The city is still shaking when the news drones arrive. They buzz in from every direction, silver cylinders with four rotors and bright projector eyes. A dozen of them stop above the cracked roadway, forming a perfect circle like floating search lights. The eyes flare white, and a giant image snaps into the smoky sky. A calm anchorwoman appears, hair fixed by industrial grade spray. Behind her glows the picture of the new tower. Tall red letters fill the air:
OFFICIAL NAME: CRIMSON TOWER She smiles as if she's announcing a holiday sale. "Citizens of Dawn City, and viewers worldwide, emergency networks are live. You can now download the Tower Pass app for verified alerts, safety zones, and—" her smile widens "—potential entry opportunities." Half the crowd is already reaching for phones.
I open the city store. There it is: a crimson icon shaped like the tower itself. TWR PASS 1.0, only twenty minutes old, already top download. The tagline reads: DARE TO ENTER? Bold choice. I tap install. The progress wheel crawls, servers straining under who knows how many clicks. While it loads, Leo, the skate kid, leans on my arm. "You think it shows monsters inside?" "Probably just warnings and legal stuff," I say, though the idea of live monster cams sounds cooler. A chime. Download done. The screen blooms red, then slides into black with a glowing START button. I press. A friendly fox avatar wearing explorer goggles bows. "Welcome, Challenger! Let's set up your pass." Step 1: Name. My courier ID autofills: ROWAN ARDENT.
Step 2: Birthdate and blood type, pulled from city records before I can blink.
Step 3: Finger scan. I press thumb to visor; a green pulse confirms. Next page: "When you reach the crater gates, your wrist band will print. Blood linked. Non transferable." A tiny disclaimer at the bottom warns of injury, illness, and "existential threat." Cheerful.
The fox vanishes. A dark screen shows a tall wireframe of the tower broken into fifty labeled floors. At the top it says: ENTRANTS 0 / ∞DEEPEST FLOOR — All zeros. I expected at least a test team or two, but the board is blank. A spinning note at the bottom reads: "Live refresh every sixty seconds." I exhale tension I didn't know I was holding. As long as nobody else is inside, I don't have to decide anything yet.
The drones switch feeds. Now we see a shaky press stage in front of City Hall. A gray haired spokesperson grips a podium like it might run away. Two mag armed guards stand behind him, trying to look relaxed. "Initial scans show the Crimson Tower is hollow, with stacked levels separated by reinforced gates," he says. "Air inside is breathable. No radiation detected. The structure seems to invite entry." Reporters shout. One voice cuts through: "How will entry be managed?" "Through the Tower Pass system," he replies. "Every climber will wear a wrist band that tracks position, floor depth, and life signs. Points are awarded for floors cleared, speed, and—" He checks notes. "—creative problem solving." Like we're signing up for a math contest. Another reporter yells, "What's the prize?" The man hesitates. "That… remains under study. The priority is safety." Behind him the board still shows zero entrants. The feed ends.
"Courier AAR DENT, reporting for chaos." Toby barreling over cracks in the pavement is always a sight, but today he looks like a neon traffic cone on wheels. Orange delivery trike, rainbow elbow pads, bright grin. He parks beside my grav bike (gravity defying motorcycle), breath fogging in the chill wind. "Place went to hell quick, huh?" "Just another morning," I answer. He taps my visor. "Tell me you saw the app." "Downloaded." "Good. We go in together, get floor one on camera, and quit deliveries forever. Simple." Leo punches a tiny fist in the air. "I'll film too!" Toby laughs. "New intern?" "Found him on a hill. Brave heart, no helmet." "I have a helmet," Leo huffs, raising his dinged skateboard lid. Toby winks. "Then we're a squad."
We follow the river toward the crater. Authorities threw up waist high holo fences (holographic fences) in record time. They flicker blue, projecting AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY, but gaps already exist where eager explorers lifted panels for selfies. Beyond the fence, med tents dot cracked asphalt. Nurses wrap arms cut by falling glass. Guild recruiters hand out flyers. Vendors fry noodles and slap CRIMSON CRISP stickers on paper cups. Dawn City turns everything into a market before lunch. A pop band's tour bus has parked sideways, blasting music while dancers rehearse a tower themed routine. I shake my head at human priorities. We reach the fence line and prop bikes against a lamp post. Sirens farther off start and stop like someone testing alarms. The tower looms beyond all of it, pulsing. Runes march up its length like fire ants. Toby lifts his phone, recording everything. "Ladies and gents," he narrates, "day one of the Crimson Climb vlog. That's Rowan—" he pans to me "—the shield mystery. That's Leo—" "Camera operator!" Leo chirps. "And behind us, the biggest ladder anyone's ever seen. Stay tuned for the step count!" He pockets the phone. "Now, let's grab our wrist bands." I stare across rows of pop up printers spitting red bracelets. People form snaking lines, laughing, arguing. Some already wave bands like concert tickets. But my stomach knots. "Not so fast," I say. "The board's still empty. Might take hours before they even open doors." Toby looks disappointed but nods. "Fair."
My visor pings softly. The Tower Pass icon flashes. I swipe open the leaderboard. The number 0 under Entrants flips to 1. A single row appears: Rank Name Floor1 UNKNOWN 1
I blink hard. The board loads again, same result. Someone beat the lockout. Toby stares at my screen. "How in…?" Leo points at the tower. "Maybe they started inside?" Impossible, but there it is. The crowd catches on. Murmurs spread, turning to shouts. Two guild scouts sprint to the board kiosk, trying to refresh faster than the system. Vendors scramble to change their signs from FIRST IN LINE NOODLES to SECOND BEST? STILL TASTES GREAT. A cold ripple moves through my chest. The tower hums louder, or maybe that's my pulse. My guard tattoo flares warm, a tiny ember begging air. Someone is already climbing. The race has begun, and I'm still outside the fence wondering about rent. Toby elbows me gently. "Looks like history didn't wait. What now?" I draw one slow breath. The tower's heartbeat answers with a thump against the sky, daring me to follow. "Now," I say, surprising myself, "we catch up." He grins like a sunrise. Leo cheers. The wrist band printers glow red, spitting the future one bracelet at a time. And somewhere deep in the Crimson Tower, an unknown climber takes another step.