Sam stood third in line at the checkout counter, his basket holding pasta, chicken, and the single soda he’d allow himself to indulge in this week. Payday was still a few days away, and though he looked forward to it, his work as a courier never seemed to convert into enough cash.
He shuffled forward as the line moved, trying to ignore the growing tension in his chest. The young woman ahead of him was buying skin care products that quickly racked up a total close to his own monthly salary.
Sam glanced away, feeling a dull pang, not quite envy, but a reminder of his own limitations. He pulled out his phone, preparing his bank app as the cashier began stuffing the woman’s expensive soaps, creams, and facemasks into bags.
The woman swiped her card with a casual flick of the wrist, her transaction completed in seconds. The familiar shrill of the receipt printer cut through the air, a sound Sam couldn’t help but envy. The convenience of a bank card—swift payment, in and out, no questions asked—was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He bit his lip as he stepped up to the counter, the cashier already turning to him with the same expectant gaze.
“Transfers?” Sam asked, his voice tight as he emptied his basket onto the aluminium counter. The cashier nodded, gesturing at the account details taped near the price reader, and Sam’s stomach tightened. He already had the supermarket’s account saved in his bank app—he was a frequent visitor—but it never hurt to ask. Best to avoid tragedies.
“That’ll be twelve dollars,” the cashier said, looking up at Sam with a polite, yet practiced, smile.
“Right, let me just…” Sam carefully pushed in his pin, his fingers trembling slightly. He watched his oil-smeared screen load for a second before the entire app collapsed. His heart skipped a beat, panic bubbling up as he quickly reopened the bank app, only for it to crash on boot, not even giving him the chance to log in.
His pulse quickened as he tried again, only for his phone to black out entirely. It was over five years old, the glass screen cracked and worn from too many drops and spills. But this… this was new. Sam glanced at the cashier, who had taken the opportunity to relax in his seat. A small mercy, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before the people in line behind him grew impatient.
His phone booted up faster than usual, almost unnaturally so. Relief washed over him, but it was short-lived. His phone hadn’t shut down at all. On the oil-darkened screen, a message appeared, the UI starkly different, almost like something out of a virus from the early 2000s.
‘Congratulations! You have been selected among billions of your species to—’
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“Sir?” The cashier’s voice cut through the moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the counter. “Have you sent—”
“Uh, uhm, I’ll be right back. Let me get some cash outside. Twelve dollars, right? I’ll be back.” Sam hurriedly left the mart, his mind racing. He knew better than to waste time trying to solve the problem there.
Outside, he paused to catch his breath, the early autumn air cool against his flushed skin. His hands trembled as he brought his phone closer, reading the odd, scam-like message on the screen.
[Congratulations! You have been selected among billions of your species to pioneer the Towers of Regalia alongside Ninety-Nine others! Rejoice!]
His heart hammered in his chest as his eyes widened at the word ‘Tower’. He snapped his head up, searching the sky for the anomaly that had shaken the world over a year ago. And there it was—one of the thirteen towers that had mysteriously appeared across the globe, hovering ominously above the city on an island of dirt, concrete, and rubble.
The tower was massive, visible no matter where you were in the state. It followed both the sun and the moon in their arcs, sometimes even blocking them out entirely. The governments of the world had no explanation, no solutions. Warnings were constantly issued to ‘Tower Chasers,’ those reckless enough to approach these monoliths of the unknown. Modern technology and weaponry were useless against them; even nuclear strikes had failed to leave so much as a scratch.
Sam’s breathing grew shallow as he read the message again. Was this a scam? Or was it really connected to the Doom Towers that hung over humanity’s head? But why would anyone want to hack me? I’m dirt poor. Before he could process the thought, the message changed.
[Regalia of Fractured Glass Bestowed!]
What? Regalia?
Before Sam could truly grasp what was happening, the message glitched off the screen, replaced by a strange, electric sensation rushing through his body, emanating from the hand holding the phone. His knees buckled, and for a moment, he was sure he’d collapse. But he forced himself upright, his legs trembling beneath him.
His phone returned to its usual state, the cracked screen displaying his lock screen—a cat flipping him off, its smirk mocking him as usual. But something was different. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he noticed the subtle changes in the UI. The battery symbol wasn’t a battery anymore—it was a tower, each level lit up to show his remaining power. The percentage value was still there, but it suddenly felt insignificant.
A new message appeared on the screen, no longer looking like a virus but more like a newly installed application. The message bubble was shaped like a horizontally lit tower, the words inside screaming at him—
[Towers of Regalia Active for Regalia of Fractured Glass; 12 of 13]
Before he could even begin to digest what this meant, a wave of commotion washed over him. People were stepping out of their vehicles, pointing toward the sky, their faces masks of fear and awe. Some were screaming, others running toward the source of the chaos.
Sam’s gaze followed theirs, his stomach knotting as he saw it—the Doom Tower that had loomed over his city for the past year, the impossible structure that defied all understanding, was descending, coming closer to the ground for the first time since it had appeared.