Chris shook his head as he walked, leaving Kingscastle behind him. He’d gotten the necessary armor and shield that he’d been missing—as well as food, water, and a few basic supplies stuffed in a backpack.

He’d talked with Sarah before he left. The situation was bleak, to say the least. Animals were mutating left, right, and center. The worst of those came from the coasts, oceanic horrors crawling from deep sea trenches to dry land, wreaking havoc on a besieged humanity before slithering back into the deeps.

Those in the cities had it worst. Rampaging beasts released from zoos had toppled skyscrapers and apartment buildings like toy towers—consigning all within to tombs of glass, concrete, and twisted steel.

The geography of the world had begun to shift and strange flora and fauna sprung out of these places. In others, great gaping tears in the sky released floods of alien soldiers who could only be put down with military grade explosives and high caliber rifles.

Most technology had been rendered inoperable by what Sarah had called the apocalypse and, as far as anyone could tell, the moon was just gone. Earthquakes had wracked the planet and across the world, the climate had been changing beyond any capacity to predict.

The sun was smaller, but compensatorily brighter, and the sky was an even deeper blue. And, lacking a moon, the nights were incredibly dark—revealing a sea of stars and unfamiliar planets hanging in the sky above them.

In brief, it was chaos, and most of humanity was already dead—with the rest of the world soon to follow in their footsteps. As Sarah had called it: the apocalypse.

There were glimmers of hope. Whether it was true or hearsay, a few bastions of humanity had risen to fight and reclaim the darkening planet. The military had also been putting up a good fight, but some of the monsters appearing were heavily armored. Guns were useful, but they weren’t always enough. Not against dense flesh and armored plating several inches thick. With all the world’s factories and supply lines ground to a halt, ammunition and explosives were now a non-renewable resource.

But, most of all, the biggest killer—particularly in the cities—was hunger and thirst, leading to migrations out of urban areas, harried by mutated animals and otherworldly predators as they went.

The tutorial would last a year, at which point everyone would be teleported back to where they came from. Most of the humans to Earth. Chris to Xal.

So much had changed, even in a single week. Chris had wanted to return to Earth after the tutorial ended, now he wondered whether it would even be there when he returned. It was a sobering thought, and one better not dwelled upon for too long.

If he could return now, would he? Would it be enough? Chris sighed and pursed his lips together. Definitely better not dwelled upon.

He looked behind him. He should be far enough away. He didn’t want to try planting the Tower Seed inside the walls of Kingscastle. It would be one hell of a thing to explain if his settlement got crushed by a tower that just popped up out of nowhere.

This would be as good a place as any. He placed the Tower Seed down on the ground. It burrowed into the soil and Chris took a step back as he felt the ground shift and rumble beneath his feet.

The ground heaved and buckled. Chris ran back farther, putting distance between himself and whatever was trying to escape the earth. The force pushing upward intensified, until, with one final heave, a small shoot with two tiny leaves pushed itself out of the ground.

Was that all there was? Was he seriously going to have to play some goddamn farming simulator to get his class skills?

Then dirt exploded upward as the sprout suddenly shot upward, geysering up into the air upon a beanstalk like those of story and fable. It was strong and thick, the circumference of two people joining hands and gave off an air of green majesty—the quiet pride of the oak.

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Broad leaves pressed up against the stalk as it rose higher and higher, penetrating a low-lying bank of cloud that had spontaneously appeared and disappearing out of sight. It must have been visible for miles, maybe more.

As suddenly as its growth had begun, its ascent halted and the leaves pressed tight to the stalk unfurled in a spiral around the plant, creating a precarious staircase of wide leaves.

Chris walked up to it and placed his foot upon the first leaf. It was more stable than it looked. The leaf held his weight as he went for the next. Soon he was circling the stalk, climbing higher and higher.

Reassured by the consistency of the leaves, he began jogging up, before breaking into a sprint. The top was still a long way up. As he ascended a slow wind began to tug at him, strengthening as he climbed higher. It whistled around the stalk, threatening to dislodge him but never attempting to do so in earnest.

Still, Chris placed his free hand on the stalk to steady himself all the same. It wouldn’t be worth getting blown off by an overly strong and unexpected gust. He was high up now, two thirds of the way there. Kingscastle was the size of a coin below. A fall from this height would likely kill him.

Honestly, he should have seen if a parachute was available. Not that he expected something like this in the first place. But there was no time to go back now. The threat of what he thought of as the tower vine was implicit. Just as the markers above the settlements indicated to all nearby that a town lacked Starter Protections, the height of the vine was a clear signal to any who wished to cause problems.

Chris had little doubt that the tower vine had some useful properties, or at least that messing with it in some way would benefit anyone who dared to do so—should its owner to prevent them.

Still, the inherent and unknowable time limit didn’t prevent him from looking around. From this height the settlement markers were on a similar level to him and he could see miles beyond the horizon line at ground level.

He didn’t have much time, but in the distance was a range of mountains. Near the mountain’s feet lay a colorful purple forest that sprawled luxuriously up against a sinuous, glinting river. In other places steaming hotpools belched out fumes and towering geysers of bubbling water. Plains and forests occupied most of his view, but at the horizon he thought he saw a red glint of fire and blasted rock. A volcanic region?

And dotted through all of this, was the occasional settlement, markers of all different colors flaring and dimming above them.

He even saw the edges of a few markers poking up over the horizon line—it was good to know that this wasn’t the limit of the world’s size, and that whatever planet they were all stranded on was spherical.

After a moment more to appreciate the view, Chris darted up the final stretch of the tower vine. He passed through layer upon layer of cloud, thick and choking white around him. Then, finally the cloud thinned and he saw blazing blue sky and sunlight around him.

The tower vine extended a little farther up, maybe a hundred meters or so. At its top, beyond the glare of the sun, he could just see the gem of the Tower Seed glinting. Interesting. It hadn’t been consumed.

Wanting to test something out, he summoned his Beastblade and sliced at the tip of a small leaf. Nothing. The leaf hadn’t even suffered a scratch. He hacked harder. No result except almost unbalancing him. One final time, as hard as he could, with [Sunder] active. The leaf remained undamaged.

That was good. He glanced up at the Tower Seed again at the top of the vine. He’d probably have to remove it once he was done. Was that the benefit? If someone wanted another Tower Seed could they climb up and steal it? He’d better be quick then.

One last thing to test. He placed his foot over the edge of a leaf, closed his eyes, and visualized taking another step. [Danger Sense] didn’t activate. That meant that the skill might not warn him about unsure footing, or maybe it sensed that he didn’t intend to actually go toppling over. Either way he didn’t want to risk it.

Chris shrugged off his bag and retrieved a small stick from inside. He pushed a tiny amount of mana into it and it telescoped out. It was one of the supplies he’d brought along with him. He’d wanted to use it to test for traps, since the Tower of the Manifold Adept had sounded exactly like the sort of thing that would have traps in it.

The vine reaching up to a plain of clouds was a pretty good clue as to what was going on—it was practically a trope—but the System was a dick, so it might just let him fall to his death the moment he took a step. Better to not believe the clouds were stable.

He tap-tap-tapped at the cloud in front of him. The pole sank in half a foot before hitting something with pillowy firmness. Tropes prevailed! But the System was still a dick, so it was best to use the stick to guide his footsteps.

He glanced down, between the spiraling leaves of the tower vine, but there was only cloud below him. That definitely hadn’t been, in any part, stable.

Then he turned and gasped at what he saw. A tower of white and gold stood upon a sea of clouds.

Using his pole to guide his way, he set off toward it.