Nobody ever desired riches more than the unlucky kids in the slums of Malas Town. You didn't have to worry about being robbed of your money here because everyone wondered where their next meal would come from. Homicides done over bread are more common than robberies for coins or items.
The night sky was crying tears onto the face of one of the slum-born rats, a child named Worthy who just received another harsh reminder that going out at night alone, even if it was for a valiant reason, is the dumbest decision you can make in this town.
"Ugh… It's pretty bright tonight, isn't it?" Groaning as he lays with his head in a pile of dirt, or what he hoped was dirt, the streetlight has certainly become a bit brighter thanks to the concussion one of the rounder boys gave him. Rummaging through trash at night used to be more safe, but it looked like someone was finally starting to spread the information that kids were going through trash.
"What the hell's the point of getting mad about people taking the trash you didn't want?" Those bastards didn't come here just to beat him up, though it wouldn't be the first time a group of kids did something so petty. Worthy knew they'd been paid to patrol this specific shop, a general mart that was sponsored by the capital. The owner was probably the richest man in the entire town thanks to that sponsorship, and this also instilled a certain fear that made it impossible for the masses to think about robbing the store altogether.
That fear didn't apply to their garbage, however. Worthy's plan was to dig through the dumpster behind the store and take anything that looked valuable enough to trade or sell, maybe even something surprisingly edible like clay… Clay is edible, right?
'Fuck, they just beat me up and walked off. Those slackers just wanted a reason to kick somebody's butt.' It'd have been more optimal to beat the boy and drag him away from the store.
Instead of escorting him away from the shop, the group of youth simply beat Worthy to a pulp and left him in the same alley he'd come to rummage in. Either they were terrible at their job or sympathized with someone trying to make a living. Whichever of the two, Worthy can now dumpster dive for 10 minutes before those boys come back from whatever wanderer they're going to pester next.
His dive is surprisingly fruitful. A box of popsicles was in the trash, thrown out for a reason irrelevant to him. Better than the box of popsicles, much to his chagrin, was the bag of bread.
There were specks of mold on some of the grub, but not nearly enough to dissuade someone that hadn't eaten for several days. "Score! This is a big score!" To someone like him, this was akin to finding a meal and some juice.
He stuffs the bread into the same box as the melted popsicles and runs—or skips, thanks to his limp—back home to his abode.
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When he arrives home, the door, hanging from its hinges as usual, is already open for him. The door never really locked or closed completely, so they at least pretended their home was secure by having a net hanging in the house.
"Pops, I'm home!" He calls to his father, eyes indifferent to his little sister sitting on the old, worn couch in the middle of the room.
It was intentional, obviously.
"Wow," the voice of the small, brown-haired child comes from behind Worthy. "I was waiting by the door for you to come back and you can't even greet me? Prick!" Such vulgarities had no place coming from the lips of a girl no older than 10. That's just how kids are in Malas Town.
"I greet you every day, you can go a day without one. It's not like you do anything."
"Yeah? Well maybe you should learn the princ-" His sister's sentence trails off when she turns over on the couch to look at her brother.
Her expression twisted a little when she saw the bread inside of the box. "Worth, is that moldy bread…? Please don't tell me you really brought moldy bread home. I know 'beggars can't be choosers' or whatever that saying is, but we literally don't have enough water to wash all that down and not die."
Worthy has an impish grin on his face. He digs his hand into the box and pulls out a row of thawed popsicles, perfectly sealed and dangling in a complete set. "Who says we've got nothin' to wash it down with?"
Then, from the lone alcove across the room, connecting to the 'kitchen' of their small house, a new voice and figure emerges. "Hell, Worth! I'll be damned! That dumpster-diving nonsense actually worked?!"
His father had gotten so used to seeing him bruised and beaten from the harsh life in the town that he hadn't stopped to question why his son was so battered after a simple dumpster-diving voyage. Instead, his large hands quickly captured the box from his son's hands, relieving him of its weight. "Good man! Good man, buddy!" He rubs a knuckle on Worthy's head, an affectionate sign of approval.
Their house wasn't too shabby compared to the rest of the slums. You could at least count the amount of holes they have in their roof here.
Hours later, the trio was sitting on the couch. Worthy, the oldest child, sat on the right left side of the couch. The youngest, Hopeful, was nestled in the middle between her brother and father. At the very end, their father, Coward, sat and devoured three loaves of bread. A working man who hasn't eaten in days will take anything given to him, and then some.
This was the life they lived, using thawed popsicles as beverages and treating moldy bread like it's a delicacy.
'...I'm sick of it… We're in it together, though. At least we have each other. All we have to do is wait.'
To Worthy, they were just biding their time. Even when the Enforcers came down and heckled the citizens and thugs robbed them, all they had to do was wait.
Evangelica would return from the Tower one day.
'It's already been 6 years. She isn't coming back. I've seen dozens of people come out of the tower each year. She isn't one of them. Maybe she never will be.'
Sensing the gloomy atmosphere, Coward snaps his fingers at his son. "Hey. Hey. Worth, you're rainin', pal."
A stumped Worthy looks at his father, drawn from his stupor by that unusual phrase. "What does that even mean? I'm raining?" He chuckles.
Hope interjects, "It means you're messing up the energy, jackass. You're making it depressing here!" His sister has never been the type to hold back words, leaning over the couch to jab several fingers into his chest.
Coward, ignoring the yelp that comes from his daughter being thrown off the couch, reclines back on the worn cushions. "Worth. You're getting tired of living like this, huh?" Letting that sorrow build up in his son wouldn't do anything. Everyone in the slums had their own issues, but he'd be a horrible father if he didn't stop to hear what his son had to say.
Using one hand to hold Hope back, Worthy looks down and then looks back up at his father. "Mom's dead, isn't she?" That… came out way too blunt.
"I mean, she hasn't come back from the Tower in years. We've seen so many people forfeit climbs and they come out with enough to live comfortably. If she even made it to the third floor, she could've come back with three Rewards, then used them to get us out of this… pisshole!"
There was a sour look on Coward's face, but he did not stop his son from ranting. No, he lets the boy shout his heart out. Even Hope, who had previously been adamant on protecting the mood, was no longer fighting to assail her brother.
She didn't know their mother as well as Worthy did, it was an undeniable truth she'd accepted a long time ago. All the memories of their mother she had were from before 6 years ago.
Finally, when Coward spoke, his voice carried a deep, emotional weight that made the air tremble. "I understand, son. Really, I've lived 40 years on this earth. Trust me when I say to you… I understand more than anyone. You see those people leaving after giving up, knowing they still got rewarded for half-assing the effort. You think they're going to go to the capital and lead an easy life now that they've got something 'supernatural', a distinguishing piece of a massive puzzle."
Worthy opens his mouth to refute, but cannot. His father is spot-on.
"Evangelica went into the tower with the hope of reaching the very top — the 10th Floor. That floor that no one has ever reached before. Just like the other towers, when she reaches the top, she'll have everything she could ever wish for. Everything. Doesn't that sound nice to you, son?"
"...It does, dad. It sounds amazing. I want to wake up and be able to say that my mom came home after all those years and gave us everything we ever wanted… I want to hug my mom and ask her about all the stories of what she did and saw, dad! I want my mom back here, where we can sit through this shitshow together, because right now — everything I said doesn't feel fucking real!"
The prospect of seeing his mother was too unrealistic for Worthy to stand by. The men and women that left the tower were never whole, ever. Some were missing arms, others missed their legs. Conditions among the climbers varied, but the state that they were found in left many concerns over whether clearing the tower was a task for any human. The highest floor ever reached is Floor 5. Only halfway up the tower, hundreds have been dragged through a slaughterhouse.
Of the countless people that enter the tower every day trying to make it big, around a hundred have actually exited and shared their findings.
Among these hundred, Evangelica was nowhere to be found.
So, when faced with the choice of fruitless faith or accepting reality, he knew the most befitting choice.
"She's never coming back, and we'll sit here rotting away until we either get lucky or do something about it ourselves." A dark resolve settled in Worthy's eyes somewhere along the way.
"Worth…" Hope and Coward try saying something in unison, but Worthy cuts them off.
Nothing they say can change his decision, one that'd already been made after the beating he took from those boys. It was why he came home, so joyous over a meal. His family would be able to eat and drink something with flavor, even if it were a nasty one. His sister could smile, though he was guilty of robbing her of that smile with the ongoing chat.
"Tomorrow, I'm going to go into the tower."
"No."
"No way, you can't!"
Neither Coward nor Hope were accepting of this answer, despite the fact that they saw it coming.
"We're eating garbage!" Worthy shouted to no one in particular, maybe both of them.
"And so damn what, Worthy!?" His father couldn't contain his anger anymore, certainly not when his child was talking about going into what was akin to a death sentence.
"A hundred people go into that tower every day damn and you never see them again! The capital throws prisoners in there just to save space on cells! Do you think you'll last longer than the knights the capital sends in there every year?! The ones who come back with their enchanted armors melted to their skin!? Those same bastards who come down and kick our asses when they're upset about their checks!? Worthy, the same men I tried to stand alongside, all those years ago!?"
Coward tried to be a knight, way back when. It was before he'd met Evangelica, well before their kids were born. Knights were strong, even without receiving a Reward from a tower. The groggily fellow knew enough about them by trying to join their ranks than his son, for certain. "Those men could fight crowds of people before they broke a sweat, and not even they've gotten further than the 5th Floor. You'll die, son! Do you understand me? You'll die!"
Retorting, "Well maybe I'd rather die trying to do something than keep eating shit all day! Look at Hope!" Worthy points at his sister, who has quieted down. This isn't the first time they've argued, but this is the first time the argument has gotten this intense. She shrinks a little as her brother and father clash words. If it came down to it, they might even end up clashing fists, but she hoped they didn't.
"Your sister isn't your responsibility!"
"Bullshit! Bull! Shit! You've been working so much that you don't even know shit about her other than she likes reading, dad! Did you know she wants to go to school!? Of course not, you're too busy working yourself to death! Oh! Did you know she was bleeding last week!? We had to go to Old Gram down the lane, asked her for help, and she asked: 'Why hasn't your mam taught you yet?' Do you know where our 'mam' is, pops? I fuckin' don't! You don't either! I'm tired of waiting around for somebody we know isn't coming back! My sister is a fucking genius and can't even go to school because we just can't make it! I'm digging through trash every day, hoping to find something that makes the next morning somewhat less unbearable!"
"...Dad, I'm tired." His voice finally broke.
Abruptly, the rant ends, the tears pouring down his face playing no part. He had nothing more to add.
"I don't want to be in this hopeless situation anymore. You tried to get us out of it. You lost. Mom tried to get us out of it. She lost… Please, just let me get a chance. Because, honestly, I don't think I can take much more of this. I don't want to become another one of Freight's men, running through the streets poking everybody to meet quota. If we don't do somethin', we're going to end up as corpses, 'Pa. Corpses."
The silence that follows is deafening.
No one spoke for several minutes, not even a peep from Hopeful's mouth.
When he finally spoke, Coward could only say: "Go to bed. I'll talk to you about it in the morning."
That told Worthy everything he needed to. His father didn't shut him down, yet he couldn't accept this immediately either. Regardless, the young boy knew what it meant.
Tomorrow, he'd begin his fateful climb… he would go challenge Aciago Tower.