Morning Rituals
The sun slanted lazily through the windows of Shirogane High's Class 2-B, casting long shadows across the scuffed wooden floor. The air smelled of chalk dust and the faint, lingering scent of breakfast from those who had rushed in at the last minute. A gentle hum of conversation filled the room—laughter at shared jokes, the rustle of notebooks, the squeak of sneakers against linoleum.
At the front, the class monitor, Hana Mizuno, adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat. "Alright, everyone! Quiet down for roll call." Her voice was firm but friendly, the kind of tone that carried over the din without being shrill.
Students shuffled into their seats, some still yawning, others already animatedly discussing last night's TV drama or the latest game. The teacher's desk was empty, a half-finished cup of coffee steaming gently—its owner presumably caught up in some last-minute staff meeting.
Ayato Kurosawa sat near the back, his dark eyes flicking over the room without interest. He was used to being overlooked, a shadow in the corner, a name rarely called unless absolutely necessary. He leaned his chin on his hand, watching the others with a detached curiosity, as if he were an observer rather than a participant.
Then, the clock struck 8:01.
The bell should have rung.
It did not.
Instead, the world shuddered.
The World Breaks
A low, groaning sound vibrated through the classroom, like the bones of the building itself were protesting. The laughter died mid-sentence. The chalk in Hana's hand snapped as she froze, eyes wide.
The windows, once filled with sunlight, darkened in an instant. Shadows crawled up the glass, swallowing the outside world. The fluorescent lights flickered, buzzed, and then—pop!—went out, plunging the room into near-darkness. Only the eerie glow of the digital clock on the wall remained, its numbers frozen: 8:01.
A collective gasp rose from the students. Someone screamed. Desks scraped against the floor as people jumped to their feet, knocking over chairs in their haste.
Ayato stayed seated. His heart pounded, but his face remained impassive. He had spent years perfecting the art of invisibility, of blending into the background. This was just another strange event in a life full of them.
A strange, metallic voice echoed through the room, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
[You have entered The Tower of Karma. Survival required. Class Selection in progress…]
The words hung in the air, shimmering like heat haze. A system prompt—impossible, but undeniably real—flashed before each student's eyes, glowing red as blood against the darkness.
Chaos erupted. Students shouted, some crying, others demanding answers. A few tried to call their parents, but their phones were dead—no signal, no power, just black screens.
Ayato watched, silent, as the room itself began to change. The desks, once smooth and modern, twisted and warped, their surfaces cracking and splitting as moss and vines burst through. The chalkboard, once a dull green, darkened and then—impossibly—began to bleed, thick red rivulets trickling down its surface.
The air grew thick with the scent of earth and iron. The temperature dropped, sending shivers down spines.
Hana, ever the leader, tried to rally the class. "Everyone, stay calm! We need to stick together!" Her voice trembled, but she stood tall, hands clenched at her sides.
The system's voice returned, calm and impersonal.
[Your soul has been scanned. Your mask torn away. Your Role has been chosen.]
A column of light enveloped each student, one by one. Some screamed as the light touched them, others gasped in wonder or fear. Ayato felt a strange warmth spread through his body, a tingling sensation that started at his fingertips and raced up his arms.
He looked down at his hands. Shadows seemed to cling to his skin, swirling and shifting like living things. The system's voice spoke directly to him:
[Warden of Shadows – For those who watch from behind, and strike only when unseen.]
A rush of information flooded his mind—skills, stats, a sense of purpose he had never felt before. Silent Step. Backstab. Fade into Shadows. He could feel them, waiting at the edge of his consciousness, ready to be used.
Around him, his classmates were undergoing similar transformations. Hana, bathed in golden light, was declared the Bastion of Light—her role clear in the way she instinctively moved to protect the others. The class jock, Ren, roared as he became the Crimson Berserker, muscles bulging with newfound power. The quiet bookworm, Saki, blinked in surprise as she was named the Archivist of the Forgotten, a glowing tome appearing in her hands.
The room was alive with magic and fear, a cacophony of voices and light.
The transformation complete, the class took stock of their new reality. The classroom was gone, replaced by a stone chamber, its walls covered in moss and strange, glowing runes. The door to the hallway had vanished, replaced by a heavy, iron-bound portal.
A nervous first-year, Takashi, couldn't take it anymore. With a strangled cry, he bolted for the door, hands outstretched. "I'm getting out of here!"
Before anyone could stop him, he threw open the door—and was met with a pair of glowing red eyes in the darkness beyond.
A monstrous shape lunged, all teeth and claws. Takashi screamed, but it was cut short as the creature dragged him into the shadows. The sound of tearing, of wet crunching, echoed through the chamber. Then silence.
The door slammed shut.
The class stood frozen, horror written on every face. Hana's hands flew to her mouth. Ren's fists clenched. Saki's book trembled in her grasp.
Ayato felt a cold knot form in his stomach. He had never liked Takashi much—the kid was loud and obnoxious—but no one deserved that.
The system's voice returned, calm and final.
[Floor One Activated. Kill all monsters. Or be consumed.]
The reality of their situation settled over the class like a shroud. They were trapped in a dungeon, armed with strange powers, and the only way out was forward—through blood and battle.
Hana took a deep breath and stepped forward. "We have to work together. If we panic, we'll die. Everyone, gather around. We need to figure out our next move."
Ren nodded, flexing his hands. "I'm ready to fight. Just point me at the enemy."
Saki flipped through her book, her eyes scanning the pages. "There's information here… about the dungeon, about our roles. We need to understand what we're dealing with."
Ayato remained silent, but he was listening. He felt the shadows around him, waiting to be called. He had always been the one who watched, who stayed out of the way. Now, it seemed, that was his strength.
The system had called him the Warden of Shadows. He would be the unseen protector, the knife in the dark.
He glanced around the room, at the faces of his classmates—friends, rivals, strangers. They were all in this together, for better or worse.
The first blood had been spilled. The trial had begun.
(End of Chapter 1)