Misfilia allowed herself a small, relieved smile—the first genuine one since she'd entered the room.
"You can enter anytime before the thirty-day deadline," she said. "But before that, there are things I need to explain properly. How the Tower works. How to call up and read your status window. How to manage your stats.
"And most importantly… how to handle your Core Cost. Because with a Regenerator class like yours, It's going to be very, very real."
She stood, gesturing toward the door.
"Come with me. We'll get you cleaned up, fed, and start the briefing. You've got time—but not as much as you might think."
Misfilia led them down another corridor to a small briefing room—sparsely furnished with a table, chairs, and a holographic projector humming faintly in the corner. The officer stayed behind, muttering something about paperwork. She gestured for Stray to sit, then pulled up a chair across from him. A vending machine in the corner dispensed two steaming cups of synthetic coffee; she slid one over to him.
"Core Cost," she began, her tone shifting to that of a veteran instructor—precise, unflinching. "It's the heart of what makes being a Denz a curse as much as a gift. Every single ability, every skill, every fragment of power you gain from your class... it all demands payment. And the price is personal. Unique to you. The Tower doesn't hand out free lunches."
Stray sipped the bitter brew, grimacing. "Personal how?"
She tapped her detection pad, summoning a simplified holographic diagram: a glowing mark splitting into branching paths labeled "Power" and "Cost," intertwined like veins.
"The system analyzes your soul—your fears, your history, your breaking point—and tailors the Cost accordingly. It's not random, but it's never fair. For most Denz, it's something they can endure with practice. For others..."
Misfilia nodded thoughtfully, closing the hologram with a flick of her wrist.
"I can't see your Core Cost," she said plainly. "No one can—except you, when you open your full private status window. That part is sealed even from detectors like me. The Tower made it that way on purpose. If enemies knew exactly how your power hurts you, they could plan around it, break you without even landing a killing blow. So Climbers keep their Costs secret. Some never tell a soul. Others only share with the closest party members after years of trust. Revealing it too early is suicide."
She stood, motioning for Stray to follow her down the hall again.
"Come on. We're not sending you in empty-handed. The government gives every new Awakened a basic preparation package—nothing fancy, but enough to survive the first few days."
They entered a supply room lined with lockers and shelves. A bored attendant in uniform glanced up, scanned Misfilia's badge, and pulled out a small kit.
"Standard starter gear," Misfilia explained as the attendant handed over the items one by one.
First, a simple steel dagger—short, balanced, with a plain leather sheath.
"This is your temporary weapon. Sharp enough for low-level monsters, durable enough not to snap on the first hit. Later, you'll loot or buy better ones inside—swords, spears, bows, whatever fits your style. Weapons in the Tower drop from monsters or chests, and they can have special effects, but for now, this will do."
Next, a lightweight leather vest and reinforced gloves.
"Basic armor. Won't stop a direct hit from anything above level 8, but it'll reduce cuts and bruises. Again, temporary. Inside, you'll find far better gear—sets that boost stats, resist elements, or even self-repair."
Then a small pouch containing three minor healing salves (external only), a canteen, dried rations for five days, and a flint striker.
"Consumables. The salves close shallow wounds without triggering your class—use them to avoid unnecessary pain early on. Food and water are plentiful on Stage 1, but always carry backup."
Finally, a thin metal bracelet with a faint glow.
"Return Beacon. One-time use. If you're about to die on the lower stages, activate it and it'll teleport you to the nearest safe zone. After Stage 10, they stop working—too many Climbers abused them to cheese bosses. Don't waste it."
She helped him strap on the vest and sheath the dagger at his belt.
"You'll also get a small advance—enough credits to buy extra supplies from the gate vendors outside the Tower entrance. Food, maps, cheap potions. Nothing luxurious, but it keeps newbies from dying in the first hour."
Misfilia stepped back, looking him over.
"It's not much, but it's what every Denz starts with. The Tower doesn't care about fairness—it rewards those who adapt fast and fight smart. Questions before we head to the gate district?"
Stray glanced at the gear one last time, then shrugged.
"No questions right now," he muttered. "Let's just go."
Misfilia gave a quick nod. "Alright. Time to move."
She stopped by the front desk, signed off on a few forms with the officer, and led Stray outside. A sleek black government sedan waited at the curb. She took the driver's seat; Stray slumped into the passenger side. The car pulled away smoothly, weaving into traffic.
For a while, neither spoke. Stray stared out the window—skyscrapers, billboards hawking climber equipment, people hurrying along sidewalks under a dull sky. Everything looked normal, yet completely alien.
"I'm taking you straight to the Primary Gate," Misfilia said, breaking the silence. "Once you're there, you step through. That's it."
"Yeah," Stray replied, voice flat. "Got it."
Inside, his thoughts raced. Am I really doing this? Woke up in trash, no name, no past—and now I'm heading to some death trap because a glowing mark says so. What if I die in there on day one?
Misfilia glanced over, reading his tension.
"You'll see other newbies at the gate," she said. "Some will look just as rattled as you. It's normal to be scared. But don't let it freeze you up. Stick to a few simple rules, and you'll have a real shot at coming out alive."
"What kind of rules?" he asked, turning toward her.
"Biggest mistake rookies make? Rushing. They grind non-stop, trying to blast through floors as fast as possible. Don't. Take your time on Stage 1. Farm experience slowly—learn how monsters move, how to swing that dagger without wasting stamina, when to dodge, when to strike. Get comfortable fighting before you push deeper."
She merged onto a highway, the massive silhouette of the Tower gate starting to loom in the distance.
"Stay away from packs early on. Hunt solo or with one cautious partner at most. And start with slimes. Seriously."
"Slimes?" Stray raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah," she said with a faint smile. "Little blue jelly balls. Slow, squishy, barely fight back. Perfect training dummies. Easy kills, decent XP, almost no risk. Once you've leveled a few times and got the feel for combat, move up to goblins or wolves. But anything more than a couple levels above you? Walk away. No heroics."
Stray nodded slowly. "Okay. But you said danger isn't just monsters…"
Misfilia's expression hardened.
"Right. Some Climbers prey on newbies. Quick loot, easy XP, less competition later. Player-killing's allowed on most floors—no system punishment. So keep your distance from strangers at first. Don't flash your status window. Definitely don't advertise your class."
"Why's the class such a big deal?"
"Because smart killers study common ones. They know the usual Core Costs, how to exploit them. Yours is rare, so less info out there—but if someone figures out you're a Regenerator, they'll nick you a hundred times and watch you scream yourself unconscious. Hide it until you're sure about someone."
Stray snorted quietly. "And how am I supposed to trust anyone if you're telling me not to?"
"I'm not saying trust nobody. Just… earn it. There are good people climbing too. When you find ones who aren't out for blood, form a party. Hunt together, split XP and drops fairly. Someone's got your back, you've got theirs. Way safer than solo—especially early on."
The car slowed, pulling into a vast parking area ringed by security barriers. Ahead, the Primary Gate towered—an immense stone arch crackling with blue energy, crowds of armed figures gathering near its shimmering threshold.
"We're here," Misfilia said, turning off the engine.
Misfilia pointed toward a dense cluster of people gathered near the massive shimmering arch.
"See that crowd over there? That's the entrance queue. From here on out, you go the rest of the way alone."
Stray glanced at her, a flicker of unease in his eyes. "And you?"
"I don't go any farther," she said simply. "You need to start adapting on your own now."
He hesitated, then sighed. "Fine."
He pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool air. Misfilia leaned across the seat.
"Take care of yourself, Stray."
The car pulled away smoothly, leaving him standing alone.
Damn it, he thought, staring after the fading taillights. Why didn't I just stay dead in that trash heap? Would've been easier.
He shook his head. Whatever. Too late now.
With slow steps, he walked toward the crowd. The closer he got, the heavier the atmosphere felt. Dozens—maybe hundreds—of new Climbers milled around, all waiting for entry. Some wore full sets of cheap armor, looking almost professional. Others were barely clothed, shivering in threadbare shirts. Nervous whispers and forced bravado filled the air.
Stray felt eyes on him—curious, wary, sizing him up. His skin prickled.
Suddenly, a hand clamped onto his shoulder from behind.
He flinched hard, spinning around with the dagger half-drawn.
A boy about his age stood there, grinning sheepishly. Blond hair poked out from under a worn cap, and he wore a faded green jacket that had seen better days.
"First time here?" the boy asked, letting go and raising both hands innocently.
"Yeah," Stray answered, relaxing slightly.
"Thought so. Me too." The boy's grin widened. "But I know a ton about this place."
Stray frowned.
"If it's your first time, how do you know so much?"
"Books, forums, stories from veterans—come on, man. You didn't do any research before getting dragged here?"
Stray shifted uncomfortably. "Not really."
"Ah." The boy nodded knowingly. "A real newbie, then. No shame in that." He stuck out his hand. "Name's Bob. Yours?"
"Stray."
"Stray?" Bob tilted his head. "Kinda weird name, but cool. Fits the vibe." He jerked a thumb toward the gate. "Wanna hunt together once we're inside? Safety in numbers and all that."
Stray hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly. Can I trust this guy? He shows up out of nowhere, all friendly… could be a setup.
Bob seemed to read his doubt. He chuckled softly.
"I get it—you're thinking I'm one of those psychos who stab newbies in the back. Nah, not me. Besides," he added with a shrug, "if I wanted to kill you, I could've done it already."
He extended his hand again, palm open.
Stray stared at it for a second, then clasped it firmly. "Fine."
Just then—
BOOM.
A loud burst echoed from the front of the crowd. A cloud of colored smoke billowed upward, and a raised platform materialized out of nowhere. Standing atop it was a man in elaborate, almost theatrical attire—flowing cape, polished boots, a gleaming staff in one hand.
"Good morning, everyone!" he boomed, voice amplified across the entire plaza. "I am Deryug Fetsomen, Head Overseer of New Climber Orientation. Before you step into the Tower, I have a few important announcements and guidelines to share."
The restless chatter died instantly. Every eye turned to the stage.