were they thinking, knowing he was gone?

He stared up at the night sky, a nostalgic smile forming on his face. Not much time had passed since he was teleported here, but it felt like a lifetime. He had changed so much—not just physically, but in ways he couldn’t fully understand yet. The person he was now felt distant from the one who had left Melbourne.

“That’s good and all, but the meat is getting overcooked.”

Alonso quickly noticed the meat starting to char and wryly smiled. He grabbed a piece, blowing on it to cool it down before taking a cautious bite.

The taste was surprisingly good, a mix of gamey and savory flavors with just a hint of the smoky heat from the stones. He chewed slowly, savoring the first real meal he’d had in what felt like ages.

“Not bad,” he thought, his mouth full. “Better than coconuts, that’s for sure.”

He then thought of something and chuckled. “Poor Abhijit. Well, maybe he can find some leaves or fruits later on. Or maybe this place just isn’t made for vegetarians.”

As he continued eating, Alonso couldn’t help but wonder how Abhijit was faring. The guy seemed resourceful enough, but in a place like this, who knew what kind of challenges lay ahead? He took another bite, the thought lingering in his mind.

"Guess we'll find out soon enough," he muttered, staring into the flames as they danced in the night, the orange light reflecting in his eyes.

Alonso finished his meal, the last bite disappearing with a satisfying chew. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze fixed on the dwindling fire. The warmth was comforting.

He stood up, stretching his muscles, feeling the pull in his still-aching ankle. He walked to the edge of the shore, the cool night breeze brushing against his skin, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant roar of the ocean. The rhythmic sound of the waves was almost hypnotic, lulling his thoughts into a quiet rhythm.

Alonso sat down on the sand, the cool grains shifting under his weight. He stared out at the vast expanse of the sea, the horizon barely visible under the pale moonlight. The sky above was dotted with stars, their light faint but constant. It reminded him of the nights he’d spent camping with friends, staring up at the same sky, but it felt different now. Everything felt different.

After a few moments of silence, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, centering himself. It was time to train.

“I guess we never found out the orb progress limit from the worms,” he mused.

“You’re talking as if you’re not going to see them again soon.”

“Well, true. So, what’s the agenda for tonight?”

“Too much for one night.”

He sighed deeply. “Let’s start with the easy part. We’ll work on control first, and then we can start tackling the enhanced motion sensor.”

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

> August 2, 2024 - Location Classified

"Name and date of birth," the scientist asked, his voice flat and impersonal.

"Oliver Jensen. June 14, 1995."

He noted the response, uninterested in the man behind the mask.

"When you were teleported inside The Tower, where were you brought to?" he continued, pen poised.

The subject’s voice came through the mask, slightly muffled but clear enough. "I was in a completely stark white room. No features, just smooth white surfaces all around me."

Nothing new here, the scientist thought, his pen moving swiftly across the paper. The details of the early stages were well-documented by previous subjects.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The questioning proceeded, moving methodically through each floor. The subject provided the necessary details, describing the environments, challenges, and survival methods. Occasionally, the scientist interrupted, probing for clarity or additional data where needed.

Each answer was cataloged, cross-referenced with existing data. The responses were thorough but unremarkable—until they reached the account of the dark room.

"I was made to face another challenger," the subject said. "I didn’t want to do it, but it was his life or mine. I eventually won, but not without paying the price—a deep cut to my left arm. Fortunately, it healed after I passed out following the fight. I reckon it had something to do with the red orb I faintly remember being dropped after the other climber disappeared. I do hope he's safe right now."

The scientist's pen paused mid-sentence. Red orb regeneration—this is the seventh documented case in the Dark Room.

"Please proceed with the next floor," he instructed.

The subject complied, detailing the journey through the challenges. He described controlling EM waves, levitating objects, and manipulating virtual projections of his past self. The scientist listened, making notes as necessary. The techniques were familiar, consistent with prior reports.

“Continue with the next trial,” he instructed, his voice devoid of emotion.

"After I climbed the stairs, having guessed the stage progress and written it down in the EM space, I found myself on something resembling a tropical island. There was sand, salty water, and very small coconut trees. The first thing I did was quench my hunger and thirst, and then—"

The subject's narrative continued, and the scientist followed with professional detachment. Standard environmental manipulation—expected behavior. When the subject mentioned meeting another climber, his interest barely registered. He interrupted to extract a word-for-word account, ensuring accuracy in the records.

The subject sighed but provided the necessary details. He described meeting someone named Alex, forming a group of four, and their subsequent journey into the jungle. They encountered the expected threats—the so-called bullet worms.

The scientist's pen moved quickly across the tablet as the subject recounted the skirmishes, injuries, and strategic retreats. Predictable responses under duress. But then the subject mentioned a quadrupedal monster.

“That’s when it appeared—the panther-like monster,” the subject recalled, his voice betraying a hint of fear. “I was the unlucky one who got attacked first. I remember detecting a lot of sharp, metallic objects all packed together, heading straight for me. I was scared but tried to stay focused. I heard the sound and recognized it as some kind of four-legged creature, but it was too late to adjust my stance. I managed to block its fangs with my sword, but the force knocked me to the ground. It stomped on my stomach, making me cough up blood.

I rolled to the side and stabbed it in the head, but the sword didn’t penetrate as I expected. It was tough. Really tough. The creature then bit down on my hand, severing it completely. I screamed, and the next thing I remember is the others somehow managing to take it down. And then I saw it—the look on Alex’s face as he saw me lying there, armless and bleeding out. That expression... I’ll never forget it, even through the pain. And then... then he killed me. The next thing I knew, I was back at the space center.”

The scientist paused, his interest finally piqued. So, a new type of creature—this will require further analysis. He pressed on, his tone unchanged. “Describe the sharp metal objects you detected. How did it feel? Also, give a more detailed description of the creature—everything you remember, in as much detail as possible.”

The subject remained silent for a moment, likely recalling the details. The scientist waited patiently.

Finally, the subject spoke, though his voice carried a hint of uncertainty. “Its face... it seemed featureless, except for the metallic fangs. Its hide was incredibly tough, and it had pitch-black fur. If I remember correctly—but I’m not sure—the creature didn’t disappear after it was killed. But I could be mistaken.”

The scientist’s pen moved swiftly, capturing every word. A creature that doesn’t disappear? That’s new. Could it be related to the color? White disappears, black doesn’t? Interesting. He made a note to cross-reference this with previous reports. If true, this could indicate a significant deviation in The Tower’s behavior. He glanced up at Oliver, who still wore the mask, his expression hidden—not that he cared about it anyway.

“Anything else?” he asked.

The subject shook his head. “No, that’s all.”

The scientist felt a flicker of disappointment. This subject died too quickly. Well, others will come anyway. He glanced at his assistant. “You can take care of the rest,” he said, then turned and left the room without another word.

The assistant, now in charge, stepped forward and took a seat across from the subject. “Let’s review what’s happened since you were teleported,” he began, his tone professional but direct. “A physical spire, which we refer to as The Tower, appeared in the middle of the Pacific Ocean at the exact time you were—”

He continued, methodically recounting the events that had unfolded in the real world since their disappearance. His summary was concise, focusing on key developments—global shock at the appearance of The Tower, the rapid militarization and scientific efforts surrounding it, and the enigmatic live feed of unknown origin that allowed the public to observe the climbers' trials in real-time.

When the live feed was mentioned, the subject’s posture stiffened. The assistant noticed but didn’t dwell on it and moved on to the most recent development: the new signal.

“The new signal we detected,” he continued, “originated from the same source as the previous one. It states: First tier ascended. Second Ascent in 77 days.” He paused briefly, allowing the weight of the message to settle. “What are your thoughts on this new message?”

The subject remained silent for a moment before answering.

“The phrase ‘First tier ascended’ likely refers to the completion of the initial set of challenges we faced inside The Tower. It suggests that we’ve successfully passed whatever criteria were set for the first stage, with that first stage probably being the series of white rooms. The fact that the tier is referred to as the first clearly indicates there is a second and possibly a third or more.

If I had to add more, I’d say that the first tier involved ascending seven times, with it being seven rooms in total. Noting that the number 7 is being frequently used, even for the countdown before each ascent, I would summarize that it’s possible each tier may be structured in seven trials, or trial stages.”

The assistant nodded, jotting down notes. Logical deduction, he thought. The subject’s analysis aligned with their preliminary conclusions.

The subject continued. “The phrase ‘Second Ascent in 77 days’ likely refers to a new set of climbers that will be teleported inside. The amount of time given is exactly the same as when we received the first signal, so a similar outcome should be expected.”

The assistant remained silent, allowing Oliver to process his thoughts out loud. Nothing new there either.

“Give me a rough estimate of the following factors for the second ascent: the number of climbers to be teleported, the floor or tier to which they will be teleported, the trials they will face, changes to the live feed, and any other parameters you believe could be different from the first ascent,” the assistant instructed.

The subject seemed slightly shocked by the question, but after giving it some thought, he answered.

“There is no reason for the number of climbers to be different, and I reckon they will all start from the first white room, with the challenges remaining the same. Based on all the new information you’ve given me and the fact that I am still alive, it seems The Tower is giving us a fighting chance to prepare thoroughly for each new tier. When the second ascent happens, the passing rate of climbers reaching the island will be much higher, but then the true challenge will be tier 2. And I believe this process will be repeated again for a third tier.

Regarding the live feeds, I reckon, based on what you mentioned, that they will become available again after the 77 days for all climbers, whether on tier 1 or 2, while they will be unavailable for those who pass to tier 3. This would mean humanity’s goal is to ensure it can complete at least one tier each ascent until it successfully completes The Tower and the challenge imposed by this alien civilization.”

The assistant imperceptibly smiled. It was not common to encounter a subject with such a perspective. In any case, it somewhat aligned with their computed most likely scenario. Very well done, Mr. Oliver.

“And, final question. What do you believe is the objective of The Tower?” the assistant asked, his tone neutral.

After some silence, a voice was heard through the mask. “Evolution.”