On a vast, open plain covered in tall brown grasses, a young man lay motionless.
A breeze swept across the field, brushing his face. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing a pair of yellow-brown eyes.
Baam stared up at the sky in awe. He had never seen light like this before. It was beautiful—radiant and strange. But something felt off. The sky was bright… yet no sun hung overhead.
All around him stretched a sea of gold—fields of ripe wheat and aged grass waving gently in the wind. In the far distance, hills and rock formations rolled across the horizon, their slopes soft enough for anyone to climb with ease.
The breeze whispered through the fields, rustling the golden stalks.
Then, a voice rang out.
A booming announcement echoed across the plains, relayed by a floating object suspended in the air.
"Hello, everyone! To all the Regulars who have made it to the Tower… we sincerely welcome you to the 2nd Floor—Evankhell's Floor! Also known as the Floor of Tests, this is where we determine if you're qualified to climb higher."
The voice paused before continuing, "Well, I'll explain the details later! For now, let's start the first test!"
I just got here... but I already have to pass another test... Baam thought, still disoriented as he sat on the ground.
"The first test is simple! Listen carefully to the rules!"
"There are 400 Regulars here. Your task—narrow that number down to 200! By any means necessary! The test ends when only 200 remain."
Baam stiffened, a chill running down his spine. A battle royale...?
He immediately rolled into the tall grass, using its cover to hide. He stayed low, ears sharp, listening.
The metallic clash of weapons echoed nearby, along with the scent of blood carried on the wind. The stench of battle.
He scrambled to his feet—his instincts screamed: Move!
Just in time. A warrior burst from the side, sword crashing down where Baam had just been.
The blade missed. The warrior's expression twisted in irritation.
Before he could strike again, an arrow pierced his chest. He collapsed, lifeless.
Baam didn't wait. He dashed away—
Whoosh!
An arrow skimmed past his head, barely missing him by a second.
He turned toward a distant hill, where he spotted a rough silhouette—someone holding a bow. The archer let loose several arrows into the chaos below.
But then—she was struck down. A sniper's shot from afar.
Moments later, her killer was flung aside by a towering reptilian humanoid.
---
Everyone's ready to kill here.
He kept running, his heart pounding.
Baam's eyes narrowed. He summoned his pocket.
The floating sphere appeared beside him, a vital tool in the Tower. It served many functions: translation, communication, information access. But for Baam, who couldn't speak the native Macsethian tongue, it was essential.
Now, it displayed something else: a countdown.
347... 331... 328...
The number ticked down rapidly.
Deaths reduced to numbers. Names erased. Just losers and failures on a list.
Baam said nothing. He quietly closed the pocket.
He soon found himself near a towering, gray-skinned monster. It hadn't noticed him yet, so he stopped, catching his breath.
"With that awkward stance… you wouldn't even be able to catch a baby rabbit," a voice commented with amusement.
Baam turned to see a boy with blue hair and a bag slung over his shoulder.
The boy smirked. "Relax. That monster won't attack you."
Baam blinked in surprise. "Phew. Thanks for stopping me."
The boy—Khun—sat down beside him. "No problem. But you should be more careful. You can spot those from the Da-an Tribe anywhere in the Tower. Where are you from? How come you don't know that?"
Baam hesitated. "Well… it's hard to explain."
Khun didn't press him. Instead, he smiled. "I see. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
He's the honest type. He could've lied, but he didn't. Khun thought.
Standing up, Khun dusted himself off. "Well then, see you later… if you survive."
"Oh, yeah… thanks," Baam said, still catching his breath.
Khun waved and turned to leave—then suddenly paused. His gaze flicked to something behind Baam.
"Hey," he said, eyes narrowing. "Did you bring a pet with you?"
Baam frowned. "Pet…?"
Khun pointed. "Over there. That big crocodile."
Baam followed his gaze—only to freeze. A towering, reptilian humanoid with dark brown skin and a massive red spear stood behind him, exuding an intimidating presence.
Baam instinctively took a step back.
The creature stepped forward, its deep voice rumbling. "I am not a crocodile. I am the hunter, Rak Wraithraiser!"
Khun smirked. "Wow. A talking crocodile. How much did he cost?"
Rak bristled. "I'm not a crocodile! And I've got no business with you! My prey is that black turtle! So get lost, little white turtle!"
Baam blinked. Me? Why me?
Khun raised an eyebrow. "Why him?"
"To hunt him, of course!" Rak declared, pointing his spear at Baam. "That black turtle is my prey! So back off!"
Khun glanced at Baam, then shrugged. "Well… none of my business. Good luck, kid."
And with that, he turned to leave.
Baam panicked. Wait—he's abandoning me?!
"W-Wait!" He raised his hands in a feeble attempt at reasoning. "Mr. Rak, why do you want to hunt me? I don't taste good."
Rak grinned, gripping his spear. "That weapon of yours… I want to test—"
THUD!
Rak was cut off as a force slammed into him from behind.
"AHHHH!" He let out a startled yell as he crashed to the ground.
Khun stood over him, brushing off his hands. "Run!" he shouted at Baam.
"Oh! Right!" Baam snapped out of his daze and bolted after Khun.
Rak roared as he scrambled to his feet. "You damn little turtles…!"
But when he looked around—
—They were already gone.
---
Elsewhere on the Floor of Tests, a fierce battle unfolded. Two figures collided in a blur—steel flashing beneath the dim, artificial sky.
One was a lizard-like girl, her body sheathed in gleaming green scales. Her eyes were sharp, calculating. With fluid, predatory grace, she spun a long, spear-like staff through the air, each motion precise and deadly.
Her opponent appeared, at first glance, to be an ordinary boy. But his firm grip on his sword and the fire blazing in his eyes said otherwise.
They met midair—weapon clashing against weapon in a burst of sparks. The impact forced both back, skidding across the grass before they recovered, stance steady, eyes locked.
The boy lunged first, his blade sweeping in a wide arc. A gust of air sliced through the tall grass in its wake. But the lizard girl slipped past it effortlessly, moving with speed that defied belief.
In a blink, she countered—her spear thrusting forward like a striking serpent.
The boy barely dodged. The tip grazed past him, close enough to feel.
But she didn't relent. Her attacks came swift and unceasing, driving him back step by step. Each strike was deliberate, her footwork weaving a trap around him.
His frustration boiled over. "Stop running and fight me head-on!" he shouted.
She smirked, unfazed. "Running? I'm just warming up."
They clashed again—spear against sword in a flurry of motion.
The boy attacked with brute force and determination, but she matched him with finesse and speed, evading, parrying, and slipping past his defenses with infuriating ease.
Strike after strike, neither gave ground.
Power met precision. Strength met strategy. And in that balance, neither could break the deadlock.
---
Meanwhile, Khun led Baam toward a cluster of rocks. "Let's hide here until the test ends," he suggested.
Baam nodded, crouching behind the cover. "Ah, okay," he said, trusting Khun's judgment.
Khun shot him a curious glance. "So, why's that crocodile chasing you? Did you do something to piss him off?"
Baam shook his head. "No… he just said he wanted to fight me because of this." He held up the black blade.
Khun's gaze sharpened. His eyes traced the intricate markings on the weapon, his breath hitching.
"...What?" he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That needle… Is that the Black March?"
Baam blinked. "Oh, have you heard of it?"
Khun's usual playfulness vanished, replaced by cold intensity. "Where did you get that? That weapon is a personal treasure of King Jahad, granted only to one of his chosen princesses. Even Rankers spend their whole lives without ever seeing it. How does a clueless Regular like you have it? Who are you?"
Baam hesitated. "It's… complicated."
Khun exhaled, waving a dismissive hand. "Fine, fine. I save your life and don't even get a straight answer. Figures."
Still, his mind raced. Weird. He's too weak to be a Regular. He knows nothing about the Tower… yet he has the Black March? No, wait. It can't be real. It has to be a replica.
But even as he thought it, he couldn't dismiss the possibility that this boy was more than he seemed.
A slow smile tugged at Khun's lips. Interesting… Definitely someone worth keeping close.
Extending his hand, his demeanor shifted back to its usual casual charm. "Khun Aguero Agnes. And you?"
"Twenty-Fifth Baam," Baam answered, shaking his hand.
Khun raised an eyebrow. "Hmm… unusual name." He studied Baam for a moment, then smirked. "Alright, Baam. You probably don't trust me. That's natural—this test is about competing, after all. But I don't care about the rules anymore."
Baam blinked. "Huh?"
Khun grinned. "I've decided—I'm climbing the Tower with you."
Baam stared in shock. "You… want to go up the Tower with me? But I don't know anything, and I'm not strong—I'll just slow you down."
Khun chuckled, completely unfazed. "That's fine. You seem… fun."
---
Then a voice echoed across the battlefield once more.
"Attention all Regulars!"
"Stop fighting! The test is now over! Anyone still fighting after this announcement will be eliminated!"
As the words fell, the entire field seemed to exhale. The chaos died down. The wind returned to a gentle whisper, like waves lapping at a beach.
"Great! Now, on to the next test! To climb the Tower, strength alone is not enough—you must form teams!"
"You have five minutes to form a team of three! Anyone without a full team by the end… will be eliminated!"
"To confirm your team, you must be physically touching your teammates when the time runs out!"
Baam turned to glance at Khun. His eyes grew thoughtful.
Who would be the third?