Nathan sat on a park bench, his vacant stare focused on the monolithic tower that loomed over the city. It stood like a cruel titan, its towering structure piercing the night sky, its jagged edges resembling a skeletal finger reaching out to taunt him. The only sound was the distant hum of the tower, a low, ominous noise that at times sounded like a distorted laugh as if the tower itself was mocking Nathan's suffering.

With trembling hands, Nathan raised a weathered bottle of beer to his lips. As the cold liquid trickled down his throat, its taste mingled with the bitterness that consumed his soul. His weary eyes, reddened and heavy, gazed emptily into the darkness. His once formidable armor, made of rich leather, now hung disheveled upon his body, marred by stains of dirt and the blood of his friends. The weight of his sheathed sword pressed heavily upon his exhausted shoulders, a constant reminder of what had happened only a few hours ago. His hands gripped the bottle of beer tightly, knuckles turning white, as he desperately clung to a semblance of control. His brows furrowed, a silent battle waged within his troubled mind, his jaw clenched in an attempt to suppress the rising sorrow.  

The corners of his mouth trembled ever so slightly, and as the minutes passed, the weight of his sorrow grew heavy. He pressed his trembling lips together, fighting against the torrent of emotions that surged relentlessly from within. But the cracks in his facade were becoming more apparent. In a moment of sheer vulnerability, Nathan’s shoulders slumped, his grip on the bottle loosening. A tear trickled down his weathered cheek. It was swiftly followed by another, then another until a dam of restraint gave way entirely,  

“Stupid Tower,” Nathan’s voice trembled, and another feeling began to fester within his body, “Stupid fuckin tower.” Nathan's voice was thick with anger and frustration. He began to rant, the words pouring out of him like a dam had burst, “Why did it have to appear? Why did it have to take my friends away from me? What did we do to deserve this?” 

His voice reverberated in the empty space. Even more tears began to pour from Nathan's eyes, and his entire body began to tremble. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and staring out at the empty park. Nathan closed his eyes, trying to push away the memories of the battle. He could still hear his friend's screams, the sound of clashing metal, and the roar of the boss monster. He could still smell the acrid stench of blood and sweat. 

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He knew he couldn't go on like this, couldn't let the tower consume him. He had to find a way to move on, to find a new purpose in life. Nathan stood up, tossing the empty beer bottle into a nearby trash can. He took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs. He began to walk, his feet taking him down empty streets, past darkened buildings. The tower was always in the corner of his eye, a constant presence that seemed to watch him as he walked.

He didn't know where he was going and didn't have a destination in mind. He just needed to move, to keep walking until he found something that would give him purpose again. As he walked, he thought about his friends, about the moments they had shared. He remembered the laughter, the camaraderie, and the sense of belonging that had come with being part of a guild. He missed them.

He stopped at a street corner, leaning against a building and staring up at the tower. It was even more massive from this angle, seeming to stretch up into infinity. He could see the pulsing glow of the tower's light at the top. 

Nathan let out a deep sigh and pushed himself away from the building, continuing his aimless wander. He walked for what felt like hours, his feet carrying him through deserted streets and empty alleyways. Finally, he found himself in front of a small bar, the neon sign, ‘Open’, flickering in the darkness. It looked like the kind of place where the regulars outnumbered the tourists, and the atmosphere was warm and welcoming. Nathan hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door and stepping inside.

The bar was dimly lit, and the air was thick with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Nathan found an empty stool at the end of the surprisingly long bar and sat down, ordering a beer from the gruff bartender. He took a sip, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat.

He listened to the conversations around him, the low murmur of voices, and the clink of glasses. He felt a sense of comfort in the familiarity of it all, in the mundanity of the world outside the tower.

As he sat there, lost in thought, a man approached him from the other end of the bar. He was tall and lean, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore a long black coat, and Nathan could see the glint of a sword at his hip.

"Mind if I join you?" the man asked, gesturing to the empty seat next to Nathan.

Nathan hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Sure, I guess," he said, taking another sip of his beer.

The man sat down next to him, ordering a whiskey from the bartender. He took a sip, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Tough day?" he asked, looking over at Nathan.

Nathan nodded, feeling a sense of relief at being able to talk to someone who might understand. "Yeah, you could say that," he said, taking a deep breath. "My guild tried to take down the boss on the third floor, and my friends...they didn't make it."

The man looked sympathetic, his eyes flickering with understanding. "I know how you feel," he said, taking another sip of whiskey. "I lost my entire guild on the fifth floor. It's a rough world we live in."

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Nathan sighed, staring down into his beer. "Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it. All the pain, all the sacrifice...is it worth it for the money and power?"

The man took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes distant. "I used to think it was. When I first entered the tower, I was driven by ambition. I wanted to be the best, to conquer the tower and become a legend."

Nathan looked at him, curious. "What changed?"

The man shrugged. "Life happened, I guess. On the fifth floor, I lost my friends, my comrades, my family. I realized that the tower wasn't just a game, it was life or death. And I wasn't sure if I was ready to risk everything for a shot at the top."

Nathan felt a sense of kinship with the man, a shared sense of loss and pain. "What do you do now?" he asked.

The man chuckled ruefully. "I'm a solo hunter now. I wander the first five floors, taking on jobs and challenges as they come. It's not the most glamorous life, but it's a living. And it beats dying on some boss's blade."

Nathan nodded slowly, feeling a sense of respect for the man. "That takes guts," he said. "To go it alone like that."

The man shrugged. "It's not for everyone. But for me, it's better than being part of a guild that might betray you, or lead you to your death."

As the conversation unfolded, Nathan found himself opening up to the stranger beside him, sharing his pain and doubts with a newfound vulnerability. The man's understanding demeanor offered solace, like a beacon of empathy amidst the darkness that had consumed Nathan’s soul.

Nathan took a moment to appreciate the man's presence, realizing the significance of their encounter. 

"Thank you for listening," Nathan said, his voice laced with gratitude. "It means a lot to find someone who understands."

The man inclined his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "No need to thank me. After I lost my friends, I found myself in a similar situation to you…trying to drown out my sorrow with alcohol, and my eyes hurt from how much I cried. But then, someone helped me out of that despair, with a simple conversation. It didn’t fix me immediately, but without it, I'd still probably be a mess.” The man's smile grew larger and he chuckled, “The funny thing is, I never asked for his name. I don’t even remember what he looks like enough to find him and offer my thanks.” The man turned to me, “You could just think of this as me passing on that man's goodwill…also, we low levels have to stick together and help each other out.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, lost in their thoughts. The man finished his whiskey, setting the glass down with a sigh.

"Well, I should be going," he said, standing up. "Good luck to you, and stay safe. Oh, and my name’s John. I hope we can meet again sometime." Nathan waved goodbye, a grateful smile plastered on his face. Nathan finished his final drink and stood up, paying for his drinks and walking out into the chilly night air. Nathan continued to walk through the deserted streets, lost in his thoughts. The empty city was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of activity that he was used to seeing during the day. It was almost as if the city was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

As Nathan continued his solitary journey, an unsettling sensation clung to him. A persistent unease chewed at his consciousness, urging him to glance over his shoulder time and again, half expecting to catch a glimpse of a pursuer. Yet, with each turn, only emptiness met his searching eyes. He reassured himself that it was mere figments of his imagination, remnants of the battle on the third floor still haunting his senses. 

But then, it happened again. He could feel a chilling presence behind him. His heart quicked its beat, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. Yet, when he spun around, his gaze found nothing but an empty street. A frown etched its way onto Nathan's face, unease intensifying with every passing moment. 

Pressing onward, he attempted to dismiss the lingering sensation, dismissing it as a trick of the mind. But the feeling of being watched persisted. He fought to ignore it, to drown it out amidst the echoes of his footsteps. Soon, the truth became undeniable, someone was following him. Nathan's steps quicked, desperate to outrun the pursuer who eluded his sight. 

He broke into a fervent run, his muscles straining, as he sprinted through the deserted streets. Yet, the presence matched his pace, refusing to relent for even an instant. Breathless and exhausted, Nathan halted abruptly, his gasps for air breaking the silence of the empty city streets. There was nothing, not even parked cars, or the usual trash that littered the pavement. He spun around once more, his hand tightening its grip around the sword's hilt, preparing to finally confront the mysterious pursuer. But what he saw before him was not human, but a shadow. It stood motionless, approximately forty feet away from him, its imposing form shrouded in darkness.

 It was tall and seemed to be made of pure darkness, with no discernible features. It was like a void, sucking in all the light around it.

The shadow didn't move, but Nathan could feel its frightening gaze fixed on him. He couldn't move, couldn't think. He was paralyzed with fear.

And then, the shadow spoke. Its words were unfathomable to human comprehension, a mess of alien sounds as if hundreds of entities spoke at once.

Nathan did not know how to react. He was frozen in fear, and his mind raced to figure out what was going on. For a short instance, he thought that this could be a dungeon break, but only one monster stood before him, not trying to attack him, but trying to speak. 

 "Do you hate the tower, Nathan?" reverberated the voice, a deep sound that emanated from every direction.

Nathan's mind reeled. How did this shadow know his name? And how did it know about his feelings toward the tower? He hesitated for a moment, then answered truthfully.

"Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I hate it. I hate everything about it."

The shadow seemed to nod, though Nathan couldn't see any movement. "And do you want to see it destroyed?" it asked.

Nathan hesitated again, then nodded. "Yes," he declared, his voice infused with determination.

The shadow began to fade away, its edges blurring and melting into the darkness. "Good luck," it said. "They will be watching."

Nathan stood there for a moment, watching as the shadow disappeared. He was filled with a mixture of fear and curiosity. What was that thing? What did it want from him? And who was "they"? Nathan had a feeling that he didn't want to know.

He turned to walk away, still trying to process what had just happened. But then his vision began to blur, and he stumbled forward. He tried to catch himself, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. The last thing he remembered was the sound of his head hitting the sidewalk with a sickening thud.