Cross’s heart pounded in his chest, a heavy drumbeat echoing through his body as he began pacing back and forth, running both hands through his hair in utter frustration. His breath came fast, shallow—he could barely think straight. “No error? No error? This has to be a bug!” His voice cracked, rising in pitch as the situation fully sank in. He wasn’t prepared for this—nowhere near ready.

The words felt like they were closing in on him, suffocating him. Fifty floors. Wendigo. “I’m supposed to be fighting monsters at my level, not some beast designed to flatten a high-ranked veteran!”

The reality of what he faced pressed down like a weight on his chest, threatening to crush him. His legs wobbled as he thought about it. His mind buzzed with everything he knew about Towers and Fiends. Fifty floors...

His breath hitched. The Wendigo. Cross had read about it somewhere in the Tower archives. Fiends on that level weren’t just dangerous—they were legendary. Tower monsters of that caliber weren’t something a pseudo-first stage cultivator could even dream of facing. They were the kind of beasts that seasoned veterans, powerful elites, went after.

How am I supposed to fight that?

His legs buckled slightly as images flickered through his mind—glowing eyes, claws as long as his forearm, venom dripping from fangs that could tear through armor like paper. It would eat him alive. It would obliterate him in seconds, probably before he even had the chance to scream.

“Nova!” Cross barked, his voice frantic as he fought to keep his spiraling thoughts under control. “There’s no way I can beat this thing! I’m still stuck in the pseudo-first stage! My stats are nowhere near what’s needed to even scratch that thing. Check the system again, please?”

Nova’s voice remained cold and detached, as if it were completely oblivious to the panic tearing through him. “No error was found. This is your mission. Good luck.”

Cross threw his hands into the air, his heart hammering so loud he could hear the blood rushing through his ears. “Luck?! Are you kidding me? Luck isn’t going to save me from becoming a Wendigo snack! What am I supposed to do, punch it? I don’t even know what a full first stage feels like, and I’m supposed to fight something from the fiftieth floor? This is all kinds of wrong.”

His pulse quickened again, sweat dripping down his brow as his thoughts spiraled out of control. The images of the Wendigo grew clearer in his mind—hulking, powerful, and deadly. He could practically see the claws sinking into him, the venomous fangs tearing through his flesh, those glowing eyes staring into his soul as it devoured him whole.

“I can’t fight that,” he muttered to himself, his pacing more frantic now. “There’s no way...”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Cross’s mind raced with possible ways out, desperate for an escape. Should I report this to Emily? Maybe it’s a glitch in the system. He could just say there had been a mistake. Surely no one would blame him for walking away from a mission this suicidal. Right? He could just quit, say the test was bugged. Surely, they’d fix it.

His mind latched onto the thought, repeating it over and over like a mantra, trying to steady his frenzied heartbeat. He could almost picture it—leaving the Tower, handing in his resignation, telling Emily about the error. It would be so easy to walk away.

But then... something stopped him.

A flicker of a memory sparked at the back of his mind. All those stories. The countless hours he had spent reading about his favorite protagonists—the ones who faced impossible odds, standing at the edge of certain death. The ones who somehow, against all logic, found a way to win.

Cross’s feet stilled, his pacing slowing as the images of those heroes filled his mind. They had always made his pulse race, his excitement soar. Those characters didn’t back down, didn’t give in to fear or impossible odds. They fought.

What kind of protagonist would I be if I just walked away?

He could see them in his mind—the heroes he admired—each of them standing before their own do-or-die moments. The moments that had defined their stories. They had pushed through fear, defied fate, and fought back when all seemed lost. They hadn’t just survived—they’d thrived.

Now, it was his turn.

“If they could do it... why can’t I?”

The thought hit him like a jolt of electricity, a spark igniting in his chest. His heart stopped racing with fear and began beating with something else. A slow burn of adrenaline built inside him. He could almost hear the soundtrack from one of his favorite anime swelling in the background, the tension building, the music pushing him forward.

The excitement that came from facing the impossible. That rush... it was growing inside him.

Cross wasn’t just Cross anymore. He was a protagonist. And protagonists didn’t back down.

“Okay... okay, think, Cross,” he whispered, trying to center himself. His pacing slowed, each step more deliberate. “I’ve got seven days. Seven days to level up. I need to hit Stage One—doesn’t matter if it’s Body or Domain. I just need that power boost.”

His mind worked furiously. He could see the plan forming in his head—first, he’d find the Wendigo. That part wouldn’t be hard; his Heavenly Eyes could track it. The real problem was killing it. As things stood, he didn’t stand a chance. But if he could advance—if he could hit the first stage in five days—then, maybe, he’d have a shot.

“Five days to hit Stage One,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Then I’ll have time to set up traps and prepare for the final fight.”

His body trembled, a mix of excitement and terror clashing in his gut. The weight of the challenge loomed over him, threatening to crush him. But that feeling—that thrill he always got when he read about characters facing down impossible odds—it was growing.

He could feel it.

“Yeah... I’m going to fucking do this.”

His voice was steady now, the fear fading, replaced by iron determination. Cross wasn’t backing down. If this was his moment—the impossible, world-defying moment that every hero faced—then he was going to grab it with both hands.

Because that’s what the heroes did.

And now, it was his turn.

He wasn’t going to waste his second life. If he was going to live in this world, then he would live it like the heroes in those stories. The ones who rose from nothing and became legends.

And Cross? He’d make sure he lived up to that legacy.