When Meyer opened his eyes, he saw people walking around him. Fragmented voices were echoing in his head. The moment he tried to lift his head, he was met with a high, iron mesh ceiling. Its height was beyond comprehension. He wanted to turn his head, but everything hurt. He took a deep breath. He tried to remember what had happened last—but there was nothing. Only fragments: his desire to kill Magnus, stealing the obsidian blades, and that trembling vendor.
As he turned his gaze from where he lay, he noticed the door opening slightly. On the descending stairs, a man in a white coat appeared—a doctor.
"Where am I?" he asked in fear.
The doctor walked slowly, eyes glinting behind his glasses.
"You're in the Tower."
"The Tower?" Meyer shouted, but it hurt his throat. The scent of the last gas he inhaled still lingered in his lungs. Was this the same tower he had tried to enter that day?
"Code 43 wants to see you. You've kept him waiting for quite a while," the doctor said, then pulled out the IV lines and cables attached to Meyer's arm.
Meyer realized he wasn't limping—his body felt whole. In the mirror across from him, he saw his own face: young-looking and of normal proportions. He was curious enough to ignore everything else. The doctor guided him through a corridor that resembled a dark cellar, leading upstairs.
Lights turned on one by one, making Meyer squint. Inside every frame on the walls, flames flickered in tiny fireplaces. Finally, they stopped in front of a massive iron door that looked cursed—like a portal to hell.
As soon as the doctor swiped his card, the door opened automatically.
Inside, a sharp moldy smell filled the room. Everything was in dark browns and greens, like the depths of a forest.
"We're here, sir," the doctor announced, stepping aside.
In the distance, on a raised platform, someone sat in a chair with their back turned.
Meyer could see the metal-plated shoulders. Silence reigned in the room. Then the figure's arm moved, touching something to the side. The chair rotated, like a judge before a trial. The doctor immediately stepped back. Meyer anxiously looked toward the light. The darkness seemed illuminated by glowing dust. After the doctor's rushed movements, the door closed, and Meyer was left alone with the mysterious figure.
"You kept me waiting," said a voice that echoed and grew louder from the chair.
Meyer instinctively fell to his knees. Every cell in his body screamed for submission. "Y-you must be Code 43."
"What a coincidence. I've been waiting a long time to see when the 64-year-old boy would wake up and enter the ring."
"The ring?" Meyer's voice trembled. "I-I..."
"Yes, the ring. After all, you killed my best man. Then you froze time. As if that wasn't enough, you robbed a vendor and nearly killed him, beat up Magnus, and left him drowning in uncertainty. And finally, you held a child hostage. I was curious—where does all that power inside you come from?"
Meyer knew he was in the presence of a watcher. He pulled his knees in tighter. His muscular abdomen heaved rapidly.
"Technically, you missed your second level chance—but I grew so fond of you that I brought you here myself. You're now on Level Two, and I've got ten fighters ready in the ring. Each of them is dying to take you on."
Code 43 pulled out a radio from his pocket and pressed a button. Then the gray concrete walls slid open, revealing vicious-looking men behind iron bars.
"Who are they?" Meyer asked fearfully.
Their faces were twisted, savage—like cannibals.
"They are the city's most dangerous criminals. I keep them in the dungeon, but that's not enough. I turn their power into a show. Tell me, Steve—what separates these men from the rest? Their monstrous strength or their unstoppable instincts? Which one?"
Meyer mumbled, unsure if he should answer. "Fear is the key to everything. Someone once whispered that to me."
"Recalling that shows you have a pleasant memory," said Code 43. He rested his ring-covered fingers under his chin. His eyes were sky-blue, his lashes long. His cheeks had contoured shadows, and his complexion was slightly bronzed. The bags under his eyes suggested a man who never slept.
"Why am I here?" Meyer stared at the bars.
"As punishment for your crimes, you are assigned to serve the Tower," said Code 43 with a thunderous voice.
At that moment, Meyer felt he was being judged for all his sins.
"The doctor will now take you to the ring. Who would you like to fight? Black Tiger? Or Hair Thief?"
Meyer didn't know who either of them was.
"Ah," said Code 43. "Of course you don't know them. But rest assured—you won't just get beaten. You'll be tortured too. But don't panic!" He raised a finger. "As long as you can defend yourself, nothing will happen to you!"
Code 43 pressed another button. The wall on the right split open. A circular platform emerged, surrounded by digital iron bars. It detached from Code 43's room and began to rise like an elevator. Meyer flinched at the sound of a door opening. The doctor bowed respectfully to Code 43 and said, "Let's go."
Meyer hesitated to follow. He didn't know where he was going.
Everything had become tangled.
"Come on," said the doctor again, this time with a firmer tone.
Meyer felt his feet move. "Can I take a weapon with me?"
"That's not possible," the doctor replied.
Meyer looked at Code 43 in desperation.
Code 43 raised his hand like a storm, causing objects to tremble. "Give him what he wants."
The doctor hesitated, saluted, and looked at Meyer. "What do you want?"
Without thinking, Meyer replied, "Three obsidian blades and a pair of obsidian glasses." The image of his former self flew before his eyes—like the shadow of a plane wing. His instincts flared up, and once again, he felt aroused by the presence of obsidian. He was curious about the ring. He clenched his jaw; adrenaline exploded in his veins. His heart skipped. Would he be the oppressed—or the oppressor?