Drip… drip. Uh, that damn sink is dripping again; I thought Dad fixed that last week. Reaching around, I feel for my pillow, and my hand patted around me for a few seconds before I realize I'm not in my bed. Groggily sitting up, I slowly open my eyes, looking around the stone chamber. Wait, stone chamber, what the heck. Jumping to my feet, my head smacks into a stalactite sticking from the ceiling over my head.

Yelling out, I reach up, clutching the top of my head. I can feel a knot forming. "uh, that sucks." I can also hear my voice echoing down a long tunnel. Sitting back down, I take stock. Let's see. I don't know where I am or how I got here. I'm in hiking gear. Well, that's good. At least I'm not in my pajamas and barefoot. What's the last thing I remember? I had ridden my bike to the foot of a mountain path. I remember hiding it behind a bush, and then I started jogging. Ah! I scream as pain shoots through my head. Damn, I can't remember anything after I started jogging.

Okay, memory screwed: check; pockets next, phone: check. I tapped the screen, and nothing happened. I was also holding the power button, and still nothing. Damn, it's dead, and I can't remember if I charged it recently—59 cents and an old pocket knife I borrowed from Dad. Okay, the room, I seem to be in a dead-end tunnel. So someone carried me? Oh, shit, was I kidnapped by some nut job?

Dad won't call the cops soon since I often hide in the mountains for days after my wife left me. It's good that Dad never trusted her and kept all our family assets in his name. That shocked her and her boy-toy when the judge told them I owned nothing that could be split. I could hear her screeching even now. What do you mean he is broke? He works for his Dad and is a manager. Then the judge in his creepy deadpan voice. He never got paid. His Dad paid for everything. I shook my head at the useless memories. Why couldn't those get muddled instead of the ones that could tell me where I am?

Standing around won't help; let's poke around some. Looking around my dead-end, I still don't see any way out. Damn, why would someone take the time to carry or drag? No, I wasn't dragged. I'm too clean. So Why would someone move me into a creepy? I want to say cave, but the walls look like worked stone. Sliding my hand along the smooth stone, I feel small joints like bricks. Or maybe they would be blocks? The floor is also worked stone, like cobbles but bigger and not rounded on the edges. The only part that looks natural is the ceiling or what I can see. It is mostly shadows. That's another odd thing; why can I see when no light source is available?

Turning in place one last time before walking down the corridor, I spot something I hadn't before. Not sure how I missed it, though. I swear it wasn't there when I looked the first time.

Tower #0000001 floor #001

Alright, that's a lot of zeroes. I hope I don't have to climb… or descend 100 flights of stairs to escape this weird place. Dragging my attention from the floor number, I look at the tower. Hopefully, all those zeroes on the tower are for serial numbers, or someone seriously needs a new hobby.

Suddenly a thought struck me. Did my weird roommate from college and his group of nerds kidnap me? After building one of their crazy, what did they call it? Oh, right, DnD games, but in actual life. This sounded like one of his irritating what-if scenarios he kept me up ranting about on many nights. — Huh, come to think of it, he also warned me about my ex. Guess he wasn't as off-the-wall bonkers as I thought. No, probably not them. Last I heard, their group ran a global online gaming platform.

These thoughts entertained me as I slowly made my way down the corridor. A soft shuffling ahead made me freeze and grasp the handle of Dad's knife harder till my knuckles hurt. The shuffling sounds are getting closer. I could feel my heart rate spike. Looking around me, I searched for any cover but nowhere to hide. Shuffling my feet backward, the noise stopped before a screech echoed down the corridor, and I could make out the sound of skittering feet, too many feet.

The sound sent shivers down my spine as memories of a summer in high school when my Dad lent me out to a construction friend of his. The Friend sent me to clean a section 8 house north of town. The former renters had never once cleaned. They poked holes in walls to throw garbage instead of using a trashcan. The fridge was full of rotting maggot-filled meat, and the power had been off for several months. While trying to nail the siding to the rotted Wall, the man in charge of my summer job grinned at me before kicking a hole in the house. He laughed as piles of bugs crawled or fell out right next to where I had been crouched. I decided right there Remo's work was not my future career.

Shaking my thoughts back into the present, I was about to turn and run when the creature came into view. It looked like a three-foot-long bug with sixteen clacking feet, eight on either side ending in sharp points. Fortunately, the bug didn't seem to see me as it ran past. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when I heard running feet coming closer from the same direction. Damn, it's running away from something, most likely whatever was hunting it. Probably won't be happy that I ruined its hunt. On the plus side, whatever is coming sounds like it has two feet, so maybe I can get directions on how to leave this crazy place.

A moment later, I changed my mind when a rat standing on two legs wielding a club ran screeching at me. What the heck is this thing? Suddenly words appeared above the rat's head.

Mutated molerat LVL 1

health 100%

As soon as I see that, I know what is wrong. I am lying in a coma, either at the bottom of a canyon or, hopefully, in a hospital. Depending on how long it's been. But why video game dreams? I was never that into games. Sure, I played them as a kid. My Dad has all the old classics, like Final Fantasy and Fantasy Star. Shouldn't my coma dream be like a boardroom? Or arguing with my ex, something more in tune with my life? Shit, I'm getting distracted again.

Crack... Daamn it, that hurt. The creepy molerat smashed his club into my knee, causing me to fall. "Shit.. shit," was as articulate as I could manage as I scrambled back on hands and feet, trying to keep a distance between me and the crazy mutant. Unfortunately, the monster was faster as it swung its club down on my head. A wooden club smashing into my face was the last I saw before the world turned black.

Jerking upright, I grab my face, feeling for my broken nose. "Bout time you wake, kid. I was getting bored," said a gruff, annoyed voice to my right. Turning my head slightly to look at him, pain shoots through my head again. Holding my head, I grunt at the man in a trench coat, of all things. "Sucks the first time, so what floor did you get to?" Holding up my middle finger, the man laughs, "first floor, holy shit, you got killed by club-wielding molerats that is hilarious." I don't think I will tell him it was a single molerat.

Ignoring the man, I looked around. But all I see is a dirty pathway and what might once have been a cylindrical tower that broke off a couple of stories sometime in the past. Turning back toward the creep, he stares at me with a shit-eating grin. "Fine, since you won't take the hint, I want you to go away. What do you want?" Lowering my hands, I get a better look at the irritating man. He is tall and well taller than me, at least. He is wearing a black trench coat with a tricorn hat. I could also see various bladed weapons underneath. "You acting the part of an 18th-century pirate or something?"

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

"What this old getup, nay, it's all equipment I picked up in the towers. Anyway, I am here cuz I drew the short straw and got to explain your not in Kansas anymore. My name is Francisco Martin Pinzon. My last memories of Earth were in September 1492. Sailing as the first mate aboard the La Pinta on a crazy trip across the sea."

"Wait, hold it right there. I may suck at history, but I know the first mate made it to land in October 1492." I stared at his shit-eating grin, getting more irritated by the moment. I know this game. My college roommate did this with his group. They called it larping, basically roleplaying as make-believe characters or historical figures. "You should play your role better. The first mate of something six hundred years ago. Would not know the whole Kansas trope, from the wizard of oz."

"No, I suppose that was a tad after my time, but what about them?" He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and turned my head to a nearby graveyard. The closest read Wilfred Carbuncle entered 2119 tower 0000001, floors 005. and on down the line until the stones were too old and corroded to read.

"How did they die?" I think the mutated molerat intended to make a meal of me. Looking down the rows of gravestones, I see several empty plots. I assume they are still alive somewhere.

"Some died from bounty hunters, others from stupidity, many from both. I know what you're wondering, and no, you can't permanently die in the towers. You can't be attacked near a tower, not by climbers or the locals." He sounds like he is reading off a list; so weird. "Every floor you complete in the first tower gives one day of reprieve on the outside. The second tower gives two days, and so on, so forth. I am currently climbing the 237th tower, so I get plenty of time for rest and exploration. What that means for you is, get ready. You got six hours at most."

"If you're on the 237th tower, why are you here?" I assume that is somewhere else, as I only see one.

"Easy, this is my spawn point. Once I die in the tower, I respawn here. I have been sitting here three days waiting on you, as I didn't want to waste a tele scroll to come back today. My tower isn't even on this planet, to be honest, and I won't be back for a while. I am taking a vacation from climbing, and I have been retrying my tower repeatedly for nearly twenty years now. I'm stuck at the 98th floor, some mirrored self monster but many times worse."

"How do the bounty hunters come in? Are they other climbers, or as you call them locals?"

"Ah, excellent question. It has been a while since I have seen someone from Earth with any common sense. The bounty hunters are climbers but from other races. Whatever system is in place here wants us to compete for what no one knows. Every floor you complete will raise your bounty by 1 gold and 100 gold for completing the tower. That's just the first, mind you. For instance, every floor is worth 237 on my tower and 23,700 if I complete it. Yeah, it adds up fast, so always watch your back. Luckily, once you complete a tower, you can't return to that zone, so you won't find someone like me wandering out there in the woods. Well, except this tower, it's the exception. Not the finding me out in the woods, though. I can't leave the vicinity of the little village."

"The locals are dangerous and your best friends but never treat them as. Hmm, what did that guy call them? Oh right, NPC's he thought this was a game and could do whatever he wanted to the locals. Well, he got a little too friendly with a certain emperor's daughter and ended up a head shorter for his prize. By friendly, I mean the shit raped her then sliced her to pieces before placing her head on the emperor's throne. Didn't even try to hide his crime, he thought, because he maxed his reputation. Whatever that means, he could do whatever he wanted without repercussion."

"How many spawn points are there?"

"Two for Earth anyway, one for men, the other for women. Never confront the women. I don't know how the system picks climbers, but all the women I have met are dangerous, like don't even look one in the eye. You see our graveyard how few empty plots there are? Well, there's is opposite, they always travel in massive groups too. I would say their faction collects 90% of the bounties. I know what you're thinking right now, too. Why don't we group up? Well, some tried. They built themselves a nice comfy castle away from anyone on a small moon without a tower. The amazons, that's, what we call them, still came, but they allied with the dark elves and wiped the males out. Afterward, they turned on the elves and turned them into slaves."

"Are you sure they're from the same Earth? It sounds like an alternate version, perhaps."

"That's one theory, honestly, and I don't care. Just stay away from climbers unless you're in a safe zone. Never trade with one either. That's a sure-fire way to get a bomb in your bed. If you bring it in yourself and blow yourself up, there is no respawn. It's seen as suicide. Oh, right that, don't commit suicide in the tower to leave early or no respawn. Let's see another question nubies like to ask ah yes, the language. Don't worry, and there is some universal language thing going on here. So even if you see a sentient slime climber, you can still understand his gloopy words."

"What about climbing in groups?"

"Sure, if you think you can trust them but never climb with climbers if you're killed by a climber inside the tower, your deaths for good. I am not saying there isn't a good climber out there, but I have never seen one yet. Climbers only care about one thing themselves, and you need to embrace that policy if you haven't already before coming here. Again, I am going to warn you as there are so few of us left. Never climb with a human woman or leave a safe zone with one. In fact, if one is in your safe zone at the same time, go back into the tower. When you fall inside, you will respawn here where they can't go. Then walk toward a different tower. It doesn't matter which one you go to. If it's at the edge of the fog, then it is the correct tower."

"What race are the locals?"

"Everything imaginable, oh, that's a good thought. They have a ban on Amazon from entering the human empires. You know, because of the whole kill all men on site thing. If you can make it to the one, you can find a comfortable home until it's time to move on. Don't break any laws, though. There is a zero-tolerance rule for climbers, after that gamer fiasco."

"Where do I get weapons?"

"Damn son, they built you for this place you are asking all the right questions. You can only take into a tower what you craft yourself or what drops for you in the tower. Otherwise, I would hand you a nice beginner weapon. Before you ask that village down below, we call it beginner village. You can use any crafting tools down there. Before you ask no, no one lives in the village once quite a few climbers stayed here, but well, you know. Don't group up, or the Amazon will find out, then best-case scenario you're someone's pet."

"I thought they couldn't enter here?"

"They can't, but can you honestly say you can stay here forever? Well, you could, I suppose, but waiting around for your next mandatory summons sounds really dull. Exploring new places is the best part of being the tower's prisoner."

"I should go down and see about making a weapon before I am summoned back inside. I assume when it's time, the tower will take me inside, right?"

"Yep, Alright, go learn to craft. I am going to see my family and take them on a tour of some random star system. For the next decade or five."

"I thought you said no women?"

"No, I said stay away from climber women. I met my wife in an empire. She is as local as can be and has no ties to the Amazon. Be careful that just cuz their locals don't mean they're not working with the climbers; always check backgrounds. That's easier in the cities as they keep centuries of data on all residents and catch anyone working with Amazon. They are stripped of citizenship and thrown out. That also includes known criminals of the male variety too. Although I don't think any are still alive."

I listened to the long-winded man for a while longer as he warned me about not eating strange plants without checking local herbalists and other nonsensical things that a five-year-old would know—repeatedly warning me to be wary of climbers, especially the human variety. Eventually, he pulled a piece of old-looking parchment from a pocket, ripping it in half. A round hole appeared in the air floating before me, the edges all wobbly, making my eyes hurt looking at it. The hole itself was a black void. I stepped back from the opening as it pulled inside the surrounding air.

Martin turned to me one last time. "Don't jump in after I leave. The gravity on the other side would turn you into meat past in less than a second."

I only nodded at his final warning, "good to meet you, Mr. Pinzon." Always be polite. You never know if you might have to work with someone down the road.

"Likewise, wait, you never introduced yourself," he said, slightly annoyed.

"Right, my bad, names Wallice Carmichael. Everyone calls me Wall."