Aelion stood tall, his blade trembling faintly in his hand.
His body was battered. His stamina frayed. His nerves stretched thin.
But he was still ready to fight.
And yet…
No attack came.
Instead, there was silence—deep, humming, weighty.
Then, he heard the dragon's voice once more.
Even more overwhelming than before.
It wasn't laced with bloodlust this time… but with something heavier.
Pride. Age. Reflection.
As soon as Aelion heard the tone, he relaxed ever so slightly.
It's not going to attack me... Not like this.
It's too prideful. Too ancient. It doesn't strike without cause.
He straightened his stance, adjusting his grip, and finally asked:
"What do you want?"
The massive eye, still half-shrouded in the swirling dust, remained unmoving—lost in thought.
The voice came again, softer this time, almost a rumble of contemplation:
"A Seed-Class... defeated by a mere Fragmented-Class... despite the gulf in power…"
The words sounded less like speech and more like a god mumbling to itself, trying to understand something profound.
Minutes passed.
Five, by Aelion's count.
Finally, the eye blinked once—slowly—before the voice became clear and direct:
"You have cleared the game."
"Nytherra will open soon. It is a larger battlefield… more real than anything you've ever faced. Now—choose your reward for completing this world."
The dust began to settle.
In front of Aelion, a faint golden interface flickered into view, glowing softly in the dim chamber.
And above it, only one line pulsed with quiet finality:
[Select Your Reward:
[You have been offered three choices:]
OR
OR
Aelion's eyebrow rose slightly.
The developers of this game were mysterious, to say the least.
The game had appeared out of nowhere.
No announcement.
No marketing campaign.
No early-access program or closed beta.
Just one day, there it was—buried in an obscure corner of the net.
And yet, like a spark on dry grass, it had ignited something massive.
It grew like wildfire, its name spreading across forums, communities, and digital circles almost overnight.
People didn't even know what to call it at first.
"That new VR combat sim?"
"The deathloop game?"
"The one with the dungeon floors and respawn penalties?"
Eventually, they settled on a name drawn from the login screen: Tower.
Players were drawn in by its hyperrealism, its freedom, and its brutal lack of hand-holding.
There were no tutorials, no quest guides, no minimaps.
You learned by dying.
And most players did.
Again. And again. And again.
There were no beta testers. No streamers granted early access.
Even the company behind the game remained faceless.
People speculated, of course. Theories filled the forums.
Some said it was a military experiment.
Others claimed it was an AI-generated world made to trap people.
Some thought it wasn't a game at all.
Aelion didn't care.
He hadn't joined for fame or rankings.
He came because he wanted to escape the world outside.
And in doing so… he beat the game.
Or so he thought.
Now, he stood here—blood still drying on his skin, heart slowing after a battle that could have ended him a dozen times—and a system message floated in front of him like a reward screen after a tutorial.
Three choices.
His fingers twitched, but he didn't move yet.
He took a slow breath and began to analyze them one by one.
The first option:
This was the most surprising.
Given how fiercely the developers had guarded the game's inner workings, how not even data miners had cracked anything useful…
This reward shouldn't exist.
And yet here it was. Offered to him.
Why?
He had no idea what Nytherea truly was.
No one did. The word had appeared only once before—in the faint whispers of players who had passed Floor 70 and started receiving garbled system messages filled with corrupted characters and redacted names.
Aelion had remembered it.
And now it was real.
If this reward is being shown to me, that means… they're watching.
That means I passed a threshold no one else has.
He let his finger hover over it for a moment… but didn't click yet.
Instead, he turned to the next option.
This would be the most popular choice among professional players.
Why?
Because their progress had been public.
Streamed, documented, analyzed by their communities.
Everyone knew the exact steps they took to reach their class.
And in the upcoming game world, those paths could be repeated by thousands.
A strong start, guaranteed power, and a large following.
But Aelion?
He had no followers.
No fanbase.
No one even knew he existed.
Because I didn't show them. I didn't need to.
The way he unlocked his class—Vengeful Berserker—was so specific, so punishing, that no one else would willingly take the same path.
You had to let the same monster kill you 100 times in a row,
respawning after each death, going back, and dying again.
Each time, you lost gear, stats, ranking points.
Each time, the game made it harder to return.
And yet, he did.
Because he had nothing else.
The game didn't just reward strength—it rewarded obsession.
So no… he wouldn't pick this either.
There would be no one walking the same road.
And he wasn't about to tie himself to a path built from pain when a new world was opening up.
Then there was the third option:
Too vague. Too unknown.
There were rumors that some rare titles granted immunity to debuffs,
others that let you bend the rules of death itself.
But there were also titles that did nothing. Vanity achievements.
Empty names.
Risky.
Unpredictable.
No guarantee it would benefit him in the real game.
But still…
He clicked on it without hesitation.
It wasn't logic.
It wasn't analysis.
It was instinct.
Aelion had been playing this game not like a player chasing optimization,
but like a survivor learning to live in it.
He trusted that instinct now.
He made his choice.
[You have selected: ]
The system screen flickered.
A new line appeared—one that made his heart skip for just a moment.