Heavy Tomtom’s chest heaved with every breath. His eyes scanned the surroundings but he found no respite from the onsught. Broken bodies littered their trail across the sands, human and monster alike. His right arm hung limp from the shoulder down. A long gash across his midsection cut through both his armor and flesh, exposing bone. The sea of artificial stars overhead glowed with all the malice of this pce.

  Those watching from the outside felt The Tower’s grip firmly on their hearts. With every minute that passed the situation became more dire, more hopeless. The first scouting team fell one by one. Mothers shielded their children's’ eyes from the screen. Some opted to turn off the screen entirely.

  “Why do we even have to clear the tower?” one awakened voice asked. That voice was met with resounding support from his peers. Many questioned if keeping the ‘intruding entities’ from entering their world was worth it. Monsters and beings from other worlds entered through the Gates daily. Many wondered how much damage 15 entities could truly do on a global scale. These thoughts, however, were only prevalent among the awakened communities. The mass of ordinary citizens could only watch in horror and pray.

  To an awakened individual, life in the aftermath of the Fourth Great Gate Disaster was livable—perhaps even enjoyable. But those without access to [The System], without the privilege of mana, would likely sing a different tune. Despite making up 95% of the popution, the unawakened held very little power. The Awakener Association could rewrite ws on a whim. Even an F-rank awakened could fold a Senator in half. In a world where nuclear weapons walked among the people, where a portal could open up at your bedside and drag you away without forewarning, what hope did the ordinary have?

  The world watched a team of mostly S-ranks and A-ranks be torn apart in real time. The Tower seemed to be a portal to death. High-ranked individuals were strategic assets and losing even one was a massive loss. For several hours public sentiment continued to drop. Weaker awakened feared being sent to the tower as sacrifices. No one wanted to die a meaningless death… But then the dawn broke.

  Seven hours passed. Heavy id in a heap of blood and stared up at the sky. The camera fell next to him. His broken shield was stamped into the earth by his feet. Slithering sounds sifted through the sands. He was the st one, the sole survivor, and it seemed that would only be for a few moments more…

  Orange light cut through the starry sky like a sword, severing the stars. The light of dawn arrived. On the screen, Heavy’s eyes could be seen shaking.

  “The snakes are retreating…” he said, his voice wet and rasping. He coughed up more blood. The nub where his right arm had been wiggled. He tried to sit up but couldn’t move. His head tilted to the side and he stared into the camera directly with one eye—the other was carved from his skull in the chaotic battle. There was a moment where he could see his own reflection in the lens. His face rexed. His lips trembled before they curled into a subtle grin.

  “Sorry, Harps—” He stopped mid sentence. His one eye jolted and stared at something, but the camera couldn’t see what. His expression shifted from resignation to pure shock. He reached out with his trembling left hand. The camera’s feed distorted. The video went out first as white bars stretched horizontally across it. The audio cut out after, right as Heavy started to scream. The channel now only showed static.

  Inside a teenage girl’s bedroom id a shattered shackle. White static from a television tuned to a dead channel pyed for an empty room. Two rooms over a pair of EMTs assisted and tried to calm down Betty Tomtom. Her desperate cries couldn’t be understood through her newly broken jaw.

  The sun set. Hana’s team watched it move across the sky with calm eyes. None of them looked at the stream anymore. The heavens bckened and stars appeared, but they weren’t the same artificial ones from Tomtom’s stream. These stars were red and set in pairs, like millions of eyes looking down. The consteltions within those red stars drew a jagged path.

  Hana didn’t smile. Being right didn’t soothe her mood. She bowed towards the inscripted stone.

  “You won't be forgotten, Heavy.”

  Her team bowed with her. They turned and began their long march through the red sand. No snakes appeared. Two hours of walking ter they arrived in front of a long, shimmering gash in space, as if some great being had carved open a path to another world.

  [System Message: Congratutions for reaching the end of the first floor. Rewards are being distributed…]

  Hana’s body glowed blue. The rest of her team glowed white. The measuring devices on their bodies beeped.

  “Mana density increasing in real time,” said one man. “My ability is also being reinforced. 7% delta.”

  “12%”

  “I’m at 4%.”

  “11 here.”

  The rest of the crew reported their gains. Soon, all eyes turned towards Hana. She looked down at the device mounted on her shoulder and paused.

  “I’m up 31%,” she said. She could feel a storm of unattributed mana flowing in her veins. No seeds involved, no Consteltion to ward off… It was mana that truly belonged to her and her alone.

  Her words were pyed live, unedited on the stream. Heads were raised worldwide. All at once, the earlier hesitance to clear the tower among awakeners vanished like smoke on a windy day. Lower ranked awakeners started to reason that the Tower’s first trial seemed benign if you just stopped and took time to think. Bme started to subconsciously shift onto Heavy’s head for the wipe of the first scouting team.

  Inside the meeting room, Sarah and Alyssa locked eyes. They then looked at all the rest of the people sitting around the table. A nonverbal consensus seemed to be reached.

  “No,” said the Chairman. “We aren’t sure if that reward will be given to everyone or just to the first team to clear the floor. We should wai—”

  “Fuck you, Theo.” Alyssa spped the table. Her retively high magic specs but low physical specs meant it didn’t get damaged. “We’ve already watched Heavy die. I don't pn on just sitting around here. Anyone who wants to come with us, stand up now. Sarah will open a portal to the nearest Tower Gate.”

  “Sit down, Watergss!” The Chairman raised his voice but no one listened to him. The other twelve people in the room were in agreement. They prepared to enter the tower immediately.

  Scale, distracted for a moment, stared off to the side as another dragon talked. Her eyes glowed white but soon returned to normal. She looked up at the table upon realizing that everyone had stopped talking.

  [Good of you to join us again, daughter.] Olimaw managed to ce her magic communication with sarcasm. It was an impressive dispy of skill.

  “Ah. Sorry,” said Scale, her white cheeks turning a shade darker. She looked at the one that had just been speaking and said, “You can start again.”

  [No.] Olimaw crossed her front paws and lounged in her seat. Her tail wagged gently. [Actually this is a good time for you to share. Why don’t you tell them about yourself and your hobbies.]

  “There’s no reason for that—”

  [It is only right. So far these young ones only have my word to go on for this meeting. A child is a serious commitment. I would not want them to enter such a retionship with false understanding of their partner.]

  Scale felt a throbbing behind her eyes. She breathed in deeply through her nose. Her right eye opened a crack. She was struggling to read the expressions of the others at the table. She hadn’t been around other dragons enough. It made her nervous. She didn’t want to appeal to them. She would prefer if they all left on their own once the Tower broke. Her anxiety buzzed like a mass of cicadas.

  “Well,” she said, “why don’t you tell me what you’ve told them, first.”

  [Unnecessary.]

  If Scale were in her human form a vein would have burst on her forehead, but a gnce from her mother cowed that anger. As much as Scale resented this situation, she couldn’t bring herself to act against her mom. She remembered the look in her mother’s eyes on the day she hatched—the expectations, the joy, and a warmth that could dim the sun. Then she remembered her mother’s lonely words from that day as well. A thousand years waiting for a child that left the nest in 16…

  “Ah.” she sighed. A part of her wondered if the best method forward was just to pick one of the suitors and give her mother what she wanted. The thought of being a mother made her stomach twist like a pretzel. All the fears and anxieties that pgued her throughout her life were nothing compared to the weight of becoming a parent.

  She didn’t want to do it.

  Excerpt from ‘The Awakener’s Handbook’, by Nev Daseem.

  Only the awakened can see [System] messages. That accounts for less than 5% of the popution as a whole. In America each css of awakener is about ten times smaller than the preceding one, with the only exception being the bottom rung. The numbers for our country are roughly:

  30 S-ranks

  300 A-ranks

  3000 B-ranks

  30,000 C-ranks

  300,000 D-ranks

  3,000,000 E-F ranks

  And a little over 10,000,000 awakened who are too weak to be ranked.

  There is one S-rank for about every ten-million people. This ratio holds true worldwide. There are only around 700 S-rank individuals in the world. Among them, about 10% have the qualifications to be considered ‘National Power Level’ awakeners. These are the undisputed powers that effectively rule the world. Each of them has the potential to topple nations alone.