Liam woke with a ragged gasp.
His body still felt shattered, but the all-consuming pain that had once dominated his nerves had dulled into a tolerable ache. He remained seated in the corner of the stone chamber, his back against the cold, rough wall. The dim glow from the tower's walls illuminated the now-drying corpses of the goblins.
"...How long was I out?"
He scanned the area. No footsteps. No rustling. No new stench of decay signaling another monster's approach.
It was utterly silent.
The first floor... was truly empty.
Liam slowly rose to his feet. His left leg still trembled. The wound on his right arm felt stiff but no longer bled. He had half-expected an ambush while he was vulnerable—yet nothing had come. As if, after surviving the first wave, all the beasts had simply vanished.
Or perhaps...
"They only appeared to test me..."
The system. The Tower of Trials. All of this felt like a cruel game overseen by some unseen entity. If the first floor was merely an introductory trial, then perhaps those monsters had been conjured for one purpose: to judge his worthiness.
And now that he had passed, this floor was nothing more than an empty husk—a hollow stage littered with grim memories.
Liam stepped carefully, avoiding the dried bloodstains, and looked upward. The tower's ceiling was too high to see clearly. But at the far end of the corridor, a glowing symbol had appeared—a pale blue vortex. A portal.
"...Floor 2."
His body wasn't fully recovered. His mind might not be ready for what awaited above. But one thing was certain:
There was no way back.
Not just because the tower offered no exit. But because the outside world no longer welcomed him.
The betrayal was still fresh in his memory.
Their shouts. The icy glares that cut deeper than any blade. The agony of being thrown from the cliff into the abyss. He should have died then.
Yet when he opened his eyes, the world around him had changed.
No forest. No city. No ordinary dungeon.
This place.
A tower that swallowed the sky. Endless stone walls stretching upward. An atmosphere that choked his breath and weighed on his soul.
The Tower of Trials.
A place he didn't understand. How had he gotten here? Was this some separate dimension? Had his death in the real world dragged him into this hell? Or... was this a trial for the "abandoned"?
No answers came.
But one thing was certain: this was no dream. The pain was too real. The blood, the wounds, the fear—all of it was too vivid to be an illusion.
Liam clenched his fist.
"If I can't go back..."
Then he would move forward.
With unsteady steps, Liam approached the light.
This tower held many mysteries. But one by one, he would conquer them. If the outside world had cast him aside... then this world would become his proving ground.
"Look at me now... all of you who threw me away..."
Their faces flashed in his mind. Those he once called "comrades." Those who smiled as they drove the dagger into his back.
That pain hadn't healed.
But now, it had become an ember.
And that ember... would burn the world.
---
"There's no point in me staying on Floor 1 any longer."
Liam's voice was soft, almost a murmur, but each word carried resolve. No hesitation remained in his eyes—only a cold determination forged from pain and suffering.
He walked slowly, ascending the spiraling stone steps. Each step felt heavy, not from physical exhaustion, but from the psychological pressure hanging in the air. This tower wasn't just a physical structure—it felt like a living thing, watching, testing, judging.
Step by step, the atmosphere shifted. The sounds from the floor below faded. The scent of blood and death gave way to... emptiness. Silence.
Until finally, Liam stood before a massive door at the top of the staircase.
Tall. Iron-black. Covered in unfamiliar engravings that glowed faintly with pale blue light. At its center was an indentation—the shape of a human hand, as if waiting for someone to press against it.
And as Liam approached—
DING
That familiar sound returned. The voice of the system that had now become part of his world.
A translucent screen floated before him.
---
[Tower of Trials – Next Floor Confirmation]
Will 'Player' Liam Crossbell proceed to Floor 2?
Warning: Each floor operates under different laws, worlds, and challenges.
Return is not possible.
[YES] / [NO]
---
Liam stared at the screen for a moment. There was no doubt in his mind. He had passed the point of no return long ago. His old life had been stolen from him. All that remained... was to move forward.
He raised his hand and touched the word.
[YES]
Instantly, the iron door trembled. The engravings on its surface flared brightly, and the door began to creak open. But instead of darkness or another corridor, what greeted him was—
Light. Blinding. Overwhelming.
"...!"
Liam shut his eyes as the light swallowed him whole, and in an instant—
The world around him changed.
No more stone. No more bloodstains or damp walls.
He stood in the middle of an endless wheat field.
A gentle breeze tousled his black hair. A bright blue sky stretched overhead, dotted with slow-moving white clouds. Warm sunlight bathed his skin. The rustling of wheat stalks... even the fresh scent of earth.
This...
"...Was I transported to another world?"
Liam looked around in disbelief.
This was too different. Too peaceful. Too alive.
There was no sign that this was part of the Tower of Trials.
Yet the system couldn't be wrong.
He was on Floor 2.
And more surprisingly—his pain... was gone.
He lifted his hands. The wounds that had covered his body—bruises, gashes, punctures—all had vanished. His torn, bloodstained clothes were now clean. Even his breathing felt lighter, as if he had just woken from a long sleep, not a brutal battle.
"Fully healed..."
Was this a reward for ascending?
Or was it just... the prelude to a more elaborate trap?
The system never explained anything. It only gave choices, and Liam had to bear the consequences.
Suddenly, a creaking sound came from behind.
Liam turned—and saw that the iron door he had stepped through was gone. No trace. No walls. Just an endless expanse of golden wheat.
His heart beat steadily.
"No way back..."
He gripped his sword—which now hung at his waist in a new leather sheath, though he didn't remember it changing. Even its quality seemed improved from the one he had used before. As if all his belongings had been adjusted for the new floor.
Everything had been reset—but not from scratch. From the next checkpoint.
A new beginning.
Yet amid this false peace... Liam knew one thing:
This was only the surface.
Whatever this place was, the Tower of Trials wouldn't just let him stroll through flower gardens.
Floor 2—different. A wider world. More real. More deadly.
He began walking through the field. His steps were calm but wary. Every whisper of wind, every rustle of grass, every faint shadow in the distance didn't escape his notice.
Until finally—
DING
---
[Floor 2 – Exploration Phase Begins]
Objective: Locate the Trial Gate.
Details: This floor simulates an open world. Enemies blend into the environment. Identify, adapt, and survive.
Bonus: The system will adjust challenges based on the player's moral choices and actions.
---
"...Blend into the environment?"
That meant—the enemies might not be monsters.
They could be things that looked human.
Or worse—things that pretended to be human.
Silent, Liam closed his eyes briefly, steadying his breath.
Floor 2... wasn't just a test of strength.
It was a test of wit, heart, and the limits of humanity.
And he would have to prepare himself—to lose everything all over again.
---
Liam's footsteps made faint sounds amidst the softly rustling wheat.
The wind continued to blow gently, swaying the golden stalks as if the entire field was breathing in a slow rhythm. The blue sky stretched flawlessly above, adorned with drifting white clouds. At a glance, this place looked like a painting. Peaceful. Beautiful.
Yet it was that too-perfect peace that put Liam on edge.
Every step was measured, his ears catching every sound, his eyes tracking even the slightest movement among the waist-high wheat.
Finally, after walking for over an hour in tense silence, Liam stopped.
In the distance—just visible through a gap in the sloping field—he saw something.
The silhouettes of rooftops.
Thin smoke rising from chimneys. Simple wooden buildings, a wooden fence enclosing a small area, and a dirt path marked by cart tracks.
"...A village?"
Liam narrowed his eyes.
It was far, but the shapes and faint activity were unmistakable: people walking slowly, carrying baskets, a few children running between buildings, and a large animal—perhaps a cow—being led by an elderly man.
His pulse quickened.
This was nothing like the first floor. No NPCs, no artificial structures. Everything felt... real.
But the system had warned him:
"Enemies blend into the environment."
Were they truly human?
Was this some kind of simulation designed to trap him?
Or... was it an opportunity to gather information?
Liam tightened his grip on his sword—not drawing it, but ready.
He had to be careful. One wrong move could mean death—not from strength, but from carelessness.
"...If this is a test, then I'll play it my way."
He began descending the wheat-covered hill, steps slow but deliberate. The wind carried new scents—baking bread, woodsmoke, and life.
The closer he got, the more details emerged.
A wooden sign stood at the village entrance, with words carved in a language that—somehow—Liam could read.
[Eiden Village]
[Population: 147]
A small number was etched beneath, dynamic—as if updated in real time.
"The population... is tracked?"
The system counted the villagers?
Were they truly alive?
Or... did the system treat them like game statistics?
But before Liam could sink deeper into thought, a child from the village spotted him.
"Hey! A stranger's coming!!"
The voice was loud and shrill. Soon, villagers began emerging from their homes, watching as Liam approached from the fields.
Some adults looked wary. A young man held a pitchfork defensively. But no one attacked. No one drove him away.
Meanwhile, the children kept running around, staring at Liam with open curiosity.
Liam stopped right at the village entrance.
He studied them. They studied him back.
Tired faces, simple clothes that spoke of a hard rural life—yet they seemed alive. Not like puppets of the system.
Until an elderly man stepped forward, leaning on a wooden staff, wearing a long coat of coarse fur. His eyes were wrinkled but sharp.
"...You from outside?" he asked.
Liam nodded slowly.
"I... just arrived."
The old man stared at him for a long moment—so long it felt like he was reading Liam's entire mind through his gaze.
"...Welcome to Eiden. We rarely get travelers, especially from the east..."
He pointed toward the wheat field Liam had come from.
"…There's usually… no one there."
Liam held his breath.
Once again, the question echoed in his mind:
Is this really a village?
Or is this just the next stage… a new set, where the roles and scripts are neatly arranged by something unseen?
"I'm Alden, the village chief," the old man said, not turning around. "We rarely have visitors from the eastern fields. There's no path from that direction."
Liam didn't respond. His eyes swept across his surroundings, cataloguing every detail. Everything looked real—too real. But the system had already warned him: this was the second floor of the Tower of Trials. This world was a test, not reality.
And yet… the people here seemed completely unaware of that.
Alden finally stopped in front of a building slightly larger than the rest. A wooden sign hung above the door, reading: Village Hall.
"Come in," Alden said. "We'll talk inside."
Once seated in the clean but modest room, Alden poured a cup of warm tea from a clay teapot.
"I'd like to know where you came from, and what brings you to Eiden."
Liam looked at the man. There was no deceit in his eyes. His face was weathered by age and labor, not by lies. His voice was sincere, not an act.
Still, Liam remained alert.
"I… came from somewhere far away. I don't even know exactly how I got here."
Alden frowned. "Stranded, then? You're alone?"
Liam gave a slow nod. "Alone."
"Strange. We have guards at the northern and western borders. But from the east… people rarely come. That field… it has no end."
Of course it doesn't, Liam thought. It's not a normal field. It's part of the system.
He took a sip of the tea. Warm. Bitter. But oddly comforting. A taste too perfect for an illusion… yet not proof this world was real either.
"Have you ever heard of… the Tower?" he asked.
Alden raised an eyebrow.
"The Tower?"
"Yes. The Tower of Trials."
Alden slowly shook his head, clearly puzzled.
"No. We don't have anything like that around here. Maybe in some distant kingdom… but Eiden's a small village. We live off wheat, livestock, and river water from the north."
Liam studied his face. No trace of dishonesty.
So they really don't know... They're part of the system, yet they live as if this world is truly theirs.
Or worse… they're actually alive.
"Have any other outsiders come through here?" Liam asked.
Alden nodded slowly. "A few wanderers now and then. But none like you. Your clothes, your weapon… the way you speak. Like a soldier, but also… like someone who doesn't believe this place is real."
Liam lowered his gaze. "Maybe I don't."
The village chief let out a quiet sigh.
"I don't know where you're from, but if you need a place to rest, go to Miriam's inn. She lives at the northern edge of the village."
Alden stood and turned away.
"Eiden welcomes guests… as long as they don't bring trouble."
Liam stood as well, giving a brief nod before heading out.
But as he stepped out of the village hall, one thought etched itself deep into his mind:
This place feels real to them. But not to me.
And perhaps… that's what makes this second floor so dangerous.
The sky was beginning to change color—soft blue melting into golden orange, casting long shadows from the wooden houses of Eiden. Liam stepped into the quiet street, the peacefulness of the village pressing in all around him. Too peaceful for a place meant to test him.
From the corner of the road, a gentle voice called out.
"Are you the one who came from the fields?"
Liam turned to see a small girl with light brown hair, wearing a simple dress. She carried a woven basket filled with wildflowers and a few vegetables.
"I… yeah. I just arrived," Liam replied. His gaze remained cautious, but not unfriendly.
"I'm Elia," the girl said with a smile. "If you'd like, I can show you the way to Grandma Miriam's. She runs the inn up north. It's getting late."
Liam gave a small nod. "Thank you."
They began walking side by side. The dirt road that split through the quiet village felt warm beneath their feet. The golden light of dusk reflected softly off the rooftops and leaves.
"Do you see many strangers in this village?" Liam asked, eyes forward.
Elia shook her head. "Not really. Maybe two or three times in my life."
"Have you ever heard of something called… the Tower?"
Elia furrowed her brow. "The Tower? You mean, like… a tall building?"
Liam grunted in response and changed the subject.
"What about outside the village? Do you know what's beyond?"
"Umm…" Elia looked like she was thinking hard. "There are other towns. My dad told me stories. But we've never been. He says they're far… and dangerous."
Of course, Liam thought. This world isn't real. But the system's built a backstory detailed enough to make everything feel normal to them.
Every word Elia spoke, every look on her face—none of it seemed like a lie. To her, this wasn't a simulation. It was home.
"Does anything… strange ever happen at night?" Liam asked softly.
The question made Elia fall quiet for a moment.
"There are… sounds. From the fields. Sometimes shadows move behind the trees," she whispered. "But they've never hurt anyone. Dad says it's just animals."
Liam narrowed his eyes.
Not animals, he thought. It's part of the system. A trigger. Something that marks the beginning of the trial. Whether it's time, place, or condition… something will activate it.
Soon, they arrived at a two-story wooden building. A small sign hung above the door: Miriam's Inn.
"This is the place," Elia said with a cheerful smile. "Grandma Miriam's really nice."
Liam looked up at the fading twilight.
"Thank you, Elia."
The girl turned to leave, but paused for a moment.
"Oh, and… don't get too close to the fields at night," she added softly. "Sometimes… something watches."
Then she ran off down the main road, leaving Liam alone at the door of the inn, a creeping unease curling at the edges of his thoughts.
Liam pushed open the wooden door slowly. A small bell above chimed gently, breaking the silence of the settling evening in Eiden. The scent of aged timber, baked bread, and faint spices filled the air, wrapping around him like a quiet embrace—a warmth so genuine, it almost made him forget he was in the Tower of Trials.
Behind the simple counter along the left wall stood a middle-aged woman. Her greying hair was loosely tied back, and the lines on her face spoke more of laughter and worry than of malice.
Her eyes landed on Liam. But there was no fear or suspicion in them. Only curiosity, quickly softened by hospitality.
"Oh! You must be the one Elia mentioned," she said, removing the apron she wore. Her voice was deep but kind. "Welcome to Miriam's Inn. I own the place… and run it all myself."
Liam gave her a nod. "Thank you. I just need a place to rest for the night."
"Of course, of course. You look… exhausted." She glanced at his clothes, still marked with signs of battle and travel. "Your room's on the second floor, end of the hall to the left. Clean bed, warm water in the basin… and if you're hungry, we still have some potato stew in the kitchen."
Liam hesitated. This world might be fabricated, but the hunger he felt… was very real. He realized the system had created an all-encompassing reality—not just to test his strength, but his mind. Giving him comfort. Giving him peace. Just enough to lower his guard.
But he would not be fooled.
"Thank you, Miss Miriam. I'll rest for a bit."
The woman smiled warmly. "Just call me Miriam, dear. Everyone here's like family."
Those words made Liam pause.
Family, huh? In a world that doesn't even exist?
He climbed the creaky wooden stairs, following her directions. The corridor on the second floor was warm and quiet. Lanterns hanging on the walls cast slow-dancing shadows across the old wood.
At the last door on the left, he turned the knob.
The room was simple. A bed with clean white sheets, a small window facing the fields now veiled in night's mist, and a tiny desk with a basin and a mirror above it.
He placed his sword by the wall and sat on the edge of the bed.
Silence wrapped around him.
But deep within, he knew—the Tower of Trials would not let
him rest for long.
And this world, no matter how warm or peaceful it seemed,
was still a stage.
A stage for a trial that had not yet begun.
Not yet.