"I am so incredibly sorry. We estimate your son only has about four months left."
The words hit like a physical blow. A middle-aged man, his wife, and Nolan—a fourteen-year-old boy sitting between them—all flinched in shock. His mother immediately pulled him into a desperate embrace, sobbing uncontrollably. His father bolted upright, slamming his hands onto the desk, shouting in protest at the doctor who had just delivered the death sentence.
Nolan just sat there, head down, silent. His hope for a future had withered away a long time ago; he'd already accepted that his path was leading into total darkness.
There was nothing left to do. Nolan felt a strange sense of surrender as he listened to his expiration date being read aloud. He didn't even have tears left to cry. As the doctor repeatedly apologized to his father—who was currently pouring his heart out in a rage of grief—Nolan reached out and tugged at his dad's shirt. The father, face flushed and eyes shimmering with tears, looked down at his only child. Nolan met his gaze with a bitter, faint smile.
His father collapsed into the hug, wrapping his arms around both his wife and son. A heavy, heartbreaking silence filled the cardiologist's office, the doctor bowing his head in respect for the family's pain.
Eventually, they made it home. Nolan headed straight upstairs to his room, leaving his parents clinging to each other in the entryway, weeping. He shut his door and locked it, then slid down against the wood until he was curled up on the floor, hugging his knees.
He buried his face. "Why couldn't I just die now? I'm empty. I have no hope. I don't even want to live anymore." Those were the thoughts swirling in his mind. He gripped his hair tight, wanting to scream, wanting to curse the world for being so unfair. He wished he'd never been born at all. But despite the ache, the tears wouldn't come.
Nolan stood up, stumbling toward his desk. On the way, he bumped into his bookshelf.
"Clatter."
A book fell behind him. Nolan turned, picked it up, and carried it to his desk. When he opened it, he realized it was a journal from back when he was ten years old, during a long hospital stay. It was a "bucket list" of everything he wanted to do once he got better. There were a hundred items, ranging from simple things like buying a new sketchbook to grand dreams of becoming an astronaut.
"This is all pointless now, isn't it? Haha. In four months, I won't even exist," he thought to himself.
Suddenly—"Smash!"
Nolan snapped his head toward the door. He stood up and walked slowly toward it, cracking it open just a bit. The sounds of a heated argument drifted up from downstairs.
"No way! You are not working! What about Nolan if you're at a job, huh?" his father yelled.
"But we're flat broke! Our savings are gone!" his mother screamed back. "We can't borrow from anyone else, especially not the bank. We're three months behind on the mortgage. If we don't pay this month, they'll foreclosure the house next month! What is wrong with you?"
"I'll find a way! I'm telling you, I don't want you working—especially not for that high school ex-boyfriend of yours!"
"What? Is that what this is about? You don't trust me? We've been married for nearly twenty years and you still doubt me? For your information, he's married! He's trying to help because he knows we're struggling!"
"It's not about trust! You've been whispering to him on the phone late at night! It's about respect. You talk to him while I'm lying right next to you because you think I'm asleep. And when I ask, you lie and say it's your sister. Why couldn't you just be honest with me?"
"Respect? We're drowning! Our son is dying! Do you really care more about your ego right now? Think about our son! His wife was the one who told him to offer me the job because she saw what a mess I was. We talked, then they called. Is that a crime? I'm trying to tell you the truth now and this is how you react? This is exactly why I didn't tell you before!"
"Crash!" A glass hit the floor, narrowly missing his father.
As the shouting continued, Nolan slowly closed his door and walked back to his desk. He slumped into his chair and rested his head on the wood. His eyes drifted to the old journal. He ran his hand over the cover.
"Ding."
His phone buzzed. With trembling hands, he picked it up. But suddenly, his weak heart began to pound so hard it was actually painful.
"Agh..." He clutched his chest. "Ugh... why... now? Is it... is it time? They said four months... dammit," Nolan muttered.
His vision began to blur. His strength vanished instantly, and he slumped out of his chair, falling to the floor. He didn't move, but his hand stayed clamped around his phone. With the last of his strength, he lifted his wrist to look at the screen through half-closed eyes. A large message was displayed right in the center:
[Would you like to become the Monarch of Grey Tower? [YES] [NO]]
"Huh... Grey... Tower..."
Nolan's eyes drifted shut. But right before he lost consciousness, his thumb pressed "YES." One final message appeared:
[Welcome, Monarch of Grey Tower.]
***
Okay, let's pause there. At that moment... I actually died. Yep. My heart finally gave up and decided to stop ticking entirely, dragging me off to the afterlife. Or, more accurately, the fourth dimension.
I found myself standing in front of a tower. It was perfectly round, grey, and so tall it seemed to have no end. There were no windows, just massive stone bricks that looked ancient—like a relic from a lost civilization. But as I stood there, the wall just... opened. It became a door.
I stepped inside, and the floor began to rise like an elevator. A strange, robotic female voice started talking, telling me I had been chosen as the Monarch of Grey Tower. Then, she started explaining the "forgotten history" of the world—legends, myths, whatever you want to call it.
Apparently, these Towers are remnants of seven ancient kingdoms that possessed incredibly advanced technology. Each tower emits a specific elemental energy, like a massive signal. Researchers use these towers to create "Orbs"—extra organs for the human body that awaken true powers. The Orbs sync up with the elemental energy already inside a person and use the Tower as an amplifier.
Since the towers are elemental, they each have a color. The first is the Red Tower (Fire), located inside a volcanic crater. The second is the Blue Tower (Water), in the middle of the ocean. The third is the Green Tower (Nature), which mostly produces wind or healing energy, hidden deep in a jungle. The fourth is the Yellow Tower (Earth/Gound), located in a desert. To give you an example, Tigra's Orb absorbs energy from this tower, which is why he can turn into iron.
Then there are the two rare ones. The White Tower (Sky/Holy) is up in the clouds; people with these Orbs usually get powers like white lightning or flight. Then there's the Black Tower (Darkness). It's terrifying—it only appears at night, and nobody knows exactly where because it moves. It grants powers like dark matter, shadows, and the worst one: necromancy. Imagine a gladiator bringing zombies into a fight. Disgusting.
But out of all of them, the last tower—the one everyone thought was just a legend or a fairy tale because nobody had ever actually seen it—is this one: the Grey Tower. Its element? Void, ether, space, null... call it whatever you want. Its powers? Teleportation, dimension hopping, wormholes, black holes, and all that crazy stuff. What do I actually use? Dimension hopping and teleportation. Those two are enough for me, even though, as the Monarch, I could technically use all of them.
Once everything was explained, the robot voice lady said her goodbyes, and I started falling into this pitch-black darkness. It was so deep I seriously thought, "Okay, this time I'm dead for real." But fate had other plans. Let's get back to the story of why I need money—why I really, desperately need it.