Four rejections.
Four different companies.
Four different versions of, "We regret to inform you…"
Edward stared blankly at the ceiling of his tiny apartment, the dim fan clicking slowly above like some ancient clock counting down to the end of his already miserable twenties. Twenty-four years old. No degree. No friends. No prospects. Just rejection letters, instant noodles, and a heart that had stopped hoping long ago.
He hadn't even bothered changing out of his interview clothes. The cheap white shirt clung to his back with sweat, wrinkled and slightly yellowed under the armpits. His tie had loosened itself at some point, like even it had given up on pretending.
Then, his phone buzzed.
[Breaking News: A Tower Has Appeared in Central District — Authorities Baffled]
Edward blinked.
A tower? In Central District?
He sat up slowly and tapped the notification.
The photo was grainy, probably taken from some random person's phone, but the image was impossible to mistake: a colossal black tower piercing the clouds, sitting in the middle of the city where yesterday there had only been malls and parking lots. The news anchors called it "The Black Spire."
And people were gathering.
Curious and cautious.
Edward snorted.
"Probably a viral marketing stunt."
He put the phone down, leaned back, and let out a long breath. Outside, the world panicked over some sci-fi monument, but in here, nothing had changed. He was still a nobody.
Then the lights flickered.
And his ceiling—no, the sky—ripped open.
It happened so fast he didn't have time to scream. A brilliant blue circle of light opened in the air above him, humming with unearthly energy, and before he could move, his body lifted from the bed like a puppet with its strings yanked.
"What the—?!"
Then the world turned inside out.
He landed hard on cold stone, the impact punching the air from his lungs.
Pain flared through his shoulder as he rolled over and coughed violently. His vision swam. Something was buzzing in his ears. No, not buzzing. Whispering.
He blinked rapidly, trying to see.
A massive chamber stretched around him. Towering walls. Dim blue torches. Ancient writing etched across the floor beneath him in symbols that glowed faintly. All around, other people groaned and stirred—strangers, dozens of them. Young. Old. Students. Office workers. A kid with a backpack. A girl in a nurse uniform. All blinking in confusion, terrified.
A cold voice rang out from nowhere, echoing across the chamber:
[Welcome, Chosen. You have entered the First Floor of the Tower.]
Edward froze.
The others around him looked just as confused, murmuring in panic, some crying, some standing up and shouting.
"Where the hell are we?!"
"Is this a dream?!"
"Hey! Someone! Let us out!"
The voice continued, unaffected.
[You have been selected for Ascension. You will either climb... or perish.]
[Your objective: Survive.]
Edward's mouth went dry.
What the hell was this?
He looked up—there was no ceiling, only darkness that stretched forever upward. The only exit was a black stone gate sealed shut ahead of them. No windows. No way back.
People began running to the door, trying to pry it open.
Someone screamed.
The wall behind them split open—and something walked in.
It wasn't human.
Tall, skeletal, cloaked in black mist. Red eyes burned in its skull-like face, and in its long fingers, it held a scythe.
[Trial Initiation: Cull Round One.]
Edward felt a wet warmth run down his thigh.
He had just pissed himself.
The creature moved faster than anything Edward had ever seen.
One second, a man was shouting—next second, his head rolled across the floor. Blood sprayed in a wild arc, coating the stones. Panic exploded and people started screaming, scattering, running blindly. Another was sliced from shoulder to waist before he could take two steps.
Edward fell backward and scrambled behind a pillar, heart thudding in his throat.
"Oh god oh god oh god—"
More screams. More blood.
The scythe creature didn't run—it floated, an executioner in a sea of prey. It was methodical. Precise. It didn't chase, it hunted. Every few seconds, another scream cut short. Another thud. Another body.
He wanted to close his eyes.
He wanted to wake up.
But he couldn't.
Then, he saw her.
A girl, maybe his age, tripped and fell right in the monster's path.
And it raised its blade.
Edward didn't think.
He moved.
His legs burned, lungs screaming, but he launched himself forward and tackled her just as the blade came down. It missed by inches, slamming into the stone floor with a deafening clang.
The two of them hit the ground hard and rolled.
She gasped in shock.
"W-Why did you—?"
"No time!"
The creature turned toward them.
They ran.
Somehow, they made it to a dead corner of the room, hidden behind a broken column. Ricky collapsed, gasping, every inch of him trembling. His heart was pounding like a war drum. He could still hear the screams, but fewer now.
Too few.
The girl was staring at him, chest heaving.
"You saved me…"
"..."
She nodded slowly, still in shock. She had short black hair, pale skin, and dark eyes that looked like they'd seen things.
"I'm Kara."
"Edward."
He swallowed.
"What... is this place?"
"I don't know, but it feels like we are inside some sick game of death."
He couldn't argue with that.
Suddenly, the stone gate groaned open with a loud thoom.
Everyone still alive—only about ten of them—froze and turned toward the noise.
The voice returned.
[Phase One Complete. Survivors: 12.]
[Proceed to the next floor. You have 5 minutes.]
Kara helped him up. "We can't stay."
Ricky nodded numbly, eyes fixed on the door.
He didn't know what was beyond it. Didn't know why this was happening. But one thing was already clear.
This wasn't Earth anymore.
And if he didn't move—if he didn't fight—he'd end up like the others.