When I finally managed to focus my sight, I found myself in an environment completely alien to anything I knew.
A bright glare pierced my pupils, causing me to instinctively furrow my brow. I felt a disconcerting tingling in my eyes, and my vision swayed dizzyingly, as if I were performing a high-altitude flight without protection.
Fortunately, the dizziness dissipated relatively quickly, allowing me to study my surroundings with greater clarity and precision.
The humid air felt heavy in my lungs, laden with the pungent smell of wet earth and dust accumulated over centuries. My mouth was tinged with a metallic taste I immediately recognized as iron, possibly blood.
I was in a corridor stretching in a straight line. The walls, built with solid stone blocks, rose imposingly on both sides, creating a claustrophobic sensation that quickened my pulse.
The passage vanished into darkness in both directions, faintly illuminated by torches sporadically placed in rusty metal sconces attached to the walls. The flames danced nervously, perpetually on the verge of extinction, yet they remained lit by some unknown mechanism, providing dim but constant illumination in all directions.
The gloom was so dense that I could barely make out objects a meter away. Beyond that, everything sank into an impenetrable veil of shadows hiding any potential danger.
"How many unsuspecting souls would have been seduced by this fantastical appearance, unaware that it would inexorably lead them to death?" I wondered bitterly.
The Tower of Paradise was a crucible where the most primal human emotions converged: trust and betrayal, faith and disbelief, desire and despair, joy and suffering, love and hate, courage and fear… All coexisted in this impossible space.
Historically, humans had always formed groups to attempt to conquer the tower, as venturing alone was, frankly, an exceptionally foolish and painful form of suicide.
My heart raced wildly in my chest, betraying the nervousness that consumed me to the core.
—It's just the first floor —I murmured to bolster my courage, though I knew full well that bravery was irrelevant in this unforgiving place.
Only someone utterly deranged, someone for whom the boundary between life and death had lost all meaning, would dare venture alone and without special abilities into the depths of the Tower.
The trials varied significantly from the second level onward, but the initial challenge was determined by the selected difficulty. I couldn't help but acknowledge my dread of perishing in vain, driven by my own greed and ambition. The darkness viscerally terrified me, and my mind was besieged by fragmented memories of my previous existence.
Despite all my accumulated experiences, I still didn't feel mentally prepared for what was to come. A bitter smile curved my lips; I understood that no amount of additional time would have resolved that deficiency.
Venturing into the Tower completely alone and devoid of supernatural abilities… my terror was entirely natural and justified. Yet, I had no viable alternatives; after all, greed had always been my greatest flaw.
Reason and logic screamed that this endeavor was tantamount to premeditated suicide, but I had to place my faith in my innate survival skills.
"This is the only way to grow strong quickly enough," I reminded myself.
Everything would begin in this entry chamber, where monstrosities, lethal traps, and Pandora's boxes awaited. Surviving even these initial obstacles would largely depend on luck.
The oppressive gloom hindered my vision, forcing me to guess at the presence of walls and possible exits leading to other chambers.
I advanced cautiously through the shadowy, seemingly deserted corridor, keeping one hand firmly pressed against the wall to maximize my protection as much as possible.
Each step I took was meticulously calculated, holding the spear in front of me like an improvised shield. I moved by slightly dragging my feet over the compacted dirt and polished rock floor, avoiding any sounds that might alert potential predators.
"Am I wasting precious time?" I questioned with growing anxiety. "Is this a time-limited mission?" The uncertainty and horror intensified within me with every passing second.
My childish body began to show unmistakable signs of fatigue; my right arm and shoulder felt stiff from the continuous effort of holding the spear in a defensive position.
My back, arms, and shoulders trembled uncontrollably, and I could swear I heard my muscles protesting with every movement. Sweat poured profusely from every pore of my skin, and the acrid smell of my own breath betrayed my extreme nervousness.
I kept my legs bent in a defensive stance, my back slightly hunched forward, my shoulders and neck tense from the strain, clinging to the spear as if it were my only link to survival.
I felt I would collapse if I continued moving in that unnatural position for my body—after all, I was only a ten-year-old boy—but I forced myself to endure the growing discomfort.
Suddenly, a disturbing sound froze my movements. Something was approaching.
A guttural growl was my only warning before a shadow lunged at me. I felt a searing pain as sharp claws sank deep into my arm, and warm blood began to flow abundantly from the wound.
If I hadn't reacted out of pure survival instinct, it probably would have severed my limb entirely.
—Arrrgh! —The pain was unbearable, but I managed to violently swing my other arm forward in a desperate act of self-defense. Fortunately, my elbow struck the skull of my attacker with enough force to momentarily stun it.
The flickering torchlight revealed a repulsive creature: its dark green skin covered a deformed, emaciated body, with a bestial face vaguely reminiscent of a corrupted human infant. I immediately identified the creature as similar to the goblins inhabiting caves in the fantasy games I had enjoyed so much.
The being clung desperately to its prominent bones, as its gaunt anatomy, evidently suffering from severe malnutrition, lacked significant muscle mass. Besides its greenish hue and skeletal build, its completely bald skull stood out.
"Goblin," I thought with surprising clarity despite the pain and panic.
Beyond their impressive reproductive capacity, they were considered the most basic and fragile monsters in the fantastical bestiary. They barely matched the size, strength, and intelligence of a human child.
Their only significant advantage lay in their ability to see perfectly in the dark—a gift I did not possess. The difference between the goblins I had faced in video games and this tangible reality was as vast as the distance separating the sky from the earth.
The goblin staggered and retreated a few steps from the force of my unexpected blow, struggling to regain its lost balance. Its physical resilience far surpassed mine, preventing me from delivering a truly decisive attack.
—Rrrrrr… —The menacing sound it emitted froze the blood in my veins.
—Oh… —I murmured almost inaudibly as I dragged myself across the ground, hastily trying to wrap my wounded arm to stem the bleeding that threatened to weaken me quickly.
The goblin, however, was not inclined to give me a respite. It lunged at me again with surprising agility, while I remained partially paralyzed by the shock of the first encounter.
Its speed was impressive, completely at odds with the mental image I had constructed of these creatures.
I swallowed nervously as I rolled across the ground to evade its attack, aware that if this continued, my fate was sealed.
By sheer chance—or perhaps by the intervention of fate—my hand brushed against a rock as I performed that desperate maneuver. My survival instinct kicked in instantly, prompting me to rise and grip that makeshift weapon firmly. With a surge born of desperation, I charged at the goblin, letting out a primal howl I didn't recognize in myself.
I hurled the rock with all the strength I could muster, striking the goblin's skull directly. The projectile tore through the greenish flesh with a nauseating crunch, causing dark, viscous blood to gush abundantly from the wound.
The impact made it stagger, letting out an agonized shriek, unbalancing it enough to send it crashing heavily to the ground. I had created a perfect opportunity to finish it, and I wasn't about to waste it.
I pounced on the fallen creature, striking it repeatedly and frantically with the same rock I had used as a projectile. In my mind, there was nothing but the urgent need to survive at any cost.
"Humans have always relied on tools," I recalled as I delivered blow after blow to my adversary.
Despite the brutal beating it was receiving, the monster continued to resist tenaciously, emitting shrill sounds and desperately trying to rise.
The more the goblin shrieked, the greater my determination to silence it definitively with that bloodied rock.
The sweat and blood—both mine and the creature's—ran down my face as I struck relentlessly, channeling every ounce of strength I still had into each impact.
Finally, the rock's hardness overcame the goblin's skull, crushing it with a forceful blow that caused a fatal trauma. Blood gushed copiously from the mortal wound, and with a faint final growl, the goblin breathed its last.
An instant later, that vaguely familiar voice echoed again in the air, as if it had been observing the skirmish from some higher plane.
It was, without a doubt, the most melodious sound I had ever heard:
[You have killed a goblin (G).]