The cool morning air hit Lin Feng's face as he stepped outside.
The streets were unusually quiet for this hour, but there was a strange energy in the air—something tense, uncertain.
He zipped up his hoodie and jogged slowly down the sidewalk, eyes scanning the surroundings.
Groups of neighbors stood in little clusters near corners and doorways, voices hushed but excited. Many were gesturing into the air in front of them—pointing at things only they could see.
A young man on a bicycle whizzed by, laughing and holding out his hand as though scrolling through an invisible menu. Nearby, an older woman seemed confused, turning her head from side to side as if trying to make sense of the blue screen hovering before her eyes.
"Did you see the message? They say Earth is safe… for now," Lin Feng overheard someone say.
Another replied: "Yeah, but what about these screens?
Lin Feng jogged past the crowd, ears burning. He didn't stop to talk—not yet. He needed time to think.
It's not just me… or Xiu Xiu… or Mom and Dad. The whole city's changing.
As he ran, the tension in his chest began to ease. The rhythm of his footsteps on the pavement gave him something to focus on, something steady in the midst of chaos.
But everywhere he went, the same scenes repeated: people pointing, arguing, laughing nervously. Some were panicking; others were treating it like a game.
A group of teenagers had gathered near a café, excitedly comparing what they could "see" on their screens. Across the street, a middle-aged man sat on a bench, head in hands, visibly shaken.
The world was upside down.
After several blocks, Lin Feng slowed and entered a small park—a different one from where the Tower had appeared. The usual morning joggers were absent. Instead, people stood around in small groups, their voices echoing softly through the trees.
Lin Feng found a quiet bench under a broad tree and sat, catching his breath.
They said an international task force is forming, he thought. And they'll send another team into the Tower…
But the Tree's words echoed in his mind:
Humanity is safe… for now.
How long would that safety last?
And what would happen when the next team went in?
He flexed his fingers. The memory of the blue screen in his room, of the message from the Tree, burned in his mind.
A gift… but what gift?
He closed his eyes, listening to the wind rustling the leaves above.
Should I go back? Should I wait? What if the leaders waste too much time?
He thought of the soldiers who had entered the Tower before—and never returned.
Then a sharper thought struck him:
If I don't act now… what happens when the next threat comes?
A quiet determination settled in his chest.
Not now—not in broad daylight with the world watching. But tonight, under cover of darkness…
I'll go back.
While Lin Feng was preparing to return to the Tower, the government broadcasted new directives on a continuous loop across every television channel, radio frequency, and online platform. Large screens in public squares and transit stations repeated the same message:
"All individuals currently experiencing the System interface must report immediately to designated government registration centers."
The governments of every country where a Tower had appeared reacted with urgency. The world was facing an unprecedented phenomenon. Overnight, emergency protocols were enacted, and special offices were established in each nation, often inside hastily converted administrative buildings or military facilities. Their sole purpose: to identify and register those individuals who now saw a strange, transparent screen hovering before their eyes.
Publicly, these individuals were now known as "System Holders." The term System had quickly emerged from the online gaming community. Within hours of the first appearances, social media and gaming forums were flooded with comparisons to popular RPGs. Recognizing that this word resonated with a large portion of the population — and hoping to reduce fear and confusion — officials officially adopted the term in all public communications. It was a strategic choice: a known word for an unknown reality.
The government instructions were simple but strict. Anyone experiencing this System interface was required to report to one of the designated centers. Upon arrival, each person had to present a valid government-issued ID — passport, driver's license, or national identification card. After verification, they would be officially registered in a national database.
But why such urgency? Why this sudden mass registration? The answer was clear to those in power: they needed to know who had been chosen — and why.
Was the phenomenon random? Did the Towers select people based on specific traits — age, gender, profession, aptitude, genetics? Were these individuals chosen because of something they had done… or something they would do in the future?
To begin answering these questions, authorities gathered extensive personal data: age, gender, occupation, educational background, health records, criminal history, geographical location, and more. Every detail mattered. Perhaps, within the patterns of this data, the governments might discover clues as to the nature of the selection process. Were gamers more likely to be chosen? Young people? Soldiers? Scientists? Theories were already circulating, but only solid data could reveal the truth.
Beyond intelligence gathering, the registration process served another critical purpose: control. By identifying the System Holders early, the government could monitor any unusual changes — whether individuals disappeared inside the Tower, returned with new abilities, or began exhibiting dangerous behaviors. The System Holders, after all, were not ordinary citizens anymore. They represented a new unknown — both a potential resource and a possible threat.
By early morning, long lines had begun to form outside the registration centers. In cities near the Towers, crowds gathered — some eager, some anxious, others deeply afraid. Police and soldiers were deployed to maintain order. News helicopters hovered overhead. The tension in the air was palpable.
Those with a System were now living a different reality. No longer anonymous members of society, they had become something else — watched, recorded, analyzed. Around them swirled the hopes of humanity… and the fear of the unknown.
A few hours had passed. Lin Feng was now back at home. The house was unusually silent, the only sound coming from the living room where the television repeated the government's emergency broadcasts in an endless loop.
He stood in his room, surrounded by scattered items — some already packed neatly in a small backpack, others still laid out on the bed as he debated what to bring.
Since exiting the Tower, an odd sense of intuition had taken root in his mind. He couldn't explain it — he didn't know what was waiting inside, but somehow, deep down, he felt that certain things might prove useful.
He moved quickly, methodically. A sturdy water bottle. A few energy bars. A flashlight with spare batteries. A compact first-aid kit. A light jacket in case the environment inside the Tower shifted. A small pocketknife. A notebook and pen — in case he needed to document anything. And leaning against the side of the bed — an old aluminum baseball bat.
It wasn't much, but every item was chosen with purpose.
Lin Feng had only glimpsed a fraction of what the Tower held, yet the memories were vivid: the oppressive atmosphere, the towering minotaur-like monster, the strange interface of the System… and the voice — the one that had spoken to him when no one else could.
Shaking the thought away, he resumed packing. There was no time for hesitation. His instincts told him that returning unprepared could be fatal. Even though the Tower seemed to accept his presence the first time, there was no guarantee it would again.
Before closing his bag, Lin Feng glanced around the room one last time. His sister's drawings were pinned to the wall. A worn photograph of his family sat on the desk. For a moment, a pang of unease tugged at his chest.
Am I really ready for this?
But deep down, he knew there was no turning back.
The Towers had appeared, changing the world forever. The questions they posed had no answers — yet. And somehow, he had been pulled into their mystery.
With a final breath, Lin Feng shouldered his bag and picked up the baseball bat, gripping it tightly in his right hand.
Outside, the city was no longer the same. Sirens echoed in the distance. Soldiers patrolled the streets. News vans broadcasted live updates.
And amidst it all, Lin Feng walked with quiet determination. His path was set.
It was time to return to the Tower… one more time.