Part I: The Dark World
The only sound in the universe was the ragged tearing of breath in a throat.
Huff. Huff. Huff.
A boy ran through the darkness. The stone floor was cold and unforgiving beneath his feet, but he could feel nothing but the terror clawing at his chest. Ahead of him, a sliver of light moved—a girl, running away from the only world he had ever known.
"Rachel!"
He lunged, his fingers brushing the fabric of her dress. He didn't think; he simply desperation made manifest. He threw his weight forward, tackling her to the hard ground.
Thud.
Dust rose in the gloom. The boy, Baam, scrambled up, pinning her down, his eyes wide and frantic. "Rachel! Where… where are you going?!"
The girl, Rachel, looked up at him. Her golden eyes, usually so warm, were filled with a distant, melancholy resolve. She didn't struggle. She simply looked at him with pity.
"I told you, Baam," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm going to the Tower."
Baam froze. The Tower. The myths she told him in the dark.
"If you climb the Tower," she continued, her gaze drifting past him, toward a light manifesting above them, "you can go outside. You can see a blue sky during the day… and a starry sky at night."
"So?" Baam's voice cracked. "Why do you have to go?"
"Because I'm going to climb it." She pushed him gently, sitting up. "Living in this dark world… living in this cave… I can't stand it anymore. I'm sorry, Baam."
The light above them intensified, a blinding, holy white that began to dissolve the shadows of their prison. It washed over Rachel, turning her hair into a halo.
"Please," she said, tears forming in her eyes. "Forget about me."
"No!" Baam screamed. The light was swallowing her. Her body was becoming weightless, drifting upward into the brilliance. "No! You can't, Rachel! Don't go!"
"Goodbye, Baam."
"NO! DON'T GO!"
He clawed at the air, but his fingers grasped only empty light. She was rising, ascending into a place he could not follow.
"IF YOU GO!" Baam roared, his voice tearing his throat, "I WILL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL DEATH!"
The light flared one last time, blinding him, silencing the world.
Creak.
Shut.
The heavy stone gates of the world above slammed shut.
Baam was left alone in the silence. The darkness returned, heavier than before. He lay on the cold stone, his hand outstretched toward a ceiling that was no longer there.
Part II: Headon's Floor
Consciousness returned in waves of confusion.
Baam blinked. The suffocating darkness of the cave was gone. Instead, he was lying on a floor of polished, ancient stone. The air here was different—charged with a strange energy.
He sat up, gasping. "Where… is this?"
He looked around. He was in a colossal hall. The walls were adorned with massive, intricate murals depicting battles, beasts, and legends he didn't recognize. Weird, purple motes of light floated in the air like fireflies.
"Light?" he whispered.
"My, my."
The voice was smooth, cultured, and echoed from the shadows.
"It seems I have a guest."
Baam scrambled backward, clutching the small meat cleaver he had brought from the cave. Emerging from the gloom was a figure of nightmares. It stood twice the height of a man, holding a long golden staff. It had the body of a human, but its face was a smooth, pale mask with no nose or mouth—only a pair of grinning, malicious eyes and long, rabbit-like ears.
"It's been quite a while," the creature said, leaning forward. "It's been such a long time since the door was opened by a guest."
"M-Monster?!" Baam stammered.
The creature spread its arms wide. "I welcome you to the Tower, child."
Baam lowered the knife slightly, confused by the creature's polite tone. "The… Tower?"
"Indeed. My name is Headon," the creature said, bowing theatrically. "I am the Guardian of the lowest floor of the Tower. And you are?"
"I… I am the Twenty-Fifth Baam," the boy answered, his voice shaking.
"My, that is a difficult name to say," Headon mused. "Good. I'll call you Baam for short. Tell me, Baam, why have you entered this Tower?"
Baam's eyes widened. The memory hit him like a physical blow. "I… I followed a girl here! Did you see her? A blonde girl passed by here!"
Headon tapped his staff on the stone floor. "A blonde girl… Hmm. Perhaps. Did you see her? Do you know where she went?"
"Please tell me!" Baam took a step forward, fear replaced by desperation. "I must meet her!"
Headon looked down at the boy, his painted eyes narrowing slightly. "The answer," he said enigmatically, pointing his staff upward, "is always at the top."
"The top?"
"That is the only thing I can tell you," Headon said, his voice taking on a rhythmic, chanting quality. "If you wish to have your answer… if you wish to find her… head to the top."
Headon walked around Baam, his voice weaving a spell of ambition.
"Money. Glory. Absolute power. If you seek abilities and answers that are like magic, head to the top. All of the universe's wisdom, glory, and happiness have been placed at the summit of this Tower."
He stopped and looked directly at Baam.
"However, climbing this Tower is a long, dangerous, and difficult journey."
"I don't care," Baam said instantly. He tightened his grip on the knife. "I don't care what dangers there are. If I can meet her…"
Headon stared at the boy. A slow, terrifying realization seemed to dawn on the Guardian. This boy didn't care about the riches or the power. He was driven by something far more dangerous.
"Good," Headon said softly. "That is a firm resolution. Then, let us see if you have what it takes."
He pointed his staff toward a massive iron gate at the far end of the hall.
"Shall we begin your test?"
Part III: The Ball
"A… test?" Baam asked.
"To determine whether or not you are worthy to go to the next floor," Headon explained. "Every floor holds a test determined by the Guardian. Of course, the difficulty increases with each level. But for the lowest floor, the test is simple."
Headon gestured with a long, spindly finger. "Do you see that?"
Through the bars of the massive gate, in a dark, water-filled chamber, a large black sphere floated near the ceiling.
"That is the 'Ball'," Headon said. "It is a very simple test. If a strong external force hits the Ball, it will pop. Your goal is to go into that steel cage and pop the Ball."
"That's it?" Baam asked. It sounded easy.
"However," Headon added, a cruel amusement creeping into his voice. "You must introduce yourself to the roommate currently occupying the cage."
Rumble.
The water in the cage churned. From the darkness, something massive shifted. Two glowing red eyes, the size of carriage wheels, ignited in the gloom.
Baam froze.
A monster.
It was a White Steel Eel. It was a leviathan of muscle and armor, its scales glistening like wet iron. It let out a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the floor and into Baam's bones. It was the size of a train, and it was looking right at him.
"This is breeding season," Headon noted casually, as if discussing the weather. "It hasn't eaten in a month. It is incredibly violent right now."
Baam's knees began to shake. The sheer scale of the beast paralyzed him. He was a boy with a kitchen knife. That was a god of death.
"My, that's a problem," Headon whispered, leaning close to Baam's ear. "Are you afraid? Of that monster?"
Baam couldn't speak. His breath came in short, terrified gasps.
"It is unfortunate," Headon sighed. "But if you cannot pass this test, you cannot go to the next level. And if you cannot go to the next level…"
Headon paused, letting the silence hang heavy.
"…Then you won't be able to find the girl you are looking for. Perhaps you will never meet her again."
The words cut through Baam's fear sharper than any blade.
Never see her again?
The image of Rachel smiling in the darkness flashed through his mind. She was his light. She was his everything. A world without her was not a world worth living in.
"Think logically, child," Headon purred. "For you to pop that ball is nearly impossible. To attempt this now is simply suicide. That monster is fast and nimble in the water. You will be eaten before you take ten steps."
Headon's voice dripped with false sympathy.
"Rather than trying the impossible and dying… would it not be logical to just forget about her? Forget about her, and live?"
Baam lowered his head. His bangs shadowed his eyes. His body stopped shaking.
"Forget her?"
Baam gripped the handle of his cleaver until his knuckles turned white. The fear was still there, pounding in his heart, but it was being drowned out by a different emotion. A singular, consuming need.
He didn't look at Headon. He didn't look at the murals of glory and power. He looked only at the cage.
Without a word, Baam stepped forward.
"Oh?" Headon's eyes widened.
Baam broke into a run. He sprinted toward the iron bars, toward the water, toward the gaping maw of the White Steel Eel. He ran toward death, because death was preferable to loneliness.
Headon watched the boy charge into the abyss. The Guardian's thin lips curled up, stretching wide into a horrific, delighted grin.
Keh keh.
"I sincerely welcome you to the Tower," Headon whispered to the darkness.
"Boy."
The black water erupted. The White Steel Eel lunged, a mountain of muscle and rage descending upon a single, fragile boy. Baam didn't flinch. He tightened his grip on the rusted cleaver, the only barrier between him and oblivion.
He had chosen this path for her. Now, facing a monster of the depths with nothing but a kitchen knife, Baam was about to find out if love was enough to survive the impossible.
The jaws opened. The test had begun.