)
The warehouse was gone.
The ground beneath them rumbled as the steel platforms rose, grinding upwards into a vast tower of shifting, unstable floors. Chains swung in the air like pendulums. Rusted beams jutted out, some slick with oil, others barely wide enough for a single step. Above, the ceiling stretched into darkness, but faint red lights blinked higher and higher, marking the distant summit.
A distorted voice boomed across the chamber:
"The Tower Game. The rules are simple: reach the top. Work together… or don't. Fall, and you die. The choice is yours."
The steel beneath their feet groaned. Already, parts of the floor began to tilt, collapsing into the void below.
Aya clutched Arata's arm, her nails digging into his sleeve. "We'll climb together, right? I'll follow you anywhere."
Riku spat to the side. "Don't make me laugh. If I see a chance, I'll watch you drop, Arata. And I'll enjoy it."
Daichi trembled, muttering, "I… I can't do this, I can't—" before Haruto snapped at him, "Pull yourself together, or you'll be dead in the first minute."
The new candidates studied the tower warily.
The soldier cracked his knuckles, sizing up the climb.
The nurse whispered a prayer under her breath.
The teacher adjusted his glasses, scanning for patterns.
And Miyako Ren… she simply smiled, her eyes following Arata as though the rest were scenery.
The first platforms creaked, threatening to give way. Instinctively, the group hesitated—except Arata.
He stepped forward calmly, hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning the structure like reading a puzzle. He spoke with quiet authority:
"The platforms collapse in a pattern. Every third step rotates, every fifth crumbles. If you waste time arguing, you'll be dead before the second level."
The others stared. Haruto narrowed his eyes, realizing how quickly Arata had analyzed it. Aya's lips curved in pride. Riku cursed under his breath, but his glare was tinged with unease.
The soldier barked, "And who made you the leader?"
Arata turned, his smile polite, almost gentle. "Not me. The tower did. But if you'd prefer to climb blind… be my guest."
The soldier froze, his jaw tight. The others said nothing. For the first time, all eyes were on Arata—not as the timid boy they once knew, but as the natural predator he'd revealed himself to be.
One by one, they followed.
The first level was chaos—platforms shifting, chains swaying, gaps widening. Players leapt across unstable beams, grabbing onto rusted bars. The air filled with the screech of metal and the distant echo of falling debris.
Daichi nearly slipped, but Haruto yanked him back with a curse. The nurse cut her palm on a jagged beam, blood slicking her grip. The teacher muttered calculations under his breath, already sweating.
And Arata?
He moved with precision, never rushing, always one step ahead of the collapsing platforms—as if the tower itself whispered its secrets to him.
At the second level, the platforms narrowed. One path forked: a wide but unstable bridge to the left, or a narrow but solid chain to the right.
The group hesitated. Arguments rose. Riku shouted, Aya begged Arata to decide, the soldier growled that they didn't have time—
And then Miyako Ren spoke.
Her voice was soft, lilting, cutting through the noise. "If you take the left bridge, three people will fall before we reach the next level. If you take the right, only one will slip."
Everyone turned to her. She stood with arms folded, eyes half-lidded, her crimson dress swaying faintly in the draft. She smiled at Arata.
"What would you choose, Arata?"
The air froze. The way she said his name—direct, intimate, like she already knew him—made Aya stiffen, clutching him tighter.
Arata's eyes met hers. For the briefest moment, a spark passed between them. She was testing him. Not following. Not defying. Testing.
Arata smiled back, cold and amused. "Whichever path bleeds less. Efficiency over sentiment. The right."
Ren's smile widened faintly. "I thought you'd say that."
The others exchanged uneasy glances. Already, a dangerous connection was forming between the two.
They pressed forward.
The chain path proved brutal. Only one could cross at a time. The first few made it, clinging desperately, sweat dripping as the chain swayed.
Then Daichi slipped.
His scream tore through the air as he dangled, one hand gripping the slick chain, his legs flailing over the void. "Help! Please—help me!"
Haruto moved, reaching out—
Riku snarled, "Let him go! He'll drag us all down!"
Aya screamed, clinging to Arata, "Save him!"
The group froze in chaos. Daichi's grip was failing.
Arata stepped forward. Calm. Cold. His hand extended—not to pull Daichi up, but to rest lightly on Haruto's shoulder, halting him.
"Think carefully," Arata murmured. "If he survives, he'll only slow us again. Dead weight costs lives."
Haruto froze, horror in his eyes. Daichi's scream rose higher—
And then the chain jerked. His fingers slipped. His body plummeted into the abyss below, his shriek fading into silence.
The group stared in shock. Some pale, some furious, Aya trembling, clutching Arata as though he were the only anchor left.
Arata smiled faintly.
"One less liability."