The screen didn't flicker. It didn't fade. It hung there in the air, a stubborn, light-blue slab of translucent data that felt more real than the walls of my apartment.
[System Reboot Completed. Welcome to the 'Tower of Trials' updated version.]
I stared at it, my heart hammering a rhythm I hadn't felt since I beat the Floor 100 boss. The text began to scroll, rewriting itself with a cold, mechanical finality.
[Welcome to the Tutorial Phase of the 'Tower of Trials'. Prove your worth and Survive the initial 'Level-Break' for the destined time period. Time Remaining: 4 days 23 hours 59 minutes 57 seconds.]
Then, the ultimatum appeared.
[The 1st Floor of the 'Tower of Trials' will be open once the Tutorial Phase is completed. Please clear the Floors within a given time limit. Failure to clear a Floor will lead to the annihilation of Humanity.]
"Annihilation," I whispered. The word should have been heavy, terrifying. But as the first screams began to echo from the street below, I felt a jagged spark of electricity jolt through my spine.
Cracks began to tear open in the sky—vibrant, weeping wounds of purple light. These were 'Gates,' the umbilical cords connecting our world to the Denizens of the Tower. From my window, I watched the first wave spill out. Goblins. The lowest-ranking trash of the Tower, but to a world that didn't know how to move, they were monsters from a nightmare.
Chaos erupted. Panic was a wildfire. But as I watched humanity crumble, I felt… thrill. This was the excitement I'd chased through 104 accounts. It wasn't just a game anymore. There was no 'New Game' button if I messed up. The pain would be real. The death would be permanent. And that was exactly what made my blood boil with joy.
I grabbed a sturdy jacket and a kitchen knife—barely a toothpick against what was coming, but better than nothing—and bolted out the door.
I knew something the rest of the world didn't. The developers of Nexus were lazy. In the early game, they had modeled the Tutorial and the lower floors on real-world topographies. Most 'Hidden Zones' weren't in the sky; they were tucked into the cracks of the city streets we walked every day.
I sprinted past a goblin tearing into a sedan, my feet moving by memory. I dodged through an alleyway, headed straight for a specific landmark: an abandoned, moss-covered water fountain three blocks away.
When I slid into the clearing, I skidded to a halt. I wasn't alone.
About seventeen other people were already there, huddled around the fountain. Some were crying; others looked like they were trying to remember their old VR controls. It made sense—Nexus had been a global phenomenon in its first few years. Plenty of people remembered the "hidden" spots, even if they hadn't played in a decade.
The moment my foot stepped into the fountain's radius, the screen chimed.
[Hidden Condition Met! A Special Event is being formed. The 'Nine-Fruits Willow Tree' has awakened!]
The ground groaned. The old stone fountain shattered as a tree erupted from the earth with unnatural speed, its weeping branches shimmering with a metallic sheen. Hanging from the boughs were nine bright red fruits, glowing like embers.
In the VR days, these were the ultimate starter prizes. Each fruit provided a permanent +3 Stat Point boost. The catch? A player could only benefit from one fruit; any more were just expensive snacks. And the trigger for this event was hyper-specific: exactly 18 people had to be present in the zone. My arrival had been the key.
"Look! Items!" someone screamed.
Greed is a hell of a drug. Five people immediately lost their minds, charging toward the tree with their hands outstretched.
"Wait, you idiots!" I yelled, but it was too late.
They had forgotten the most basic rule of the Tower: nothing is free. The Nine-Fruits Willow Tree wasn't just a plant; it was a predator.
Thwack-shink!
The tree's branches and roots moved like lightning. In the blink of an eye, the five runners were impaled through the chest and stomach by sharpened wooden stakes. They didn't even have time to scream before they were hoisted into the air, their blood beginning to water the roots. The tree's defensive range wasn't huge, but its speed was lethal for anyone with Level 1 stats.
The remaining dozen people backed away, shivering.
"We have to kill it!" one guy shouted, brandishing a pipe. "If we kill the tree, we can take the fruits!"
"No, if the tree dies, the fruits rot instantly!" another countered, likely an old player.
I stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the tree's rhythmic swaying. I didn't need a team, and I didn't need a plan. I had 104 lives of data burned into my brain. I knew the attack patterns, the blind spots, and the timing of the Nine-Fruits Willow better than I knew my own mother's face.
I looked at the tree, then at the terrified crowd. I knew the trick to harvesting this thing without becoming a human kebab. I wasn't here to play hero, and I wasn't here to share.
It was time to do things my way.