The plaza smelled like smoke and frying oil. Night-market stalls did a brisk business selling grilled meat and dubious "energy stew" to hunters with new scars. The Tower hovered in the distance like a black moon, humming softly — a reminder that the next trial could begin any second.
Anos sat on a low wall, stick-sword propped against his knee, watching Molar chase a runaway bread roll across the square. The training had helped: his telekinesis felt less like wobbling jelly and more like a tool he could actually use for things other than snatching snacks from across the room. He still couldn't bend reality into origami, but he was getting there — slowly, stubbornly.
A voice interrupted his quiet.
"You're Anos, right?"
He turned. The man standing there was mid-twenties, hair cropped close, clothes patched but clean. He carried a crude spear slung over his shoulder and a look that combined raw hope with the haunted exhaustion of someone who'd seen too much for his years.
Anos squinted. "Who wants to know?"
The man took a breath as if rehearsed his lines. "Name's Maggus." He bowed quickly — awkward, sincere. "Named after the Tower. 'Maggie' swallowed my whole village and spit me out lucky. Ever since then… I've called myself Maggus. Tower gave me a new life and then almost took it back. You saved me in that village — you pulled me from under the wreckage. I owe you my life. I want to join you."
Silence. For a second the night noise seemed to fall away. Anos' expression didn't change much; his face was the same easy mask it always wore. But his eyes noticed small things: the limp on Maggus' left foot, the calluses on his hands, the way his jaw clenched when he talked about the Tower. A survivor. A kid who'd been resurrected by chance and wanted to pay that chance forward.
"You saved me," Maggus said, louder. "You knocked a goblin chief's skull off its shoulders and then you left us alive. I watched you from the shadows that night. You didn't need to pull me out, but you did. I… I want to fight by your side. Teach me. Let me repay you."
Anos looked at Molar, who was now sitting primly on his lap with a bread roll in her hands, eyes wide and idolizing. Then he looked back at Maggus.
He could say no. He could remind the man that the Tower didn't care about debts or group photos; it only took and tested. He could say "Go gain levels and stop being melodramatic." Instead Anos shrugged.
"Fine," he said. "But you have three conditions."
Maggus blinked. "What—?"
"One: you don't eat Molar's food. Two: if you die, don't cry about it — it's messy. Three: call me 'Anos' like a proper teammate, not some ritual name — unless you want to keep being poetic all the time. Also, the Tower will make you suffer. It's in the brochure."
Maggus grinned, relieved and ridiculous in the same instant. "I accept all. All of them."
The System chimed with its usual bored tone.
[Companion Recruitment Attempt Detected. Would you like to accept Maggus as a Companion?]
Anos flicked his stick. "Yes."
[Companion Accepted. Companion Status: Maggus — Towerborn.]
[Note: Companions grant synergy bonuses. Do not neglect trust-building.]
Maggus practically saluted. "Thank you, Anos. I won't let you down."
They didn't have time for sentiment. The Tower's voice rolled over the city like a drum.
[Fourth Trial — begins now. All participants will be transferred.]
Light swallowed them.
---
They landed in a different kind of arena than last time. This place was a ruined marketplace floating in fractured gravity: stalls leaned at impossible angles, cobblestones floated in dizzying arcs, and broken chandeliers drifted overhead like deadly jellyfish. Gears embedded into stone walls turned slowly, clicking the air with a hollow, mechanical rhythm. The Tower liked to show off.
Anos checked his interface. Molar's vitals were steady but low; Maggus' heartbeat came up as fast as his nerves.
[System Alert: Environment — Shattered Bazaar. Enemy Type — Gearbeasts and Shard Wraiths. Phase Objective: Survive & secure the Bazaar's Anchor Points. Time Limit: 8 hours.]
"Anchor points?" Maggus asked.
"Places the Tower wants to break," Anos said. "We stop that, the trial pities us a little. Or not at all. Depends on our performance."
They moved.
STEP ONE — RECONNAISSANCE
Anos zipped a short distance with telekinetic assistance, lifting a broken stall to create a higher vantage. He'd learned his Ruin's limits: it required concentration and left him tired after big moves. No disasters, no god-mode. Just muscle and brain.
From this height he could see the first anchor: a massive gearhouse, its maw open and pulsing. Around it, patrolling were small, insectile Gearbeasts — metal shells with leg-sprockets and glowing cores — and ethereal Shard Wraiths that seemed to slip between physical and non-physical.
Anos pointed. "We split. Molar takes the villagers and secures cover. Maggus, you and I hit the anchor. I'll handle the crowd control — rocks, debris, whatever. You focus on combos and keeping pressure on anything that reaches my line."
STEP TWO — DEFENSIVE SETUP
Molar nodded and threaded a faint dimensional barrier around a safe pocket — she'd learned the barrier skill enough to make small, temporary shields. It shimmered like soap, fragile but effective.
Maggus gripped his spear the way someone grips hope. "Teach me one move. One special move."
Anos smirked. "Alright. When I throw a target in the air with telekinesis, stab the downbeat — aim for the core. Clear?"
Maggus blinked. "Aim for the core. Got it."
STEP THREE — ENGAGE
Anos started by hurling a cluster of stones into the path of an incoming Gearbeast. They collided with a metallic screech; fragments ricocheted, blinding a pack of Shard Wraiths. He wasn't tossing cannonballs. He used small, precise motions to disorient and herd.
Maggus moved like a boy who'd practised drills with a spear by watching others. He blocked, pivoted, thrust — crude, but effective. The first Gearbeast bit the dust under a coordinated telekinetic toss and a spear drive that split its core casing.
Molar chanted, weaving her threads to bind a wraith long enough for Maggus to land a blow. Her barriers flickered; she was taxed, but present, eyes fierce with the fire of someone protecting what mattered.
STEP FOUR — ADAPT
The Bazaar fought back with traps: swinging chandeliers, gravity reversals that tossed them toward the gearhouse, and swarms that leaned on numbers. A chandelier slammed into a column as the gravity shifted; Anos telekinetically caught a shard and flung it as shrapnel into a cluster of wraiths.
The System pinged with its annoying littleness.
[Reminder: Telekinesis—use conservatively. Overstrain may cause feedback.]
Anos grunted. He could feel the Ruin chafe at his will. He slowed, traded power for agility, using flicks rather than holding. This kept him from burning out and kept his motions lethal.
At one point, a gravity flip sent him and Maggus spinning into the air. Maggus shouted, "Now!" remembering the lesson. Anos lobbed a stone; it stalled in mid-orbit — just for an instant — and Maggus drove his spear through the thing like a spear-turned-harpoon into a meatball. The Gearbeast exploded in a blossom of sparks.
Molar laughed — a bright, exhausted sound — and the villagers trapped behind her barrier cheered like children at a fireworks show. The rhythm became their friend: throw, pierce, bind, repeat.
STEP FIVE — THE MINI-BOSS
Just as they secured two of the anchor points, the ground repercussed. A Shard Warden emerged: an amalgam of floating glass shards spiraling around an inner, beating core. It didn't clamber on the ground; it moved like a blade-spinning crown.
"This one's nasty," Anos said.
"No kidding," Maggus panted.
Anos orchestrated the play. He telekinetically lifted debris to create a funnel — the Warden's mobility depended on open space. Maggus baited it, darting out, drawing the swirls in a short arc. Molar tightened her barrier into a ring that slowed the warden's movement.
At the crucial beat, Anos snapped concentration, flinging a jagged roof tile with perfect vector. The tile struck a shard and redirected a flurry into the Warden's core. For an instant the Warden faltered. Maggus surged, weapon finding the seam in the armor, and with a scream like hope and vinegar he drove his spear into the exposed core.
The Warden cracked like ice. Light poured out. They had a moment's victory.
They collapsed against the rubble, breathing heavy. The System chimed again.
[Mini-Boss Defeated. Synergy Bonus Granted. Companion Trust +1. Reward: Minor Ruin Fragment.]
Maggus looked at Anos with new respect. "You taught me to fight like I had a chance."
"You did a lot," Anos said quietly. "You learned, and you didn't freeze in front of the boss. That's what matters."
Molar leaned against him, exhausted but grinning. "Teamwork looks cute on us."
Anos allowed himself a small smile.
EPILOGUE — AFTERMATH
They didn't clear the Bazaar in ten minutes. They bled and sweated, but against the Tower's engineered cruelty they held two anchor points and kept the villagers alive. The fourth trial wasn't meant to be one-man heroics; it was a test of bonds and problem-solving. Anos left with a satisfying ache in his muscles and the warm, ridiculous certainty that Maggus would stick around.
As the Tower spat them back into the plaza that night, the System appended one last note.
[Companion Confirmed: Maggus — loyalty increases. Current party effectiveness: +12%. Continue to develop teamwork. Remaining Trials: Numerous.]
Anos glanced at Maggus, then at Molar, then at the Tower. No gloating. No ridiculous claim of invincibility. Just the slow, steady grin of someone who had a crew now.
"Alright," Anos said, shouldering the stick. "You passed your first trial by not panicking. That deserves a reward. Pizza tomorrow."
Maggus laughed until he coughed. "You said you don't have money."
"I know a guy," Anos lied with a conspiratorial wink.
Molar popped a bread roll into her mouth and mumbled, "Best leader ever."
The Tower hummed above them — indifferent, patient. The real climb would continue. But now Anos had one more reason to walk forward: not vanity, not just the promise of power, but the tiny, stubborn human weight of friends who trusted him.
And that, the System could not classify.