"Yes," he gasped
As Reagan spoke the word, a series of cold, mechanical prompts flickered across his vision, confirming the majority vote of a billion terrified souls. In an instant, his body dissolved into a swirl of blue light.
The wolf's jaws snapped shut a microsecond too late, splintering the trunk of the tree where his head had been resting moments before.
Then, there was only darkness.
When Reagan finally opened his eyes, the smell of blood and hospital antiseptic was gone. Instead, his lungs filled with the scent of damp earth and fresh, dew - covered grass. He was lying in a realm that seemed to stretch infinitely - a vast, rolling plain of green under a sky that didn't look quite natural.
Around him, thousands of people began to manifest in flashes of light. These weren't billions of players from across the globe, but the thousands designated to his specific geographic region.
[HP REMAINING: 3/10 | STATE: NEAR DEATH]
[RECOVERY RECOMMENDED]
The system's warning blinked in the corner of his eye. Strangely, the agonizing fire in his ribs had dulled to a manageable throb. It felt like a small mercy - a 'welcome gift' from the Tower to ensure its new toys didn't break before the game truly began. He looked around at the crowd; he wasn't the only one in bad shape. Many had been pulled from hospital beds or accidents, their pale faces reflecting the surreal peace of this new dimension.
"What is this place?" someone whispered
"The air... it is so clean," another added.
Reagan took a breath. Having growing up in the smog and noise of the city, the purity of the air was almost intoxicating. But the peace was short lived. A sudden, sharp scent of strawberries cut through the smell of the grass.
Reagan turned his head. A girl was walking towards him, and for a moment, he forgot how to breath. She was striking - long, glossy white hair that flowed over her shoulders, pale skin, and a presence that seemed to command the space around her.
"Hi," she said, her voice soft but clear.
Reagan stared, momentarily paralyzed by her beauty.
"Hi," she repeated, waving a hand in front of his face to snap him out of it.
"Oh... hi," Reagan stammered, his face heating up.
"Are you alright?" She asked, her brow furrowed in concern. "You've been wheezing since the moment we arrived."
Reagan blinked.
' She heard that?' From several yards away, through the noise of thousands of people? Her senses were unnervingly sharp.
"It's nothing I can't handle," he said, trying to steady his voice.
"I see. My name is Valeria. Valeria Pottersmith," she said, extending a hand.
The name hit Reagan like a physical blow. The Pottersmiths were architects of the modern world, a family that had revolutionized robotics and climbed to the top of the global elite in just twenty years. There were even rumors they were travelers from the future, so advanced was their tech.
"Reagen. Reagan Greywoods," he replied, shaking her hand.
Their introduction was cut short as a massive screen flickered to life in the sky. The rabbit from before appeared on the broadcast, looking bored and impatient. They are known as Curators. They are in charge of managing the towers and giving out quests.
"Good morning, or whatever time it may be." the creature said. "We're behind schedule, so let's skip the pleasantries."
"Hey!" a man in his late twenties shouted from the crowd, stepping forward with a puffed out chest. "Who do you think you are, dragging us away from our homes? You better send us back before the government gets involved."
A ripple of agreement went through the crowd. Angry shouts began to rise, their turning into desperate, noisy riot.
Splatter.
Without a word, the man who had started the shouting simply... disappeared. One moment he was there; the next, he was a cloud of red mist and bone fragments. The people standing near him were instantly drenched in crimson, the metallic smell of blood masking the strawberries and grass.
The riot died instantly. The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating.
"So noisy," the Curator snapped, veins bulging on his forehead. "Do you think this is a game? You are in my house now and you have to follow my rules. The reality you knew is long dead, face the new one."
Reagan felt a chill. He looked at the blood on the grass and realized his guilt was a luxury he couldn't afford anymore. If he wanted to see his siblings and his mother again, he had to survive.
"As I was saying, " the Curator continued, his tone returning to a terrifying calm tone. "This Tower has a total of 100 floors. One month per floor. If you fail, well ... I'll leave it to your imagination. Also, time in here is different. One month in the real world is one year inside the Tower."
A year? The thought gave the crowd a glimmer of hope. Surely a year was enough time to train, to plan, to win?
"Don't get ahead of yourselves," the Curator sneered.
"Because you were so slow to enter, there is a penalty for your hesitation. One Year is far too much time for a single quest. Let's speed things up."
A new window popped up in front of every player
[SUB-QUEST: DEFEAT THE ENEMIES]
• GOBLINS: 0/10
• LYCAN WOLVES: 0/10
• MUTATED ANTS: 0/10
TIME LIMIT: 10 MINUTES
REWARD: 300 G COINS
Panic flared again, but this time it was quiet. A list of basic weapons appeared:
[RUSTY OLD SWORD]
[RANK: E]
[ATK DAMAGE: +2]
[RUSTY OLD HALBERD]
[RANK: E]
[ATK DAMAGE: +3]
[OLD BOW AND ARROWS]
[RANK: E]
[ATK DAMAGE: +2]
Reagan looked at his options. His arm was still dislocated and his ribs were a mess. A bow required two steady hands; a halberd was too heavy for his current state. He chose the sword. It was light, and it was the only thing he could reasonably swing.
"A sword?" Valeria asked, looking at the weapon as it materialized in his hand. "You're going to fight them head on in that condition?"
"It's the only thing I can use," Reagan said, his grip tightening on the hilt. He noticed she had chosen the bow. "You have a good eye?"
"Better than most," she replied, her gaze shifting to the horizon.
[SUB-QUEST BEGINNING IN: 5...4...3...2...1...]
Jagged, crimson rifts tore open in the air. The monsters, goblins, wolves and ants began to pour out onto the green field.
"Let the fun begin," the Curator whispered as the screen went black.