I open my eyes. We’re in a circular room with dull gray stone walls, lit by torches crackling on a badly looped audio track. The floor is tiled, cold, and dusty. It’s the most generic dungeon decor I’ve ever seen. Looks like a free asset downloaded from the Unreal Engine Store.
Chris is shaking like a leaf, his legendary bag seemingly weighing a ton on his shoulders. Right next to him, Kim is stone-cold, checking her rifle’s scope like she’s in her own living room.
I look at her with open disgust. I let out a loud sigh, just so she clearly understands she isn’t welcome.
“A kid, fine, I can handle that. Especially when it’s my nephew. He’s family, I accept the contract. But dragging along some tourist who thinks she’s in an FPS with her twenty-buck skin? That’s too much. You think this is Comic-Con? We don’t need to carry an influencer.”
My words are harsh, but necessary. Look at us. We’re the System’s rejects. With my trash class, I’m barely keeping Chris in one piece. Relying on a Garbage Man as a frontline is suicide. Any other party would give her better survival odds. I can’t have a death on my conscience.
Kim doesn’t even look up from her weapon. She works the bolt with a sharp, satisfying click.
“Keep talking, old man. If you’re as useful with that shovel as you are with your mouth, we might actually make it. But stay out of my line of fire. I don’t waste mana on allies… unless they’re being really annoying.”
Chris steps in, hands raised, playing peacekeeper. “Wait, Uncle Ben! You’ve got her all wrong. Kim is a real Long Range Shooting champion! She’s been winning competitions. She’s really incredible!”
I raise an eyebrow.
Kim gives him a sharp, blue-lipped smirk. She shoots Chris an almost tender look. “Thanks, Chris. I see you’re a real fan. At least one person in this group has taste.”
Before I can fire back a snide remark, a dull vibration shakes the room. A giant holographic window appears in the center of the area, rotating slowly so everyone can read it.
[Welcome to the Tower of Destiny]
[Architecture]: 100 Floors.
[Progression]: Difficulty is incremental. Monsters range from Level 1 (Floor 1) to Level 100 (Summit).
[Warning]: Do not rely solely on level. Monsters possess unique Attributes. Two visually identical goblins can have radically different abilities. Use your [Analyze]! Note: Simply think the word to activate it.
[Boss Structure]: A Guardian (Boss) protects access to every 5 floors.
[Core Mechanic]: Boss stats are fixed. They do not scale with the number of participants. Note: Being in a team significantly reduces the difficulty.
[Loot Economy] Normal Monsters: Abysmal drop rate (0.01%). Tier Bosses: 100% drop rate for the First Kill. The rate drops drastically for subsequent groups. Conclusion: The first to arrive get the best gear.
I skim through the rules. A short laugh escapes me. “Boss stats are fixed. That’s unfair for solo players, but it’s perfect for us. The System is forcing cooperation to crush the lone wolves.”
As soon as I finish my sentence, a new section appears at the bottom of the holographic window, framed by a silver border.
[Ascension Aid: The Guides]
[Location]: Neutral entities called “Guides” are present in every Safe Zone (accessible after clearing a floor).
[Function]: The Guide is your source of knowledge. They will explain the deep mechanics of this world (Stat System, hidden features…).
[Knowledge Restriction]: Information is fragmented. A Guide only delivers one major lesson per floor. Knowledge is Power. The higher you climb, the more Power you have.
I roll my eyes reading the last line. “Great. The game manual is sold separately. They chopped up the tutorial into a hundred pieces to force us to climb. If we want to know how magic works, we’re gonna have to visit them one by one.”
But the text keeps scrolling, revealing a clause in flashing crimson that looks like a legal warning from hell.
[Silence Protocol (Divine NDA)]
[Restriction]: Secrets revealed by the Guides are tied to the floor reached. It is strictly forbidden to disclose this information to GodRunners who haven’t cleared the corresponding floor. This rule is absolute and applies everywhere, whether you are inside the Tower or back on Earth.
[Example]: A GodRunner from Floor 50 cannot reveal information obtained from the Floor 50 Guide to a GodRunner who has only cleared 10 floors.
[Penalty]: Any attempt at disclosure (spoiling) will result in the Immediate Execution of the offender. Information is a privilege of ascension.
I whistle through my teeth. “Nice vibe. It’s a competitive omerta. The ones in front keep a monopoly on knowledge to make sure the ones behind stay noobs. A damn Ponzi scheme with a gun to your head. If you want to know how to survive, you’ve got no choice, you have to climb. But once you’re up there, you can’t reach back and help anyone. It’s brilliantly cruel.”
Chris stares at the red system message, eyes wide, as if he just watched Santa Claus get sniped. “But that’s… that’s horrible!” he whispers. “Does that mean we can’t help anyone? If we find a trick to survive, we have to keep it to ourselves? We just have to let others die without saying a word?”
“Welcome to the real world, kid,” I reply coldly. “Altruism is a luxury we can’t afford here. The System wants competition. If you help your neighbor, you’re cheating.”
Suddenly, a new list appears next to the rules. It’s a scoreboard glittering with gold, displaying the legends who have marked the history of the Tower across the civilizations of the universe.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
[Multiversal Hall of Fame] Current Record (All Civilizations):
- Leonardo da Vinci (Civilization A-741) — Floor 73
- Buddha (Civilization Union) — Floor 73
- Odin (Civilization Asgard) — Floor 71
- The Cartographer (Civilization Maps) — Floor 71
- Tom Sawyer (Civilization Mississippi) — Floor 71
- Loki (Civilization T-141) — Floor 69
- Adam (Civilization Eden) — Floor 67
- Zeus (Civilization Olympus) — Floor 66
- Billy The Kid (Civilization V-233) — Floor 65
- Arthur Pendragon (Civilization X-457) — Floor 64
I stare at the list, an incredulous sneer twisting my mouth. “What kind of nonsense is this?” I blurt out. “Leonardo da Vinci is in first place? The painter?”
My finger slides down to number four and I actually have to look twice. “The Cartographer? Seriously? A little kid with a backpack? What’d she do? Ask the Map ‘Where’s the exit?’ and the Tower opened its doors out of pity? Or did she just scream ‘Swiper, no swiping!’ at the Boss until he had a nervous breakdown?”
Chris is staring at the board, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull. “It’s incredible… We’re competing with historical figures and gods! King Arthur made it all the way to Floor 64!”
I take a step back and give the whole leaderboard a look of pure, concentrated bullshit-detection. “This System just sucked up every public domain character so it wouldn’t have to pay royalties. It’s an asset flip on a cosmic level.”
A vibration ripples through the floor, followed by a new red notification flashing in the center of the room.
[Alert]: Dungeon doors opening and monster spawning in 10 minutes.
[Advice]: Check your equipment and synergies.
Kim racks her rifle, the metallic sound echoing sharply. She turns to us, one eyebrow arched. “Alright. We’ve got ten minutes to set a strat. So, Mister ‘Uncle Ben’, what’s the play? What are your classes and skills? I need your cooldowns and roles.”
I close my eyes for a second, leaning on the handle of my shovel. “Chris has the Porter class. And I’m a Garbage Man.”
“Ha! Not bad. ‘Porter’ and ‘Garbage Man’. That’s a good one to lighten the mood. I like your humor, it’s very… meta. Come on, for real. What is it? Tank? Warrior? Rogue?”
I don’t answer. I just open my interface and set my info to public for the group. Chris does the same, looking a bit hesitant.
Kim’s laugh dies in her throat. Her eyes dart back and forth between our stats and our faces. “Wait… This isn’t a joke?”
“It’s written in black and white,” I say, pointing at the screen. “Rank: Trash.”
Kim takes a step back, looking completely lost. “But… that’s impossible. My Sponsor told me to follow you! He said: ‘Follow the anomaly, it’s the fastest path to the top.’ How can you have such trash classes? The lowest rank is Common!”
Chris straightens his back, proudly puffing out his chest. All his despair seems to have vanished just by being in the girl’s presence. “It’s because we’re beta testers! These classes were created just for us by the System itself! It’s a unique honor!”
I facepalm, unable to deal with that level of blinding optimism. They say love is blind, but in his case, it looks more like a total system crash of the brain. “Stop it, Chris. Please. You’re bragging about being the crash-test dummy for a car with no brakes.”
Kim shakes her head, trying to rationalize the situation like a pro-gamer. “Okay. Okay. Let’s calm down. ‘Anomaly’ could mean anything. Let’s look at the skills. Even a trash class can have a broken skill if you know how to use it. Let’s see what you’re made of.”
She leans over my display.
[Ben’s Skills - Garbage Man]
- [Observation of the Useless] (Active): Allows detection of all objects considered “trash” or “worthless” by the System within a 10-meter radius. Note: Reveals hidden objects, usable debris, and recycling components.
“Great,” Kim comments sarcastically. “You’ve got a garbage radar. We’re gonna be rich in tin cans.”
“Don’t underestimate it,” I reply, narrowing my eyes. “If I find a sharp piece of scrap metal that no one else sees, it becomes a dagger. In a world where everything is broken, the guy who sees the spare parts is king.”
- [Recycling] (Active): Allows the destruction of an object. The object is converted into raw energy. Gain: Attributes, HP, or MP, depending on the nature of the object. Restriction: Only works on ownerless or abandoned objects.
- [Public Nuisance] (Active): Releases a foul odor in an area around the user. Tactical Effect: Causes [Stun], [Nausea], or [Repulsion] on creatures with a sense of smell. Bonus: Effectiveness increases with the user’s filthiness.
Kim looks like she just bit into a lemon made of garbage. “Are you serious? Your ‘ult’ is to stink? You’re a walking stink bomb?”
“It’s Crowd Control, kid. Monsters expect the smell of blood, not a landfill in the middle of August. I can make ‘em puke, make ‘em run, or mask our own scent. I’m the king of olfactory camouflage.”
Kim sighs, unconvinced, and turns to Chris’s window.
[Chris’s Skills - Porter]
- [Logistical Resilience] (Passive): Grants exceptional resistance to physical and mental fatigue related to load and stress. Bonus: Partial immunity to exhaustion during prolonged farming sessions.
“That’s the engine,” I say, pointing to the line with a new sense of respect. “That means he can run for 29 days without sleeping as long as he’s got a load on his back. This kid’s a walking nuclear reactor.”
- [Minor Interception] (Active): Allows the instant use of an item from the inventory to intercept an attack aimed at an ally. Cost: The item used is destroyed. The hit is canceled. CD: 1 hour.
I whistle, impressed.
- [Equipment Cleaning] (Passive): Any equipment handled or stored by the user is instantly cleaned, polished, and maintained. Reduces wear and tear by 50%.
“Do you realize what that means, kid?” I ask. “In a 100-floor dungeon, equipment durability is the worst enemy. Swords that snap during a boss fight, armor that cracks… You, you cut that risk in half. You’re saving us thousands of gold coins in repairs. You’re a mobile repair shop. A warrior with a broken sword is a corpse. Thanks to you, we’ll always stay sharp.”
Kim rubs the bridge of her nose. She looks like she’s regretting every life choice she’s ever made. “I’ve got a team made up of a radioactive hobo and a glorified luggage handler. My Sponsor was messing with me. This can’t be happening.”
She swipes the air and brings up her own window to shut us up.
[Kim’s Skills – Screaming Sentry]
- [Chaos Ballistics] (Passive): Shots ignore 20% of the target’s Armor. Bonus: Grants a massive precision and critical damage bonus if the target is unaware of the shooter’s presence.
“That’s for the One-Shot,” she says coldly. “I see something, it dies before it even hears the gunshot.”
While she’s talking, I glance at Chris. He’s supposed to be impressed, but he isn’t even looking at Kim’s screen. He’s in his own little bubble. He’s reopened his own menu on the sly and his fingers are moving frantically in the void, tapping invisible buttons with a suspicious amount of focus. He’s sticking his tongue out a bit, totally absorbed in his tweaking.
Suddenly, he feels the weight of my gaze. He freezes mid-air, caught red-handed. He turns his head toward me and hits me with a look like a dog caught eating trash, eyes darting everywhere. He hunches his shoulders, hastily swiping his window away with a panicked wave.
I narrow my eyes, wondering what the hell he was messing with in the settings. Did he change the language to Korean? Did he delete his mini-map? I don’t have time to grill him, though. Kim is still going through her presentation.
- [Rupture Cry] (Active – Special Shot): Fires a projectile charged with sonic energy. On impact, generates a shockwave that stuns the target for 1 second and knocks it back violently.
“Crowd control,” she explains. “If something too big gets close, I send it back to its mother or stun it so you guys can… well, do your weird stuff with your shovels and your bags.”
- [Sniper’s Eye] (Passive): Increases effective range by 200%. Removes natural body tremors and fatigue penalties while aiming.
“I can hit a target two kilometers away without blinking. I’m your long-distance life insurance.”
I look at her stats, then mine. There’s a world of difference. She’s built to kill. I’m built to pick up the trash after the massacre.
“Well,” I say, putting my shovel back on my shoulder and giving one last suspicious look at Chris, who’s pretending to stare at the ceiling with total innocence. “We’ve got a sniper, a logistics-tank who tweaks his menus in secret, and a recycler.”
I sigh. “On paper, it’s the jankiest team in history. But skills are just the surface of the ‘build’. In a real RPG, power is a complex equation. There’s the ‘gear’, the attributes we’re gonna ‘min-max’, the ‘exploits’ we’re gonna unlock, and the broken ‘titles’ we’re gonna snatch from the System. We’ve got shitty classes? Who cares. We’ll make up for it with everything else.”
A dull vibration ripples through the floor.
[Time remaining before opening: 00:00:10]