When Leo's vision returned, he found himself once again in the white room.
The overwhelming silence hit him first—sterile and complete, as if even the air was holding its breath. The cool luminescence of the walls had returned to their default glow, and the heavy door stood tall and unmoving before him.
The timer above it now read:
[23:56.13]
Leo exhaled slowly and rubbed his face.
'Assuming this room gives me a full twenty-four-hour break between each trial… that fight with the goblin only lasted about four minutes. Most of that time was just me waiting for the little bastard to finish dying.'
His brows furrowed.
'The heart stopped immediately after I stabbed it, but the trial didn't end until it was unquestionably, undeniably dead. So the system doesn't register a win until the threat is completely neutralized…'
With the immediate danger over, Leo let himself relax. He carefully sat down and slipped off his right shoe.
The top of his foot was swollen and red, splotched faintly with yellowing discoloration. The skin looked angry and tender, and the throbbing ache was finally catching up to him. Leo hissed through his teeth as he poked at it gently, testing the range of motion with slow, deliberate movements.
"No sharp pain. No instability. Not broken," he muttered. "Just bruised to hell."
He laid back flat against the smooth floor. The adrenaline that had kept him sharp and focused moments ago now abandoned him like a tide pulling away from shore. His arms felt heavy. His legs ached. A dull fatigue crept in from all angles, muffling his thoughts.
'During the fight, I felt amazing—blood pumping, senses dialed in. Now? I feel like a crash-test dummy after a car commercial.'
He closed his eyes, replaying the encounter again and again—every movement, every decision. What he did right. What he hesitated on. What he could've done faster. The images cycled endlessly through his mind until, somewhere between critique and exhaustion, sleep crept up behind him and pulled him under.
When Leo finally stirred, the white room looked unchanged—but the timer had advanced significantly.
[19:43.21]
He blinked and squinted up at it.
'So I slept for… what, a little over four hours?'
He groaned as he sat up. His entire body felt like it had been run over by a cart full of bricks. Stiffness locked up his spine, and every joint creaked like poorly-oiled hinges. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
'It's like I'm back in high school. Try to take a 15-minute nap after class… wake up five hours later, wondering what year it is.'
Leo got to his feet, slowly working through a series of stretches. His foot was still sore, but manageable. The stiffness faded little by little as he paced around the room, getting his blood moving again.
After a few laps, he stopped and stared at the door. The same door that had first welcomed him to the tower. The same one that had led to his first kill.
He walked toward it, just to check.
[Trial 02]
[Would you like to enter?]
[Yes] [No]
Leo stared at the prompt for a second before tapping [No] again.
"Yeah… not quite yet."
He turned away. There was still time left, and now more than ever, he understood how critical recovery and preparation would be. The bruised foot wasn't a game-changer, but it was a reminder—every bit of damage mattered in this place.
'Alright,' Leo thought, cracking his neck. 'Time to address the elephant in the room.'
He walked to the opposite wall. There, suspended in the air like some kind of digital relic from a sci-fi dream, floated more glowing letters.
[Rewards]
Leo tapped the glowing button hovering in the air.
[Congratulations on a successful Trial, Challenger!]
[Please select one of the following rewards:]
[Equipment][Stat Points][Information][Lottery][Redeem Later]
He stared at the list, arms crossed.
'Only one pick, huh?'
The text shimmered faintly, almost eager. Leo's eyes narrowed as he considered his options, then tapped the top one.
[Equipment]
[Select a piece of equipment equivalent to your performance in the last trial]
[Armor][Weapons][Accessories]
He hovered over Armor first. A series of previews appeared: battered leather vests, splintered wooden bracers, and thin cloth wraps.
'Not exactly knight-grade protection. Most of this looks like cosplay from a Ren Faire crash site.'
He switched to Accessories next—only to find even less promising choices. A cracked copper ring labeled "+0.1 Regeneration" and a dirty feather pendant with a vague description about "luck."
Leo clicked his tongue.
'No thanks. If I'm putting anything around my neck, it better do more than wish me good luck before I die.'
Then he tapped Weapons—and paused.
Even at the bottom tier, the selection felt… significant. Rusty short swords. Jagged bone knives. A spear cobbled together from sharpened scrap and cloth.
Crude, yes. But functional.
He could picture it already: that first goblin had been pathetic, but future ones might not be. Weapons meant range. Control. Leverage. More importantly, they meant he didn't have to keep breaking his foot kicking things to death.
'This one's promising. If I can fight smarter, I won't have to fight harder.'
Still, Leo backed out without choosing anything. Not yet.
He tapped the next option.
[Stat Points]
[Distribute stat points based on performance in the last trial]
[Available: 0.5]
StrengthStaminaAgilityIntelligence
He frowned at the paltry number.
'Half a point. That's like getting a participation ribbon.'
I'm sure I'll be using this section a lot, but not right now'
All useful. All long-term investments.
'But what good is a stat point if I can't deal any real damage?'
He moved on.
[Information]
[Ask one question related to your performance in the last trial]
[Input Question Below:]
A blank field hovered midair, cursor blinking.
Leo stared at it, then typed:
"Where am I?"
[Query exceeds current tier. Please refine.]
He sighed.
'So I can only ask what I've already mostly figured out. Wonderful.'
He deleted it and tried:
"What was that creature?"
[Accepted.]
[Would you like to use your rewards to answer the question ("What was that creature?")?]
[Yes] [No]
Leo sighed before tapping [No]
Then came the [Lottery].
A colorful wheel materialized, spinning with hypnotic ticks. Most spaces were blank or gray, with a few golden slivers and bright icons.
A classic gamble.
'High risk, high reward. But based on how stingy everything's been so far, I'd probably win a healing band-aid or something called "Goblin Toenail: Crafting Material."'
He snorted.
Hard pass.
Finally, he tapped [Redeem Later].
[Save reward for future accumulation. Unclaimed rewards increase total tier of future trials.]
Tempting. He could bank this round's measly scraps and try for something better later. But that assumed he'd survive the next trial. And the next.
'If I don't take anything now and die next floor, I'll look real smart with all my hoarded potential.'
He stood in silence, the menu still open before him.
Leo's eyes drifted back to the Equipment tab—specifically, the weapons.
He didn't need better armor yet. He didn't have enough stat points to matter. And gambling on luck or lore didn't feel like the kind of thing that would save his life in a fight.
But a spear? Even a busted one?
That could keep a blade out of his gut.
He tapped his chin.
'Yeah… if I'm going to make it through this tower, I need something I can rely on in my hands. Something I understand.'
Leo hovered his finger over the Weapons tab…
He closed the interface, the options fading from view.
The room returned to its stillness. Silent. Bright. Waiting.
Leo sat down slowly, resting his elbows on his knees. His foot still ached, the memory of the goblin's cracked skull and his own bruised bone vivid in his mind.
He thought back to the crude obsidian shiv clutched in the goblin's claw. It was primitive, barely more than a sharpened rock lashed to a bone—but it could cut. It could kill. Even in the hands of a snarling little monster, it was dangerous. And the nails—filthy, jagged, glinting with disease and malice—those had been weapons too, in their own way. The goblin didn't need strength or finesse. All it had to do was land one hit. One scratch. That would've been enough.
Leo stared at his own hands. Smooth. Unarmed. He'd won that fight, sure—but not without risk. Not without damage.
"Victory means nothing if you bleed out afterward," he muttered to himself.
He needed a way to strike without getting struck. To end fights faster, safer. He needed reach. Precision. Power that didn't come at the cost of his bones.
The equipment option. Weapons. That was the answer. That was survival.
He leaned back, letting his thoughts settle into place.
'Gorillas are stronger. Cheetahs are faster. Birds can fly. Fish can swim.
But humans? Humans became the apex predators of Earth because of tools—
Because we learned to make weapons.'
Some were clearly not practical—at least not for someone in his position. Greatswords that were almost as tall as he was, kusarigamas with tangled chains and sickle blades, polearms with complicated grips and foreign names—they all looked lethal in the hands of an expert, but Leo had no illusions about his current skill. He wasn't trained in the art of war. He was athletic, sure. Fast, agile, disciplined in his own way. But none of that translated into years of combat training. He didn't have the time to fumble through a steep learning curve.
Then there were the other options.
"Brick. Metal chair. A pouch of sand…"
Leo squinted at the description on the pouch.
[Blinds the enemy. If they have eyes.]
He closed that tab immediately.
Eventually, after combing through the clutter, two choices stood out from the rest. Two practical, battlefield-tested tools that anyone—even a half-trained human—could reasonably use.
A sword and shield.
And a spear.
He let the holograms float there in front of him, rotating slowly as if daring him to choose.
The sword and shield gave him something solid. Defense. Balance. A backup plan. The idea of having something between him and a monster's claws was… comforting. He'd seen enough movies to understand the basics: block with the shield, strike with the sword. Simple in theory, flexible in practice. And the shield could be used offensively too—bash, push, deflect. There was a certain weight to the pairing that spoke of resilience.
But then there was the spear.
Elegant in its simplicity. Long reach, direct purpose. The ultimate tool of "stay away from me."
Even without formal training, the basics of a spear were intuitive. Point and thrust. Keep distance. A clean stab could end a fight before it began. Leo thought back to the goblin's claws, how easily a single swipe could've sliced him open if he'd slipped. A longer weapon meant a wider margin for error.
Still, there were trade-offs.
The spear lacked the versatility of a shield. If an enemy closed the distance, he'd be in trouble. It was more linear—less forgiving in tight quarters. And while it gave him control of range, it offered no protection if things got messy.
'The spear plays to my strengths—speed, reach, footwork. But the sword and shield… they offer a safety net. A second chance if things go wrong.'
He stood there for a while, arms crossed, studying both projections. Neither felt like the wrong answer.
And that was the problem.
One was the tool of a soldier. The other, the weapon of a hunter.
Both were made for survival.
Leo exhaled slowly.
'This is going to take some thought.'
The holograms continued to spin in front of Leo—quiet, expectant, unwavering.
He stared at them, arms folded and jaw tight.
'If I think about it… I really don't have much of a choice, huh?'
Leo sighed through his nose and tapped the option.
A prompt flickered into place:
[Would you like to use your reward to redeem: Basic Sword and Shield?]
[Yes] [No]
He hovered over it for a moment longer—just enough to give the illusion of free will—then tapped [Yes].
He watched the confirmation flash by as the reward system acknowledged his decision.
'A spear might've given me reach, but if something gets in close—and it will—I need something between me and a blade. I'm not armored. I'm not fast enough to dodge forever. But with this… at least I have a chance.'
The combination wasn't glamorous. It wasn't going to turn him into some fantasy warlord. But it was balanced. Offense and defense. Something to hit with, something to block with.
Practical. Reliable.
And right now, survival mattered more than elegance.
'Once I understand how these trials work better, I can rethink my strategy. Maybe specialize. But for now… safety first.'
The reward menu vanished, fading into translucent dust as a familiar soft white light began to glow at his feet. It pulsed once, and then—
Fwump.
Two items clattered gently to the pristine floor below.
The shield was small, circular—maybe a buckler, though it was hard to tell under the years of wear. Its surface was made of dark, weathered wood, held together with iron bands that had long since lost their polish. A long crack split the top right quadrant, partially reinforced by a bolted-on iron rim that looked like it had been salvaged from something else entirely. It wasn't pretty—but it had a kind of rugged character. Like it had survived more battles than its previous owner.
The sword lay beside it—short, functional, and unadorned. A basic iron blade, rust-stained along the fuller and nicked at the edges, with a plain leather-wrapped grip. The pommel was loose, and the blade was slightly unbalanced, but it was still a sword. Still a piece of sharpened metal that could kill.
Leo crouched beside the pair, taking them in carefully, almost reverently.
'Not much to look at... but even a rusty blade is better than bare hands.'
His fingers wrapped around the hilt. The leather was stiff, gritty with age, but familiar in an odd way—like it was made to be held, no matter how crude. He lifted the shield next, testing the weight on his arm. It was light, manageable.
And most importantly—it felt like something that could stop a knife.
His thoughts drifted to the goblin again.
That pathetic shiv. Its filthy claws. Neither had been impressive on their own—but in the moment, they'd been terrifying. Lethal.
'The real danger wasn't how strong it was. It was that I had no way to hurt it without getting hurt myself.'
He flexed his fingers on the grip of the sword, then tapped the edge of the shield with his knuckles.
'Now, at least, I can do damage while staying alive.'
No more risking a kick and catching claws. No more hoping he was faster than the next enemy's swing. Now he had a weapon.
And weapons were what made humans dangerous.