"May the blessings of the Sacred Forest guide you."

  Vallen Raenhir placed a hand on each of our shoulders, one by one. Her touch was steady, but her deep brown eyes shimmered with unspoken worry.

  “Remember our rule,” she said softly.

  “Don’t die,” we replied in unison.

  “Go,” she said, stepping back as a Royal Guard motioned for her to move aside. “I’ll be waiting for you in the city.”

  No one spoke after that. Even Callen, who usually couldn’t shut up if his life depended on it, went completely silent.

  At the base of the Tower stood dozens of massive iron doors, each adorned with symbols of elemental power. They loomed before us like the jaws of some ancient beast, ready to devour the brave or the foolish who dared step through. Every path leading to the doors was guarded by armored Royal Guards, their polished weapons glinting under the light.

  Above each entrance, an inscription had been carved in glowing runes: “Only the strongest may ascend. The trials will test your mind, body, and soul.”

  At exactly eleven-thirty, a great bell rang from somewhere near the Tower. The sound rippled through the air, and then, without a single hand touching them, the doors began to open. Darkness spilled out, thick and heavy, revealing nothing beyond.

  We joined the tide of adventurers pressing forward. The crowd moved like a living wave, each step filled with nervous energy. Everyone knew the doors would close again at noon, sealing latecomers out for good.

  As my foot crossed the threshold into that dark void, a familiar yet unsettling sensation washed over me. It was the same feeling as the Andrheus Rift, a tugging in my chest as if space itself were being folded and twisted around us. This wasn’t a doorway. It was a warp point.

  A passage into something cruel. Something real.

  And then, in an instant, it was over.

  The world shifted. Light returned.

  Somehow, all the adventurers who entered, no matter which door or when, appeared here at the same time, scattered across what was called the Safe Zone at the heart of the first floor. The exact spot depended on which door and moment they had passed through.

  So… this is the first floor of the Tower.

  What I had seen in the game didn’t come close to this. The scale was overwhelming, impossibly vast, alive, and cold. The air bit into my skin like invisible knives.

  “Is that… real sky?” I murmured, looking up. Instead of a ceiling, a vast, starless expanse stretched endlessly above us, dark and deep as night.

  The Tower wasn’t a building in the ordinary sense. It was a world unto itself, a boundless realm shaped by magic and will. It had its own sky, its own atmosphere, its own laws that bent reality. It was beautiful and terrifying.

  “Incredible,” Sable whispered beside me. “But also unsettling.”

  She wasn’t wrong. The others shifted nervously, glancing around at the strange horizon.

  “Ugh…” Pica muttered, her voice shaky. “It’s freezing.”

  “Yeah, I feel it too,” Alwen said, pulling a robe from his pouch. His breath fogged in the icy air.

  “Don’t forget to set the Lunaris,” I reminded them as I adjusted my clock device.

  “Monsters can’t enter the Safe Zone, right?” Pica asked, eyes darting toward the shadows beyond the boundary.

  “They can’t,” Alwen replied quickly. “Besides, look around. There are plenty of people here, including them.” He nodded toward a group of Royal Guards patrolling the perimeter, keeping order among the newly arrived adventurers.

  “We’re heading toward the Deepnest Tunnel. How about you?” Alton asked, glancing at me.

  Of course. That’s the easiest path, filled with lots of first-timers.

  “We’re taking the opposite route. East,” I said firmly.

  Alton’s expression faltered. “Are you sure? That area’s too dangerous for beginners.”

  “Yes, it is,” I said, meeting his gaze. “But that’s exactly where we needed to go.”

  The wind howled faintly in that direction, as if the Tower itself had heard our choice.

  ***

  It had been an hour since we set foot on this narrow, winding trail. Instead of taking the main road, I had deliberately chosen an alternate route through the Gnashfang Warrens, a treacherous, half-forgotten path snaking between cliffs and thorn-choked undergrowth.

  “Are you sure about this?” Pica whispered again, her voice quivering just enough to test my patience.

  “Yes,” I muttered back. “During daylight hours, this route has the fewest monsters in the entire Redridge Range region.”

  The air here felt different, thicker and heavier. The mountains loomed crimson in the sun, their peaks shrouded in ghostly mist. The wind swept through the ravine carrying the scent of damp earth, smoldering wood, and something else… something old, like decay buried deep beneath the stone. Even the light seemed dimmer, swallowed by the red haze clinging to the cliffs.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  We trudged on in silence for another half hour before reaching a narrow rock face, cracked just wide enough for a person to slip through.

  “Once we’re inside, stay close to me,” I said, lowering my voice. “And don’t touch anything.”

  Pica swallowed hard. “C-can I stay outside?”

  I didn’t answer. I was already starting to regret bringing her along.

  Alwen sighed quietly. “We’ve been through this, Pica.”

  I ducked into the crack first, the stone scraping my shoulders as I turned sideways to squeeze through. Pica and Alwen followed close behind. The air grew colder with each step, damp and heavy with the metallic tang of minerals and something faintly... wrong.

  By the time water began pooling at our ankles, the narrow gap widened into a vast underground cavern.

  “Watch your head,” I warned. Though the tunnel had opened up, the ceiling hung low enough to make us hunch.

  “No one would ever guess something like this existed behind that little crack,” Alwen murmured, his voice echoing faintly.

  The cavern was alive with color. Dozens of small chambers branched from the main tunnel, each one pulsing with its own eerie light, some gold, others green, violet, or crimson. The colors shimmered across the wet stone as if the cave itself were breathing.

  “Follow me,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

  Each chamber was a gamble. Some hid treasure, others death. And every Tower Cycle, the contents shifted, rerolled like dice in a game no one fully understood.

  But I wasn’t completely clueless.

  Counting the chambers as we passed, I watched for the one that matched my memory. Then I saw it, a faint golden glow spilling from the third chamber on the left.

  “There,” I said quietly.

  “Before we go in,” Alwen whispered, “mind explaining again what this place really is?”

  “It’s a special zone,” I said. “Defeat the monster, descend deeper. The lower you go, the stronger they get, and the better the rewards.”

  “And the way out?” Pica asked nervously.

  “There’s a checkpoint every ten levels,” I said. “Guarded by something meaner than the rest. You can leave there, if you make it that far.”

  Alwen smirked. “Sounds like a challenge. Let’s see what’s waiting.”

  We stepped into the golden chamber. It was small, circular, and empty. The light emanated from nowhere and everywhere, soft at first but growing brighter by the second.

  “Now what?” Pica asked, frowning.

  “Just wait,” I said. “And don’t move.”

  The glow intensified, swallowing the walls. The air trembled, vibrating through my bones. Then came the whisper, a soundless hum that echoed inside my skull.

  “What’s happening?” Pica shouted, covering her ears.

  The light exploded. For a brief, blinding moment, it felt as if the world itself had been torn apart.

  Then silence.

  When the light faded, the cavern was gone. The air smelled sterile and cold. The floor beneath us was smooth like glass, the walls sealed in seamless stone. Before us stood a massive red door, its surface engraved with a single glowing number: 1.

  The same door shown in the Atlas of Forgotten Door.

  Alwen let out a slow breath. “That doesn’t feel like any door I’ve seen.”

  I smiled faintly, though my heart was pounding. “Welcome to the Descent of Despair.”

  ***

  We spent a few minutes reviewing our strategy before moving toward the door.

  I reached out and pressed my hand against the cold surface.

  The moment my fingers brushed it, the door yawned open with a thunderous crack, as if it had been waiting for me.

  I hesitated for half a heartbeat, then stepped through.

  [High Willpower detected. Special Event triggered: Challenge 1 initiated]

  The chamber beyond was dimly lit, the air so thick with haze I could barely see. I waited for Alwen and Pica to follow… but they never did.

  When I turned around, the entrance was gone, sealed behind a shimmering barrier of light.

  For a moment, I just stared, heartbeat pounding.

  What the hell?

  I called out their names, but no one answered. Only the faint hum of the barrier echoed back at me.

  Standing still was suicide. I moved forward.

  Swoosh!

  A sharp whistle tore through the air. Instinct kicked in before reason could. I dropped low, heart hammering, as something sliced past my ear. Pain flared, hot and bright.

  When I reached up, my fingers came away wet with blood.

  It was real.

  A tremor ran through me, raw fear clawing its way into my chest. This wasn’t like the Moonveil Stag. Or the Bramblehog.

  This time, there was no escape, no one to help.

  Only me. And death, if I hesitated.

  I steadied my breathing, lowering my stance. The haze shifted in the distance. Then came the sound.

  An awful, broken cackle.

  High-pitched. Inhuman.

  Gnoll Archer.

  The first shot wasn't a warning. It was a greeting.

  And the next one would hardly miss.

  Gnolls were feral, sadistic raiders, standing on two legs like twisted, hunched beasts. With wiry, hyena-like frames and rows of jagged teeth, they didn’t hunt to survive. They hunted for the pleasure of the kill.

  This one spat another volley, bone-white shards forming in its mouth and launching like arrows.

  Each was slick with venom potent enough to take down small prey in seconds.

  Already, I could feel the numbness spreading from my ear down my shoulder. My breathing hitched.

  I clenched my jaw. “Not today.”

  [Rejuvenation cast]

  A soft green light pulsed over my skin, warm and cleansing. The venom’s grip faltered, fading before it could take hold. My wounds tingled, knitting slowly back together.

  The moment the spell settled, I countered. Mana surged through my staff as a concentrated burst shot toward the shadows.

  The blast connected. The Gnoll staggered but didn’t fall.

  It snarled, teeth flashing, eyes glowing a sickly yellow, then unleashed another storm of bone needles.

  “Stubborn beast,” I hissed, diving behind a broken pillar.

  I struck, rolled, healed, and struck again. It was a deadly rhythm, a dance of survival in a space where even one mistake meant the end.

  Every spell drained me faster than I could recover.

  Minutes blurred together.

  When I finally paused to breathe, my arms trembled and sweat dripped down my chin. My Mana reserves were running dangerously low, maybe a quarter left.

  Tsk. I need to finish this.

  Unlike other classes, druids couldn’t rely on potions. Our Mana wasn’t a resource, it was a living extension of natural energy, impossible to refill artificially.

  Which meant one thing: no more Rejuvenation.

  I peeked out from cover. The Gnoll had circled, moving closer. Its eyes glowed like molten coins in the dark.

  One more mistake, and the next needle wouldn’t just graze me. It would end me.

  Vallen’s words echoed faintly in my mind. “Don’t die.”

  My lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Not planning to.”

  Rejuvenation…

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