Avis dropped into the chair, slouching as if he had all the time in the world. His fingers tapped a lazy rhythm against the armrest while he watched the receptionist from the corner of his eye. She looked nervous.
It wasn't even a full minute before two Tower Association personnel approached: a man and a woman in the Association's navy-blue uniforms. The man, tall and built like an ox, gave a curt nod. The woman offered a gentle, smile meant to reassure.
"Young boy, I'm Agent Brooks, and this is Agent Lee," the man said quietly. "We'll be escorting you to the observation wing. It's standard procedure. Those with active Tower Symptoms must be monitored—for their safety."
"And to figure out what's happening, I'm sure," Avis replied drily as he rose.
Agent Lee's smile faltered. "Our priority is your well-being. But yes… we also want answers."
They led him down a sterile hallway, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the silence. Door after door slid by, each marked with a number.
Through one observation window, a middle-aged man sat on a bed, staring blankly at the wall. Another room held a girl about his age, pacing with her arms wrapped tight around herself, lips moving rapidly—prayers, perhaps.
Avis didn't recognize any of them from his past life. Most of these poor souls had likely died on the lower floors.
At last, Brooks stopped at a door near the end of the hall and swiped a keycard. The lock beeped, and the door slid open. "Here we are. Room twelve."
Inside was a typical observation room—something between a hospital ward and a prison cell. White walls, a bed with crisp sheets, a small sofa, and a TV bolted high in the corner, a sad excuse for "entertainment." A camera watched from the ceiling. Avis resisted the urge to flip it off.
"We'll need to run a quick medical check, just baseline vitals," Agent Lee said apologetically as a nurse slipped inside.
They worked in silence: blood pressure cuff squeezing his arm, thermometer in his ear, flashlight tracing his pupils. He didn't flinch. Needles were nothing new.
Literally got stabbed in the back by my ex. Not much worse than that.
The nurse asked questions too, her voice gentle. "Any dizziness? Pain? How are you feeling?"
"Honestly," Avis said, leaning back, "I've never felt better."
She thought it bravado. A sympathetic hand touched his shoulder. "You're doing remarkably well. If you need anything—food, water, someone to talk to—press the call button by the bed."
"Thanks," Avis murmured, already drifting toward the wide window. Beyond it, the city glowed, oblivious to the fate the Tower had prepared.
Behind him, Agent Lee's tone shifted, formal now.
"As you know, the Tower remains a mystery. We don't know where it takes you, what it does to you, or where those chosen end up. But no matter what happens…" He hesitated. "Don't give up. This isn't the end for you."
Avis scratched his chin with a crooked grin. "Yeah… sure."
They left without pressing further. The door clicked shut, then locked.
Suddenly the room felt smaller.
Outside, the world carried on—people working, laughing, worrying about trivial things. No one would miss him. In his last timeline, his disappearance went unnoticed. No grieving family—he was an orphan. No friends, no girlfriend. Only the Tower Association and maybe a nosy neighbor cared.
Thinking about it, he had always been alone. The acquaintances he'd made in the Tower had died one by one, and the so-called friends he trusted… betrayed him.
He was alone.
Depressing, sure. But he wasn't innocent either. He had done plenty of ugly things to survive—his assassin's kill count so high he'd long stopped keeping track. Maybe solitude was just his punishment.
He shook the thought off. Brooding wouldn't help.
Surviving the Tower wasn't enough. This time, he would dominate it. And when the moment came, he'd kill every last one of those traitors.
Time dragged on. To burn off energy, Avis dropped to the floor and began push-ups. One, two, three… His body remembered, though this frame was still lean and young, far weaker than the hardened weapon it had become in the Tower.
Just as he was about to rest, dizziness washed over him. He stumbled, catching himself on the bedframe.
Oh. Is it time?
Right on cue, a tingling spread across his skin, like air before lightning. His hands began to glow, bluish-white light crawling over his body.
Then, a glowing screen appeared.
[You have been chosen by the Tower.]
[The Tower Calls For You.]
The light flared, brighter and brighter. His time here was running out. He knew exactly what came next.
But before the pull began, the intercom crackled.
"Mr. Avis, you marked that you didn't have family, but in the system it shows—"
Agent Lee's voice cut off as the world turned black. That half-sentence was the last thing he heard.
[May the blessing of the Tower be with you.]
Darkness swallowed him whole. His body and mind drifted for what felt like seconds.
.
.
.
Then, suddenly, he stood on a vast platform beneath a starless night sky.
The ground beneath his feet was damp with moss, the stone cracked and reeking of age and rot.
"..."
He wasn't alone. One by one, people blinked into existence around him, each arrival trailing faint ribbons of light that faded as quickly as they appeared.
Men and women of all ages stood bewildered—some still in pajamas, others in office attire, a few clutching bags or phones as if they'd been snatched away mid-stride. As the crowd grew, panic began to ripple through it.
"What the hell…?"
"Where are we?"
"This… this is the Tower, isn't it?"
Aviss tuned out the noise, his sharp gaze sweeping the surroundings. Four colossal spires loomed at the horizon—north, east, south, and west—all connected to the platform he stood on by titanic archways of stone.
So, I'm finally back. His hair stirred in the cold wind.
When the last confused figure finished materializing, a clear chime rang out.
[Welcome, Challengers.]
[You stand in Zone 7 of the Tower's First Floor: The Culling Grounds.]
[Objective: Endure the waves of monsters for 72 hours.]
[Clear Condition 1: Survive until all waves have been completed.]
[Clear Condition 2: If unable to endure the full duration, once the number of survivors reaches 15, all remaining participants will be permitted to advance.]
[Current Population: 50.]
[Failure: Death.]