Freddy returned home from yet another long day of classes, full of energy, yet beat at the same time.
It would be a night like many others—infuriatingly short.
It was already quite late, and he had to be back for class in just about four hours. He’d long gotten accustomed to bare minimum sleep, but the lack of time to just exist in peace was seriously starting to wear on him.
“You’d think a century alone would be enough for a lifetime…” He collapsed into the couch, releasing a deep sigh. “Maybe I should go for an actual vacation somewhere when I reach the third star.” He snorted. “Perhaps a retreat to a desolate floating island or something.”
He afforded himself about fifteen minutes of staring at the ceiling before sitting upright, pulling out his trusty notebook, and getting his pen ready for some brainstorming.
There were several things Freddy needed to do before ascending to the third star.
First, he had to finish healing his soul.
Second, he had to both recover his physique and maximize its potential with the help of all the stuff his alchemy team will prepare for him.
Third…
He took a long, deep breath as he jotted it down.
CLEAR THE TOWER OF YORK.
Just recently, his Extreme Anomalies class finally started—taught by Wisdom, bless its heart—and Freddy got some interesting information.
The best thing about Wisdom that it didn’t give a single flying fuck about politics. It was there to spread wisdom, and whether said wisdom was supposed to be private information or controversial was none of its concern.
The Extreme Anomalies class was mostly about Wisdom ratting high-level factions out and sharing what kinds of cool dungeons they were keeping to themselves.
It was becoming increasingly clear that nobody had told wisdom to teach at the university. It was simply impossible to stop it.
There was no concrete definition for what made an anomalous passage realm “extreme.” It simply boiled down to being far out of the ordinary. The Century of Solitude, for example, was an extreme anomaly.
And so was the Tower of York.
The Tower of York was one of those things everyone knew about but few understood. Those who actually knew how it worked didn’t care much to share that information with the masses. Thankfully, there were plenty of imbeciles ready to fill that void by making shit up.
Before taking the Extreme Anomalies class, Freddy only knew a few things for sure about the Tower of York.
It contained a series of a hundred trials. People could only delve there once per star. Each higher star could hold fewer contestants. The trials got harder with each subsequent one, but also, granted better rewards. For some reason, those who entered first had an advantage.
And that was about it.
As for the rest, it was borderline impossible to separate fact from fiction, so he had taken all other information with a massive grain of salt.
Thankfully, Wisdom was there to clear things up. As always.
The key aspect of the tower that put all the pieces together was how the trials worked.
Before every trial, there was a hub. The hub consisted of an empty chamber with a large wall on the other side, a wall that contained a series of doors. The number of doors started at the number of contestants plus one, with the plus one being an exit door. Each door led to a trial, and then afterwards, another hub. Each hub had one door fewer, until only one trial, and one exit door remained.
And every time someone entered a door, that door disappeared.
The doors in question were not made equal. There were six different kinds of doors, differentiated by color.
The three most common kinds of doors were the blue, green, and red door. Rarer ones were purple, gold, and black.
Every hub had an entirely random sequence of doors.
Depending on which door a trial-taker took, they would be sent to a drastically different kind of trial.
Blue doors held a puzzle trial.
Green doors held an environmental trial.
Red doors held a combat trial.
Purple doors held a “boss fight”.
Golden doors simply handed out a reward, no trial attached.
And black doors held an entirely random kind of trial, one where the difficulty was amplified to an extreme degree.
Now, given that the number of doors continued to reduce with each following floor, it was inevitable that each floor would result in at least one contestant being kicked out. But that wasn’t the only reason why getting in first was important.
The sequence of doors was random, but not… random random. The tower seemed to throw out specific patterns at times, which could seriously shaft those who were lagging behind. It wasn’t uncommon for a relatively early floor to throw out ninety percent black doors, and ten percent golden, for example.
Even in less extreme cases, being fast mattered. The trials weren’t made equal in difficulty, and they certainly weren’t equal in regards to how quickly they could be taken.
Blue trials were the easiest kind of trial, generally speaking, but they could be a serious pain in the ass to figure out. Green trials were also generally rather safe, but the environmental aspect very often included vast distances as part of the trial. Red trials were mostly rather fast, as the completion time depended on speed of killing. Purple trials were the fastest, but a big fight against one powerful opponent was considered too much of a drain to be worth it most of the time. And black trials were simply too dangerous.
It was also important to note that the different kinds of trials rewarded different skillsets. Green trials were fantastic for anyone who could easily traverse rough terrain. Blue trials were awesome for nerds. Someone like Freddy would prefer red or purple.
The faster one was, the more likely it was that they would get to choose a favorable trial.
For the vast majority of trial-takers, the expectation wasn’t to be the one who went the furthest, but to be one of the ones who actually survived and got a decent reward.
Even Freddy wasn’t exactly confident he’d be making it past the fiftieth trial.
At the first star, there were a hundred runners, and thus, the trial started with a hundred doors. This was a pretty forgiving setup, making it so that many could perform comfortably without running out of doors, usually only leaving once they felt they couldn’t safely keep going.
At the second star, there was only one door left at the fiftieth floor. It went back up to three after that, apparently, but only one person could actually make it past the fiftieth floor on any given day.
Freddy was powerful. But it wouldn’t take much to screw him over. One wrong step, and he would be set back. One unlucky hub—like all the doors being blue, for example—would take away his greatest advantage of being able to brute force the other kinds of trials.
And there was the other problem.
Killing wasn’t allowed, per se, but who exactly could enforce such a rule? It wasn’t uncommon for two contestants to find themselves entirely alone in the hub. Who exactly was supposed to report the murder if nobody even knew who did it?
Quietly, the factions accepted that such things might happen, and rarely sought revenge.
Rarely, but not never.
Freddy wasn’t afraid of getting himself killed.
No.
Leaning back, he released another breath, pinching his brow as he worked to calm himself.
Before his eyes flashed a scene: a contestant ahead of him, one door left. If he let them take the doors, he would lose his one-and-only chance to make the most of the tower at the second star. And if he attacked—
Groaning, he got to his feet, walking over the window.
The city sprawled out before him, denser and denser each and every day. The sky above was getting crowded. During the day, the sunlight was getting thin. At night, the flashing of lights was becoming a headache. The sheer volume of skyscrapers was making it hard to even see the dome in any given direction.
The Tower of York gave out rewards in the golden rooms and at the very end, whenever the trial-runners left the tower. Everything it gave out was both personalized and useful. Always useful.
The highest floor anyone had ever reached was floor eighty-eight, at the one-star category. That person did so seven years ago, and then, two years later, died at the hands of an angry Lord.
At the second star, the highest record was eighty-two. At third, seventy-five. Fourth, a mere sixty. Fifth, forty, but most Overlords hadn’t taken the trial, since it was usually best done right before ascending.
Nobody had ever completed the tower. Ever.
Freddy wasn’t sure if he could do it, either. But he felt he had a pretty good chance. Probably. Maybe not, but at the very least, he had a good shot at breaking the two-star record.
Regardless, even if he fell well short of that lustrous goal, he’d get something pretty incredible. It wasn’t an opportunity he would squander.
Suddenly, his eyes focused away from the cityscape before him, and on his reflection in the mirror. By the look in his eye, he knew.
There was a possibility he would kill someone to get ahead. Just to get ahead. Someone’s life, traded for power. Nothing more; nothing less.
Sighing, he leaned his forehead against the glass. “What do I do…?”
Part of him didn’t want to even put himself in the temptation to do that. The tower was a messed up place, and the way it was designed brought the worst out of people. And the worst of Freddy was bad. He knew it was bad. Even as he mulled it over, he could sense his mind working to rationalize such a choice.
Whoever entered the tower had to be prepared to die in just such a manner. And many would, no doubt, also be prepared to kill. But did that make it right? It didn’t feel right at all. Thor’s voice yet again sounded in his mind, but it was muted—distant.
Raising his hand, he made the platinum card appear. It felt unspeakably heavy in his grasp. Such a small modifier of currency, yet, so much potential power. “How long have I been making choices that have been bringing me closer to this result?”
Some said that the average adult made as many as 35,000 choices each and every day.
Through the influence of his cursed fate born of his desire for power, those decisions always brought him closer and closer to conflict, to pain, and suffering, and death. And yet, he couldn’t rid himself of that desire. It just continued to fester, rotting, hollowing him out.
He looked outside yet again, the madness of the city louder than any light lit or noise sounded.
His time at Starhold had been relatively peaceful. Now, he couldn’t help but feel like it was due to his soul damage. Had it suspended, or perhaps weakened his cursed fate? Regardless, once the healing was finished, he would be right back to making choices that would bring him right into trouble. Most likely, he was already doing just that.
Returning to the couch, he pulled the notebook out again. “Aight, what of fuckening will it be this time?”
It was bound to happen. He didn’t for a moment believe that he would be allowed to ascend to the third star in peace.
Sure, he had the Umbra clan’s theoretical protection, but he wasn’t sure how much they would actually do. Odds were, the fuckening would find a way to happen anyway, so he would act as if they didn’t exist.
He quickly jotted down possible problems he might face.
While in Starhold, he was safe. Mostly. The world wouldn’t bend over backwards to send a massive monster to the city just to spite him—it was his choices that would create the trouble. “So what kinds of choices did I make…?”
Well, he had moved to Starhold. That was one. God knew how many people he’d pissed off with his existence alone by doing that.
There were a few people he could possibly end up getting into a fight with. That asshole that falsely accused him of having fake badges came to mind. But he hadn’t really caused any trouble for Freddy since then, and lately, he even seemed to be specifically avoiding him. Odds were, he probably wasn’t looking for any more trouble, but Freddy kept him in mind just in case.
David Asshat also came to mind. “Shit, I wish I knew that guy’s real name…” He’d at least be able to inquire about him a bit. Regardless, he went on the list.
There was also the snake and the other snake. He hadn’t heard of them in a long while, so they were likely still stuck in the Northern Belt somewhere, but he wouldn’t put it past them to pop up at the worst time imaginable.
“Sophia…”
He scratched her name off the list. He didn’t want to believe that they would end up at odds with each other. It was too painful to think about.
Gulping, he also added Lord Leonard Santorio to the list. That guy maybe, likely, possibly wanted him dead. Freddy did kill his son. There were also Jacob’s brothers and sisters, who may or may not also want him dead.
“Who else… Right, Pale Moon and the Severe clan… They might want to cut off the possibility of me ever competing with their organ trade. Then, some of Umbra’s enemies, maybe. Anyone who felt threatened by the research I was funding, surely. Some who might be against the expansion of the Northern Belt…” He was starting to sweat. “This list is getting kind of long.”
Freddy didn’t want to ascend without trying his luck at the Tower of York first.
But it was a bit of a trip between Pittersville and Nova York. A trip where he’d be travelling across vast stretches of uninhabited land. All by himself. Far from settlements, safety, or witnesses.
“Someone is absolutely going to try to kill me on my way there.”
His lips pulled back, revealing something between a smile and a snarl. “Bring it on.”