TOWER OF GOD FANFIC — CHAPTER 3
"The Rookie Wall Test"
Scene 1 — Six Hours and a Mistake
Jumping to attention as my eyes scan the unfamiliar environment.
A grassland that looks like it was drawn by a bored god.
Floating castles and cities hang in the sky like someone forgot to turn gravity back on.
I flex my fingers, checking my body over, testing each joint and tendon. Everything's intact.
A thought toward the dragon-shaped ring and a familiar weight slips into my hand — a black trench coat. I swing it over my shoulders in one smooth motion, then tap the ring again and send Yuri's book back into storage.
No reason to advertise my worst decisions.
"Welcome to the Floor of Tests. This is the test area for Rookies,"
a mechanical-sounding voice booms from a floating speaker that blinks into existence overhead.
"To start off, you'll need to survive for six hours. Beginning now."
The voice cuts.
The world answers with screaming.
Steel, Shinsu, feet pounding the grass… the usual.
I yawn.
"Six hours, huh? Cute."
Taking a seat on a large rock, I stretch my legs out and let my energy bleed into the ground — not Shinsu, not Ki, just my own sense stretching out like an echolocator.
Sound and motion curl around me in a loose map:
A spear user getting mobbed by three idiots.
A wave controller trying to chant and losing his head mid-sentence.
Packs forming, breaking, dying.
Rookies fighting like rookies: too loud, too desperate, too hopeful.
With the only things missing being snacks and wine, it's almost peaceful.
The sun crawls a little across the sky. Good enough timer.
I stay on my rock.
Watch. Listen. Wait.
Then I notice it — a pattern in the noise.
Not random fighting.
A path.
Bodies falling in a straight line.
"…There they go again."
A group of three is moving across the field, not stumbling like the others, but carving a route. Wherever they pass, things go quiet.
I focus there.
Three figures in matching robes at first glance.
The front line is all muscle:
A big guy built like a fortress, fists wrapped, Shinsu clinging around him like a faint haze. He's not just strong — his movements are drilled. Someone actually trained this one.
To his side, a slim figure with a different rhythm in her steps.
Her hood flutters for a second and I catch it — Zahard princess aura. That arrogance doesn't need a crest to be recognized. The way she walks says she's never heard the word "no" and believed it applied to her.
Behind them, half-shadowed, walks the quiet problem.
Smaller frame.
Hood pulled low.
Steps too careful.
Eyes never on the enemy — always on the battlefield.
She doesn't swing.
Doesn't shout.
Doesn't help.
She just watches them do the dirty work.
The bodies they leave behind aren't just dead.
They're clean kills. Efficient. No wasted motion.
"Everyone in the fight besides that one is top-tier talent," I murmur, watching the hooded one. "And she's the only one who walks like she's never thrown a punch."
Of course they head straight toward me.
"Well, time to stretch a little bit."
I roll my shoulders as the trio closes the distance. When they're finally in range, the big guy and princess stop, feet planting in the grass like they've reached some invisible line.
We stare each other down for a moment.
Then the smallest one steps out from behind her escorts and lowers her hood.
Blonde hair.
Freckles.
Empty eyes trying to look determined.
Rachel.
Of course.
"We've been watching you," she says, voice soft, like she's talking to some stray dog. "You're strong. Join our team. If we move together, we can secure this test and the next ones easily."
So that's the play.
Use the monsters to clear the field.
Use the watcher to recruit what they don't want to fight.
I laugh.
Not a little chuckle.
A full, sharp laugh that makes the big guy tense and the princess' eye twitch.
"Let me get this straight," I say, tilting my head. "You hide behind two top-tier talents, let them do the killing, and now you're offering me a spot on your little murder-squad?"
The princess bristles. "Watch your mouth. You should be honored we're inviting you—"
I hold up a finger.
"I wasn't talking to you, little lizard," I say without even looking at her. My eyes stay on Rachel. "I'm talking to the one who thinks watching from the back makes her a leader."
Rachel flinches, just barely.
Good. She's self-aware enough to feel it.
"I just thought—" she starts.
"There's your mistake," I cut in. "You thought I'd be desperate. I'm not. I'm bored."
That's what does it.
The princess moves first.
A flash of Shinsu and she's already in front of me, foot whipping toward my head in a high arc meant to take it clean off.
Her speed would be impressive to anyone else.
To me, it's a breeze in slow-motion.
My hand snaps up and catches her ankle mid-swing.
Her eyes widen.
"You—!"
I flick my wrist.
Not enough to break.
Just enough to upend her balance and send her spinning, slamming her into the ground on her back.
The big guy roars and charges in, fist cocked back, Shinsu density swirling around it. He's not playing. If that hits, it'll crater the whole rock.
I sidestep. No Shinsu, no Ki. Just footwork.
His punch slams into stone, shattering it apart in a boom of dust and debris.
I tap his arm with an open palm as he recovers.
Redirect his momentum.
He stumbles.
The princess is already back up, lunging at my blind side with a knife she pulled from somewhere inside her robe.
I slip inside her reach, let her blade pass harmlessly by my coat, and tap her shoulder with two fingers.
"Your weight's on the wrong foot."
She blinks.
Then the world spins for her as I pivot and borrow her own momentum, letting her crash into the big guy's chest.
They go down in a tangle.
I haven't thrown a real strike yet.
"Stop playing with them," I mutter to myself, but it's more fun than I'll admit out loud.
The big guy grunts, shoves the princess away, and comes at me again. This time he's tighter. Smarter. Less wild.
Top-tier talent, like I thought.
"Fine," I sigh. "You get one."
He throws a straight punch.
Clean form.
Good intent.
I step in, twist my hips, and drive a short hook into his ribs.
Just one.
A normal punch. No power-up. No divine tricks.
His eyes roll for a second as the shock travels through his body. He staggers sideways and drops to one knee, arm clutched around his side, trying not to vomit.
The princess freezes mid-step, realization dawning.
He's the only one I actually hit.
"You're letting us keep up," she spits, eyes burning. "You bastard."
"Correct," I say, flicking imaginary dust off my sleeve. "But don't feel bad. On this floor, that still puts you in the top ten percent."
I finally look past them.
Straight at Rachel.
She hasn't moved.
Not an inch.
Just watching.
Studying.
Calculating where to stand so the blood never reaches her shoes.
"I don't like you," I say simply. "You're the kind of person who survives every tragedy by being just useless enough that no one thinks killing you matters."
Her face tightens, but she doesn't deny it.
I take a step forward anyway.
The princess tenses.
The big guy grits his teeth and forces himself up, body screaming in protest.
They're ready to keep going.
I'm done with them.
The real problem is the one hiding in the back.
I raise a hand, pointing past their shoulders.
"Move," I tell them. "I'm going to have a conversation with the parasite."
I take one more step—
And everything slams to a halt.
Not from me.
From above.
There's no polite buzzer.
No announcement.
Just a sharp crack in the air as Shinsu explodes downward like a guillotine.
The pressure hits a breath before the presence does.
Rankers.
Official examiners of the Floor.
In an instant, they're surrounding us.
One in front, blade pressed against the big guy's throat.
Another behind the princess, needle at the base of her spine.
A third at Rachel's side, holding a curved knife so close to her neck a bead of blood gathers.
I feel a weight settle at my back too, cold metal kissing the side of my neck.
That's the mistake.
The instant steel touches my skin, something in me moves on reflex.
I don't pull away.
I don't grab the knife.
I let my will snap.
It rolls out of me in a soundless shockwave — the same pressure that made Yuri's knights flinch the first time I got annoyed, except I don't bother to hold it back here.
Shinsu reacts before the Rankers do.
The air around us howls.
The invisible sea inside the Tower surges toward me like it's been waiting, dragging the environment with it. The ground spiderwebs under our feet, cracks racing outward as if something underneath just woke up and stretched.
A few unconscious Rookies in the distance jerk once and go still again.
The big guy's knees buckle.
The princess' pupils blow wide.
Rachel's teeth chatter as her legs threaten to give out.
The knife at my neck trembles against my skin.
"Wh—!" the examiner behind me chokes out, his stance breaking for half a second under the pressure.
More presences slam into the area immediately.
At least three.
Maybe four.
All Rankers.
The sky ripples as new figures blink into existence, Shinsu condensing around them in tight halos — this time the serious ones, the kind that don't dress in bright colors or joke during tests.
"Enough."
The word isn't loud.
It doesn't have to be.
It drops across the field like a verdict. The Shinsu that rushed to greet me… hesitates. Like a dog hearing its master's voice. The pressure around us fights me for a breath, then pushes back.
I let my aura fold in on itself again.
The cracks in the ground stop spreading.
The air stops screaming.
Rachel is shaking. The princess is sweating. The big guy is breathing like he just sprinted a marathon.
The examiners are all looking at me now.
Not at the bodies.
Not at the trio.
At me.
The lead examiner studies my face for a long beat, expression unreadable.
"Team seventy-three," he says finally, forcing his gaze off me and onto the carnage. His voice is flat, but there's tension in his shoulders now. "Three-person squad. All other Rookies in this test area: dead."
The big guy grits his teeth. "We passed the condition. Survive six hours. We—"
The knife digs a little deeper into his skin.
"Shut up," the examiner behind him says, still rattled.
The leader sighs, bored on the surface, but his eyes keep flicking back toward me.
"Survive, yes," he says. "But this isn't a slaughterhouse. Excessive elimination of other candidates without tactical necessity violates the Director's standing orders."
His gaze slides to Rachel last.
She finally looks small.
"This one hid behind the other two the entire time," he notes. "Never engaged. Never intervened. Just watched."
His eyes shift to me again, a little narrower now.
"And you…" he says. "Didn't participate until they came for you. No offensive initiation. Minimal engagement."
He doesn't mention the Shinsu reacting.
The cracked ground.
The extra Rankers still hovering above us, watching like they're waiting for me to sneeze wrong.
"Hm."
The knife at my neck never returns.
Theirs do not move away.
Rachel swallows. The princess tries not to. The big guy's fists clench, then loosen.
"By directive of the Floor of Tests," the lead examiner says, "this three-person team is to be detained and escorted to the Director for special review."
Rachel flinches.
The princess explodes. "On what grounds?! We survived! That was the only—"
The Ranker behind her twists her arm just enough to make the message clear.
"On the grounds that you're too eager to stain the floor," the leader says. "And we've seen what that causes."
His gaze returns to me, wary now.
"As for you, Rookie… you're being reassigned."
A small Shinsu screen pops up in his hand with a name I already know.
Lero-Ro.
"Single candidate," the examiner says. "No team. No attachments. You'll report to Administrator Lero-Ro's group for the next test."
One of the higher Rankers still in the sky clicks his tongue, but doesn't argue.
The knife leaves my neck.
Theirs don't.
I roll my shoulders once, letting the last bit of pressure leak out of the air.
"So they get dragged off to see the principal," I say, stepping away from the circle, "and I get sent to homeroom. Got it."
The big guy tries to step toward me.
The blade at his throat digs in again. He stops.
Rachel's eyes find mine as I walk past.
There's something ugly in them now.
Resentment.
Fear.
The realization that for all the killing they did…
She's still the one no one chose.
"Try not to die in detention," I say lightly, not bothering to look back. "Would be a shame if all that talent went to waste."
The princess snarls something I don't bother to catch.
A Shinsu platform blooms under my feet, lifting me away toward the waiting area.
Behind me, I hear shackles forming.
The scrape of steel.
A muffled protest cut off by a blow.
The test isn't over for them.
For me?
This round is finished.
Next stop: Lero-Ro's wall.
Scene 2 — The Rookie Wall
Being carried by Shinsu isn't as fun when you're not the one controlling it.
The platform drops me off in a circular waiting area packed with Rookies. Stone floor. Metal railings. Screens flicker with images from other test fields.
Most people pretend not to stare.
They do it badly.
Someone whispers, "That's the guy the examiners pulled out alone," and suddenly everyone discovers something fascinating on the opposite wall.
I lean against a pillar and close my eyes.
Let them look.
A calm Shinsu breeze brushes across my skin a few minutes later — refined, precise, practiced.
The man walking in wears wide black pants, a black shirt, and a white jacket. His hair, posture, and smile all say "I am not taking this as seriously as you are."
"Everyone, listen up," he says lightly. "I am your Test Administrator for this round. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lero-Ro, a Ranker and Test Administrator for the Floor of Tests. Please take care of me."
The room reacts like he just announced a fee increase.
Groans. Complaints. One guy actually boos.
Lero-Ro's smile doesn't change.
"Now," he continues, "you've probably rested enough already, so let's move on to the next test. But before that, I will hold a pre-test. Anyone who fails this test won't move on to round two."
That snaps them upright.
"What?!"
"You can't—!"
"Already?!"
He tilts his head.
"Calm down," he says. "It's a really simple test."
He steps to the center and raises his palm.
"And now," he murmurs, "I'll begin administering the test. Come here… loser. Closer."
Shinsu condenses in front of his hand.
Then detonates.
A wave of invisible force slams through the room.
Rookies fly backward into the walls with a chorus of screams and curses as a thin blue barrier materializes in front of him, the Shinsu stabilizing into a translucent wall.
The impact washes over me like a breeze.
The boy with the black needle — messy hair, wide eyes — doesn't move either. He just blinks, still clutching his weapon.
The white-haired boy with the briefcase stumbles a step, catches himself, and stares at the barrier.
"Is this… Shinsu?" he asks.
Lero-Ro glances at him, pleasantly amused. "Yes. The force I used was Shinsu. In an instant, Shinsu is compressed and used to create a barrier which pushed everyone here back."
He gestures lazily at the air.
"Just as all of you already know," he goes on, "Shinsu exists everywhere inside the Tower. It allows us to breathe and live here. But depending on how you use Shinsu, it can be a deadly force. Extremely dense Shinsu is enough to kill a person, and certain individuals show side effects to Shinsu."
He spreads his arms as if welcoming them to a theme park.
"There are those capable of adapting to Shinsu. Basically, do you have the qualities to climb the Tower? If you can pass through the barrier, then it means you don't suffer ill effects from Shinsu. Any team that passes the wall has passed. Anyone who doesn't…"
He shrugs. "…fails."
The room explodes again.
"This is bullshit!! If one of our team fails, we're all out?!"
"That's unfair!"
"You can't decide our fate like that!"
Lero-Ro rubs his forehead like this is the fiftieth time today.
"Unfair?" he repeats. "Do you know what's really the most important?"
Silence.
They don't answer because they're too angry to think.
He smiles.
"It's luck," he says simply. "You need luck to be born with a strong body, to be blessed by fate, to avoid death — and even down to who you pick as teammates."
A few people glance sideways at the strangers they're bound to.
Someone else, quieter than the others, raises his hand.
"…Umm, what about me?"
The boy with the black needle.
Lero-Ro's eyes soften a fraction. "Yes?"
"Mr. Lero," the boy says, "have you seen Rachel? She has blonde hair and freckles."
His voice is too honest. Too young.
Lero-Ro thinks for a moment, actually giving it consideration.
"I don't recall seeing anyone like that," he answers.
The light in the kid's face dims.
He lowers his hand.
I watch him more closely now.
From the outside, he's just another scared boy, staring at a barrier he doesn't understand, clinging to the one name that means "home."
Inside?
He's wrong.
Not corrupted. Not monstrous. Just… wrong.
Baam is the surface layer. A fragment. Beneath him, the soul doesn't end — it sinks. Threads of something older, deeper, heavier drag downward into an abyss.
At the bottom of that well, where most souls are supposed to stop, there's someone else.
A human. Entirely human. Watching quietly.
When the boy looks at the wall, the man at the bottom looks at me.
We both smile.
For different reasons.
"Alright," Lero-Ro says briskly, "we'll now begin the wall test. You may attempt to pass the barrier in your teams."
The crowd stirs.
Teams gather themselves, push to their feet, and start moving toward the barrier one group at a time.
Some pass with only a wince or stagger.
Others hit the Shinsu like a solid wall and get bounced backward, clutching their chests, noses bleeding.
The complaints are fewer this time.
Pain explains rules better than lectures.
A tall, muscle-brained rookie takes a running start at the barrier and slams into it face-first. He slides down the invisible surface, leaving a streak.
He gets up shaking.
"Argh, this test is bullshit!!" he howls, pointing past the wall. "That weakling was allowed to pass while I can't make it through! Let's fight that weakling and I'll take his place!!"
Everyone follows his finger.
They expect some fragile twig.
They see Baam, just past the barrier, looking stunned that he's even there.
I click my tongue and push off the pillar.
Lero-Ro shifts like he might intervene.
I get there first.
The Shinsu barrier pushes at me for a heartbeat, recognizes me, then parts. I step through like I've already paid admission.
The brute towers over me, broad chest heaving, veins popping.
"I didn't call you, pretty boy," he growls. "You cheated your way through—"
My fist is already in his gut.
Just a straight body shot. No Ki. No divine tricks. Just weight, angle, and experience.
He folds around my arm with a wet noise, eyes bulging. Air, spit, and whatever pride he had blast out of his lungs.
He drops to his knees.
The room goes very quiet.
I grab his hair and force his head up so he has to look at me while he's choking on his own breath.
"You signed up to climb a Tower where they tell you on floor one that you can die," I say calmly. "You killed people already to get here. And now you're whining about 'fair'?"
His fingers claw at my wrist.
I let him go.
He collapses onto his hands, gagging.
I straighten, look around at everyone on both sides of the wall.
"Here's your fairness," I add, voice carrying. "Every last one of you signed your life away the moment you walked through that Door. You don't like the odds? You should have stayed outside."
There's no cheering. No bravado.
Just a lot of people suddenly very aware of where they are.
Lero-Ro watches from his table, eyes sharp now behind the lazy smile.
"That's enough," he says mildly. "Any further fighting will be considered interference with the Administrator's test."
I meet his gaze.
We both know he only said that after I stopped.
I turn slightly, glancing back at Baam.
"Baam," I say, "if you lose that, I'll be forced to get it back."
His fingers tighten around the Black March.
"Also," I tilt my chin toward the crowd, "be careful of that green girl. Whatever she's carrying is the same quality as yours."
He follows my gaze to Anak.
Her tail flicks.
Her eyes narrow.
He swallows.
I step back through the barrier. This time, a few Rookies flinch away from me on reflex, even on the safe side of the wall.
Good.
Pirate habits die hard.
I drift back toward the side where Lero-Ro has taken a seat at a simple stone table, a drink in front of him like this is just another workday.
A bottle appears from my ring with a twitch of thought.
Two cups float.
One lands in front of him. One in front of Baam. One in my hand.
"Excuse me," someone says quietly.
Bleuon approaches — the same man whose body had once doubled as a "god's" loudspeaker back on the test field. His eyes are clearer now. The weight behind them is still there, but less… invasive.
"Mr. Crow," he says, bowing slightly. "My Lord said he apologizes for sticking his nose in Your Majesty's business earlier. If you need anything, then let me — his divine vessel — know, and he'll do his best."
He sets a small bottle of spirit wine down and steps back.
I nudge it with a finger, then leave it.
Lero-Ro takes a cautious sip from his cup.
His eyes widen.
"Mr. Crow," he breathes, "this is some of the best wine I've tasted. Did you receive it from your family?"
I answer with a small nod and another sip.
Baam, on the other hand, throws his entire cup back in one go.
He coughs like his organs are trying to escape.
I chuckle.
Lero-Ro watches the two of us over the rim of his cup, the easy smile never leaving his face — but there's a sharper edge behind his gaze now.
"How would you two like to make a bet?" he says.
Baam blinks. "…A bet?"
"On who passes," Lero-Ro says, gesturing toward the barrier as another team slams against it and fails. "It's a way to kill time while they struggle."
I shrug. "Sure. I'll take the overgrown lizard."
I nod toward Rak, who is mid-rant about turtles and clearly offended by the concept of air.
Baam looks around, thinking.
"Then I'll pick…" His eyes land on Anak. "The green girl with the tail."
Lero-Ro's smile widens. "Good choice."
Anak strolls toward the barrier a moment later and walks through it like it's a curtain.
Rak follows in his own turn, roaring something about "weak turtles" and "challenging the wall." The Shinsu pushes, then bends, letting him through with a crackle of pressure.
Lero-Ro taps the table.
"Well, Mr. Crow, it seems you've lost," he says. "Mr. Baam and I tied with our pick. So I'll let Baam ask his question first. Then I'll ask you one."
Baam hesitates only a second.
"What… are Irregulars?" he asks quietly.
The background noise dulls around us without anyone meaning to.
Lero-Ro sets his cup down.
"Well," he says slowly, "Irregulars are people who broke the rules of the Tower set by the King. Everyone else is chosen by the Tower's Door. Irregulars aren't. They come in from the outside. On their own."
He looks at Baam for a moment, then glances past him — at me — before continuing.
"People like Phantaminum or Enryu are overwhelmingly strong. Their very existence warps the Tower. That's why Irregulars are seen as harbingers of chaos and change."
Baam goes still.
He doesn't ask the obvious follow-up.
He doesn't need to.
His grip around the Black March tightens instead.
Lero-Ro inhales, then lets it go.
"My turn," he says, looking at me now. "Mr. Crow, do you think God is unfair?"
The wine is warm in my chest. The Shinsu hums quietly, brushing against me without aggression.
"For God to be 'fair,'" I say, "everyone's journey would have to be the same. Same birth. Same path. Same burdens. Same ending."
I swirl the liquid in my cup.
"That's not how this Tower works."
Baam listens like the answer is being carved somewhere behind his eyes.
Lero-Ro doesn't smile this time.
"So what matters, then?" he asks quietly.
"For most people?" I say. "They need fairness. Rules. Floors. Tests. Someone like you telling them how not to die."
I tap my chest.
"But some of us," I continue, "are born outside that balance. Blessed from birth. Or stubborn enough to claw out our own way without any blessing."
I shrug.
"It's unfair," I say. "And that unfairness is what keeps the Tower moving. Without it, nothing changes. Nothing breaks. Nothing new gets born."
For a heartbeat, it feels like even the Shinsu is listening.
Then someone screams after getting bounced by the barrier again, and the spell breaks.
Lero-Ro huffs a small laugh and raises his cup in a tiny salute.
"Beautiful answer," he says. "Very unfair."
Baam looks first at him, then at me.
At the wall.
At his own hands.
And somewhere deep inside him, the man at the bottom of the well smiles wider.
Scene 3 — Scammed Already / Sink or Swim
They move us again.
Narrow corridor, high ceiling, blue-tinged light. Shinsu clings to the air more than it should, like the whole hallway is a lung that forgot how to breathe.
At the far end, there's just one door.
Tall. Plain. No markings. No handle. Just a single boundary that might as well have "point of no return" carved into it.
Lero-Ro stops a few steps in front of it, hands in his pockets.
"This is your next test hall," he says. "Teams will go in one by one."
No fancy name this time. No "Door of Something." Just that.
He raises a finger.
"When your team is called, you'll enter through this door. Inside, you'll receive your test from another Administrator. I won't be inside. I'll only be watching from out here."
That gets a few looks.
"So you're not the one grading us?" someone asks.
"Nope," he says easily. "I just throw you to the sharks."
He flips open his pocket watch.
"Teams will enter in order," he says. "I won't answer any questions about what happens inside. You'll find out when it's your turn."
He calls the first group.
Three Rookies peel themselves away from the wall and walk down the hall like they're going to a funeral. The door slides open for them with a soft hiss of Shinsu.
They step through.
The door closes.
No screams. No sound. No glow, no shaking, nothing.
Just silence.
Lero-Ro glances at his watch.
"Next team," he says.
That's all anyone outside gets.
Name. Walk. Door opens. They disappear. Door shuts.
Silence.
"Next team."
Over and over.
If someone dies in there, if they pass, if they get turned into coffee—nobody in this hall knows. Nobody gets to react to anything. It's deliberate.
You can't game a test you can't observe.
Eventually, it's Baam's turn.
"Next team," Lero-Ro calls. His eyes flick to the side. "You three."
Baam startles. Khun doesn't. Rak just snorts.
They start walking.
Baam glances back at me. "Mr. Crow…?"
I tilt my head toward the door, then away again.
"Your team got picked," I say. "Mine's already gone."
He hesitates, then nods and keeps moving.
The door opens for them, same soft Shinsu sigh.
Baam steps in first. Khun follows. Rak ducks his head and vanishes behind them.
The door closes.
No screams.
No reaction from Lero-Ro.
Just silence.
He looks at his watch, notes something only he can see, and calls the next team like Baam never existed.
By the time he snaps the watch shut again, the hall is nearly empty.
"That's it for this round," he says. "Those who passed are already in the next area. The next Administrator will explain their situation."
He glances at me for a heartbeat, like he's debating saying something.
He doesn't.
He just turns, leaves with the other Rankers, and lets the hall drain out.
I stay.
No one tells me to move.
So I don't.
⋯
Time passes.
The Shinsu in the corridor settles back into stillness, like even it's waiting for someone to decide what to do with me.
Eventually, the side door Lero-Ro used earlier opens again.
He steps back in alone.
"Ah," he says. "You are still here."
"I figured if I wandered off, someone would drag me back anyway," I say.
He laughs under his breath.
"Your previous test group cleared their condition, then died," he says. "The examiners flagged you as a special case. I can't run you through with a new team now. That would… skew things."
I look past him at the single door.
"So what happens?" I ask. "You throw me in with the sharks solo?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes," he says. "The Administrator inside agreed to see you alone. Your results will be recorded separately."
"Penalties?" I ask.
"There are always penalties," he says. "If you proceed as a solo unit from this point, you'll be ineligible for certain group-based exams."
"Such as?"
"The Crown Game, for example."
He says it casually, like it's a minor thing. His eyes say it isn't.
"You won't be placed on the roster for it," he adds. "Your path will diverge from the others there."
I roll my shoulders.
"Crowns don't interest me," I say. "I'm not here for a hat."
His mouth twitches.
"In that case," he says, "you may proceed. No timer from me this time. The test inside has its own."
Of course it does.
I walk down the hall.
The door at the end opens as I approach, Shinsu folding back like a curtain.
I step through.
The corridor disappears.
⋯
The room inside is smaller than I expected.
Wide enough to breathe, narrow enough to feel like a cage. The ceiling lights are dim and warm instead of the cold blue we've had so far.
Along the far wall: twelve doors, all identical.
No markings. No handles. Just twelve blank choices lined up like a joke.
In the middle of the room sits a low table with a steaming cup of coffee on it.
Behind the table, on a cushion, is a man.
Blue hair. Soft features. Pink hoodie. Slippers.
He looks like a sleepy grad student, not a thing the Tower sends to sort out killers.
He closes the book in his hand as he looks up at me.
"Welcome," he says pleasantly. "I'm Yu Hansung. I'll be administering this test."
Of course he will.
My gaze slides from him to the row of doors, then back.
"Great," I say. "I already feel like I'm being scammed."
Hansung's smile widens by a fraction.
"Already?" he says. "You haven't even heard the rules yet."
"I saw one door outside," I say, nodding back the way I came. "Now I see twelve. No information in the hall. No feedback from previous teams. Everything hidden behind your room."
I jerk my chin at the line of doors.
"That's exactly how people who like scamming work," I add. "They put all the real decisions where no one else can see them."
He chuckles and sets the book down, placing a finger in the spine to mark his page.
"I see why the examiners wanted to send you in alone," he says softly. "You're a little too quick for the show they like to run."
He folds his hands over the table.
"This test is simple," he says. "In front of you are twelve doors. You have five minutes to choose one and open it. That is all."
He smiles like he just explained the rules to a children's game.
"Most people," he goes on, "spend that time thinking. Weighing possibilities. Wondering if there's a trick. They ask themselves… 'What if I'm wrong?'"
He watches me closely.
"What about you, Mr. Crow?" he asks. "Will you think carefully… or rush to your fate?"
I stand up.
"I'm a pirate," I say. "We don't second guess our fate."
His brows lift, just a little.
"Sink or swim," I continue, turning toward the doors. "The only goal is to move forward. The moment you stop to doubt is the moment you sit down and wait for death to catch up."
I don't count doors.
I don't test the air.
I just walk to the nearest one, put my hand on it, and push.
The door opens without resistance.
Shinsu pulls at me like a tide.
Behind me, I hear Hansung's soft exhale.
"…Interesting," he murmurs. "No hesitation at all."
I glance back over my shoulder.
"You gave me five minutes," I say. "I don't need them."
Then I step through.
The door closes.
And, true to my own words, I move forward—because stopping in this Tower is just another way to die.