"Thank you all for your attention," the man on the platform continued, his voice carrying effortlessly over the hushed crowd. "I'll keep this brief and to the point.
"First: when you step through the gate, each of you will spawn at a random location on Stage 1. This prevents bottlenecks and immediate chaos at the entrance. If you want to start together with someone, register as a party beforehand. It's simple—touch your marks together, right wrist to right wrist. You'll be linked. You'll see each other's basic location on a mini-map, but nothing else: no stats, no class details, no Core Cost. Privacy stays intact."
Bob nudged Stray lightly with his elbow, grinning.
"See? Told you there's nothing to worry about."
Stray just nodded. "Yeah. Got it."
The overseer went on.
"Second: every stage has several safe zones—neutral towns and outposts where combat is impossible. The Tower enforces it; try to fight there and you'll be ejected or paralyzed. Use them to rest, trade, and plan
.
"Third: each stage is massive—roughly the size of a real-world nation. You'll have plenty of ground to explore, hide, or hunt, but it also means finding the portal to the next stage won't always be quick.
"Fourth: there's a minimum level requirement to use those portals. Rush too early, and the gate simply won't open for you.
"And finally—the most important thing: death inside the Tower is permanent. No second chances, no respawn outside the safe zones on higher floors, no miracles. If you die out in the open, that's it. Game over. So stay sharp, stay cautious, and stay alive.
"If everything's clear—welcome to the Tower, new generation of Climbers. You may enter."
The platform dissolved in another puff of smoke, and the crowd began to stir.
Bob turned to Stray immediately.
"Come on—let's register as a party before we go in."
Stray hesitated for half a second, then shrugged. "Alright."
They both extended their right arms. The faint glow of their marks brightened as the wrists touched. A soft chime rang in their minds, and a small system notification appeared:
[Party Formed: 2/5 Members]
[Member: Bob]
[Member: Stray]
Bob flashed a quick smile. "There. Now we won't lose each other on spawn."
He started toward the shimmering arch, motioning for Stray to follow.
"Let's go. Forward."
Stray took a deep breath, gripped the hilt of his dagger once, and stepped into the gate beside him. The blue energy rippled like water, swallowing them whole.
A blinding flash flooded Stray's vision the moment he crossed the threshold. Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding.
"Hey! You there?" Bob's voice cut through the haze, close and excited.
Stray opened his eyes slowly. The harsh blue light of the gate was gone. Instead, warm sunlight bathed an endless expanse of rolling green meadows. Tall grass swayed gently in the breeze, dotted with wildflowers. Fluffy white clouds drifted across a vast blue sky. In the distance, a line of trees marked the edge of a forest, and faint hills rose on the horizon.
Bob stood right beside him, arms spread wide, grinning like a kid on his first adventure.
"Look at this place! It's insane!"
Stray blinked, taking it all in. The air smelled fresh—clean earth and grass. It felt too real, too peaceful, for a place that was supposed to be deadly.
"Yeah," he managed. "Incredible."
Bob spun around once, laughing. "We're in! We're actually in the Tower! Come on, we gotta start grinding levels fast—push to the next stages before everyone else catches up!"
Stray shook his head. "No."
Bob stopped mid-spin. "No? Why not? The faster we level, the sooner we clear floors. That's the whole point!"
"I was told not to rush," Stray said quietly. "The woman who brought me here—she said rushing is a rookie mistake. We should start small, kill weak monsters, get used to fighting and our powers before moving deeper."
Bob stared at him for a second, then waved a hand dismissively. "Come on, man. Waiting around? We've got momentum! Don't worry—I've got your back."
Stray didn't budge. "We can take it slow at first. It's safer."
Bob sighed, slapping Stray lightly on the shoulder. "Fine, fine. If you're nervous, we'll start easy. So—what are we hunting?"
"Give me a second," Stray muttered, frowning in thought. What did she call them…? Those weak ones…
Bob raised an eyebrow. "You spacing out on me?"
"Got it." Stray snapped his fingers. "Slimes."
"Slimes?" Bob groaned. "Those little gooey blobs? They're boring as hell. Barely any fight in them."
"I know," Stray admitted. "But I haven't even tested my Denz ability yet. Starting with something that can't kill me sounds smart."
Bob eyed him for a moment, expression caught between amusement and impatience. Then he shrugged.
"Alright, alright. I could use the practice too." Though I'm starting to wonder if teaming up with this guy was a mistake, he thought.
"Thanks," Stray said, relief creeping into his voice. "Let's go find some, then."
"Yeah, yeah—let's make it quick," Bob replied, already scanning the meadow. "I'm dying to move on to real monsters."
The two started walking through the tall grass, the peaceful landscape hiding whatever dangers lay ahead.
They walked along the stream for a while, the water gurgling softly over rocks. Bob led, eyes sharp, while Stray trailed a step behind, hand never far from his dagger.
"There," Bob whispered suddenly, pointing.
Three small blue slimes oozed along the muddy bank, each about the size of a melon. They left faint glistening trails in the grass, moving lazily, almost aimlessly.
Bob crouched low. "I'll take the left one. You watch how I do it—then try the middle."
Stray nodded, but his throat felt tight. He'd never fought anything in his life. Not really. No memories of scrapes or brawls—just the blank emptiness in his head. His palm sweated around the dagger hilt.
Bob moved first—quick, confident. He darted forward, dagger flashing down. The blade pierced the slime with a wet *splat*. The creature jiggled wildly, then burst into mist. A tiny orb of light drifted into Bob's mark.
[Kill: Lesser Slime (Lv. 2)]
[+12 XP]
Bob exhaled, grinning back. "Easy. Your turn."
Stray's legs felt heavy. He stared at the middle slime. It hadn't even noticed its companion's death—just kept inching toward a patch of wet grass.
*It's just a blob,* he told himself. *Can't even bite.*
But his heart hammered anyway. What if he missed? What if it somehow hurt him? What if the pain from healing was worse than he imagined?
He stepped forward slowly, raising the dagger. The slime extended a lazy pseudopod toward his boot.
Stray froze for a second—then stabbed downward, too hard. The blade sank deep, but his grip slipped. Goo splattered his hand, cold and sticky.
The slime quivered and dissolved.
[Kill: Lesser Slime (Lv. 1)]
[+10 XP]
A faint warmth spread through him—progress, but no level up yet. Just a thin bar filling in his peripheral vision: [XP: 10 / 100]
Bob was already on the third, finishing it with a clean thrust.
[Kill: Lesser Slime (Lv. 2)]
[+12 XP]
Bob wiped his blade on the grass. "Three down. Felt good, right?"
Stray stared at his goo-covered hand, breathing faster than he wanted to admit. "Yeah… sure."
*It didn't even fight back. And I still almost hesitated.*
Bob scanned the stream. "More upstream. Let's keep going. Gotta rack up a bunch if we want that first level before dark."
They moved on, spotting another cluster of five slimes near a small pool. Bob took point again—swift, efficient, striking before they could react. Stray followed, forcing himself to move faster each time. Stab, twist, step back. Goo on his sleeves, on his boots. The fear didn't vanish, but it dulled into something manageable.
After the tenth kill—Stray's sixth—a soft chime rang in his head.
[Level Up! You are now Level 2.]
[+3 Stat Points]
The rush hit: muscles felt a little stronger, thoughts sharper. He exhaled shakily.
Bob hit Level 2 a few kills later, moving even faster afterward—like his body had loosened, reflexes sharpened.
"See?" Bob said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Told you it'd feel good. You're getting the hang of it."
Stray nodded, but didn't smile. The dagger felt heavier now, slick with slime residue. *Ten weak blobs to reach Level 2. What happens when something actually fights back?*
They pressed on along the stream, the peaceful meadow hiding the slow grind of survival.
The afternoon wore on, the sun climbing higher in the flawless Tower sky. Slimes dotted the stream banks like forgotten puddles—endless, mindless fodder. Bob handled most of the kills, his movements growing sharper with each one, a blur of speed and precision that made Stray wonder just what kind of Denz class his new partner had. Stray contributed where he could, his strikes steadying from clumsy hacks to cleaner thrusts, but he still hung back, letting Bob draw the blobs' lazy attention.
No dramatic level-ups—just the slow drip of XP notifications stacking in his vision.
[Kill: Lesser Slime (Lv. 2)]
[+12 XP]
[XP: 47 / 200]
Another cluster—five this time, huddled near a fallen log. Bob zipped in, dagger flickering like lightning, popping two before Stray even raised his arm. Stray finished the rest, goo splattering his vest.
[XP: 112 / 200]
Sweat beaded on his forehead. His arms burned from the repetition, but the initial terror had faded into grim routine. *This is it? Hours stabbing jelly for scraps?*
Bob laughed after a particularly clean combo. "We're flying now! Keep this up, and we'll be pros by nightfall."
Stray didn't reply. He was too focused on not slipping in the muck.
Finally, after clearing a dozen more from a shallow pool—Bob taking eight, Stray four—the chimes rang in tandem.
[Level Up! You are now Level 3.]
[+3 Stat Points]
[Next Level: 200 XP Required]
The familiar warmth surged through him—muscles coiling tighter, senses honing. Stray didn't know what he truly needed yet. Willpower for the pain? Or something to keep him alive longer, like Bob's unnatural speed? He split the points experimentally: one to Agility (for quicker dodges), one to Vitality (to take a hit), and one to Dexterity (for better strikes).
[Level Up! You are now Level 4.]
[+3 Stat Points]
[Next Level: 400 XP Required]
Another rush. This time, Stray went bolder: two to Agility—hoping to match even a fraction of Bob's fluidity—and one to Perception, to spot threats sooner.
Bob sheathed his dagger with a flourish, barely winded. "Level 4, baby! Felt that power spike? You're getting quicker too."
Stray flexed his fingers, feeling the subtle shift—movements a hair smoother, steps lighter. "Yeah. Not bad."
Bob scanned the horizon, restless. "One more slime wave? Or ready for goblins? I saw tracks back there—real fights, real XP."
Stray wiped slime residue from his blade, then paused. *Might as well check.*
He focused inward, willing the status window to appear. The translucent blue panel flickered into view:
═══════════════════════════
[Status Updated]
═══════════════════════════
[Name: Stray]
[True Name: Unknown / Sealed]
[Level: 4]
[Title: Stray – The One Who Lost Their Way]
→ Effect: Perception +2 in unknown territories
[Denz Class: Regenerator]
[Class Rank: Awakened]
[Regenerator Fragments: 0/???]
[Core Cost: Agonizing Pain] ← (Private: Visible only to you)
Basic Attributes:
Strength: 9 (+0)
Vitality: 14 (+1) ← Adjusted for survival
Agility: 11 (+3) ← Speed boost for evasion
Dexterity: 12 (+2) ← Sharper strikes
Perception: 14 (+2 from Title)
Willpower: 14 (+0)
Derived Stats:
HP: 140/140
Pain Threshold: Very Low
Regeneration Speed: Slow
Free Stat Points: 0
Class Abilities:
[Absolute Regeneration] (Active/Passive)
→ Current Mastery: 0% (0 recorded uses)
General Skills: None
═══════════════════════════
Stray dismissed the window with a thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips for the first time. *Not bad. Feels... balanced.*
"Goblins sound good," he said finally, meeting Bob's grin. "But we scout first. No rushing."
Bob pumped a fist. "Now you're talking!"
The meadow's peace shattered as they ventured toward the tracks, the grind evolving into something sharper.