It was humanoid, human—but not quite.

  The aura it radiated was nothing like a person's, heavy and suffocating as it pressed down on Rain's chest until each breath felt labored. He couldn't tell whether it was male or female. Its body was entirely dark, lacking any defined shape, as though it were formed from living shadow, and it moved unnaturally through the air, its outline warping with each subtle shift of the wind.

  Only its face seemed to possess structure, along with its hair, which flowed freely in a way that defied gravity. A cloth covered its face, concealing its features. Rain could see faint shadows beneath the fabric, but the figure remained just far enough away to stay unreadable.

  When it finally touched the ground, murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  "Who is that?"

  "What do they want?"

  No one said it outright, but they all understood the same truth.

  That thing was not human.

  The figure began walking toward them, and instinctively the group formed a loose circle, Rain among them. With every step it took, his skin crawled, and when it stopped less than ten feet away, the pressure of its presence became nearly unbearable.

  Rain wanted to speak, to ask something—anything—but fear locked his throat.

  Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, someone else spoke first.

  "HEY!" a short man shouted, maybe around thirty.

  "WHERE ARE WE?" he continued, his voice cracking. "AND WH–WHO ARE YOU?"

  The figure didn't respond.

  Silence stretched unnaturally long as the air grew thick, almost pressurized. Now that it was closer, Rain could truly feel its presence, and as seconds passed, others began to grow bolder.

  "H–hey, answer us!"

  "What is this place?!"

  Soon, voices overlapped, shouting demands at the figure, but it didn't react.

  Its body shifted.

  Rain's breath caught as its form subtly changed, the torso reshaping into something slender and unmistakably feminine—smooth and alluring in a way that felt deeply wrong. Seconds later, it shifted again, broad shoulders replacing the curves as a masculine frame settled into place. Its height altered effortlessly, growing taller, then shorter, as though its body were nothing more than a suggestion.

  It could be anything it wanted.

  Suddenly, the man who had spoken first stepped forward. Rain could see the fear in him now, even as he tried to project confidence, his steps unsteady as he approached.

  "H–HEY," the man stammered, forcing the words out. "HEY, BITCH. ANSWER US!"

  He stopped barely two feet from the figure, and several people in the crowd shouted encouragement.

  "YEAH!"

  "TELL US!"

  Then the air changed.

  The wind died, and Rain found that he couldn't move. Panic surged through him as his body refused to respond.

  The figure's form settled into a male shape, and slowly, deliberately, it stared down into the man's eyes. Its hand warped and reshaped into a large black sword, shadows rippling as the darkness elongated and sharpened into something Rain couldn't fully comprehend.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The figure raised its arm, and before the man could speak again, his head was severed in a single motion.

  It flew through the air and landed among the crowd, skidding to a stop just feet from Rain.

  Only then did his body unlock, his heart slamming violently against his ribs as his breath came in short, panicked gasps.

  What just happened? he thought, barely able to process it.

  People screamed. Some collapsed, sobbing, while others turned and ran without thinking. Rain didn't move, instinct screaming that running would only earn him the same fate.

  That presence could kill all of them without effort if it chose to.

  Rain glanced around and counted roughly thirty people still standing, frozen in place just like him. They all seemed to understand the same thing.

  The figure turned back toward them and began walking forward again, though this time the pressure eased. Its aura felt calmer, almost casual, as it stopped only a few feet away.

  Rain's shirt clung to him, soaked through with sweat, and his silver-white hair stuck to his face. His heart felt as though it might tear itself apart.

  Then the figure sighed—a very human sound.

  "Well," it said, its voice distinctly masculine, calm and clear, "that was unfortunate for everyone who ran."

  Rain's eyes widened as the words sank in. The voice sounded normal, almost conversational.

  "I hope you all understand," the figure continued, almost apologetically, "I'm usually not an aggressive person." It paused briefly. "That individual simply failed to respect my personal space."

  No one spoke. No one breathed.

  "Well," the figure said, a faint hint of amusement slipping into its tone, "now it's time to explain the rules of the tower."

  No one dared interrupt. The memory of the severed head lingered too vividly, replaying itself every time someone swallowed or shifted their weight.

  "First, you have five minutes to speak among yourselves. You may ask questions," Ashlore continued, smiling beneath the cloth. "I simply advise against interrupting me."

  The words were polite, even courteous, but Rain could feel the threat woven tightly beneath them.

  "My name is Ashlore," the figure went on. "I am here to explain the tower—how it functions, and who I am."

  He sighed softly, as if the explanation bored him.

  "Simply put, I am a teacher of sorts. For now, you are my students."

  Ashlore gestured lazily toward the forest around them. "This tower consists of many floors. Do not ask how many—I do not know. You are currently on the first floor."

  Everyone listened, not because they were forced to, but because every word felt like it carried consequences.

  "You will all receive the same status screen that brought you here. That screen will explain how to clear this floor and advance."

  Ashlore tilted his head slightly. "Think back to the moment before you arrived here. The screen should appear again."

  Rain did as instructed, recalling the brief flash of light and sensation of being pulled forward.

  A translucent blue screen materialized in front of his eyes.

  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

  STATUS

  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

  Name: Rain

  Race: Vampire (Unawakened)

  Age: 18

  Lvl: 1

  ──────────────────────

  CORE ATTRIBUTES

  ──────────────────────

  Strength:??3

  Agility:??6

  Endurance:?4

  Recovery:?7

  Magic:??0

  0 Attribute points available

  ──────────────────────

  SYSTEM FLAGS

  ──────────────────────

  ? Awakening conditions not met

  Rain stared at the screen, his thoughts stalling as his eyes locked onto a single word.

  Vampire.

  "What the hell?" he muttered under his breath.

  Around him, others reacted similarly, shouting in confusion or panic as they read their own screens aloud. Rain barely heard them. His attention remained fixed on that single designation, his pulse quickening as questions piled up in his mind.

  He wanted to ask Ashlore what it meant, how it was possible, or whether it was some kind of mistake, but the figure's presence made the thought feel dangerous.

  Before Rain could force himself to speak, a young woman stepped forward. She looked to be around twenty, with long blonde hair clumped together by dirt and moisture from the forest floor. Her hands trembled as she clasped them together.

  "Um…" she said quietly, steadying herself. "What does all of this mean?"

  "The status screen reflects your current state," Ashlore continued. "Your name, race, age, and more importantly, your level, and you're attributes. Five is considered average. Anything below that is inferior, and anything above it is superior."

  The woman swallowed. "Then… why do we need stats?"

  Ashlore's smile widened slightly beneath the cloth. "I'm glad you asked."

  "These attributes exist for one purpose: climbing the tower."

  He continued without waiting for a response. "Each floor contains different challenges and different creatures. Some floors have no monsters at all, while others are far less forgiving." He shrugged. "I would not know much about the higher floors. I am merely a watcher."

  He gestured again, and several people glanced back at their screens.

  "You should also see an inventory section. Equip the weapon you have been gifted."

  Rain shifted his focus and found it immediately.

  Iron Sword — Common

  Health Potion — Common

  An iron sword?

  He hesitated before speaking, surprised when his voice actually came out steady. "Why do I have a sword?"

  "The weapons you've been given are matched to what your bodies are best suited for," Ashlore answered calmly. "Some of you received daggers, favoring speed. Others were given axes or heavier weapons. A few of you may possess tools tied to magic."

  He paused, as though remembering something unimportant. "In time, you may acquire better equipment through purchase or by claiming drops from defeated creatures."

  Then Ashlore stepped backward, his feet never quite touching the ground.

  "If you clear the first floor," he said, "we will meet again."

  Several people cried out at once, voices overlapping in desperation.

  "Wait—!"

  But Ashlore was already rising, his body lifting effortlessly into the air as he ascended above the trees. Within seconds, his form faded from view, leaving only silence behind.

  Rain's heart pounded as the weight of the moment settled in.

  Before he could think further, his status screen flickered.

  Quest: Eliminate all monsters on this floor

  Reward: Access to the 2nd Floor

  Failure Condition: Death if not completed within 4 hours

  "Death?" a burly man shouted, his voice cracking as he read it aloud.

  Rain felt his stomach drop. He didn't need to look around to know that everyone had seen the same message.

  He lifted his gaze, scanning the forest as his pulse raced.

  Where were the monsters?

  Then he saw movement.

  At first, the shapes were little more than distant blurs, at least thirty feet away, but as they drew closer, their forms sharpened into something unmistakably hostile.

  "What the fuck is that?" someone yelled.

  The group instinctively stepped backward as the creatures advanced. Rain equipped his sword, the unfamiliar weight settling into his hand.

  Green skin stretched across massive frames, and wide grins exposed rows of filthy, jagged teeth. Even from a distance, the stench reached him—rotting, sour, and overwhelming.

  Each creature stood well over six feet tall, towering above most of the group, nearly as tall as Rain himself. Crude wooden bats rested in their hands, already stained dark.

  Recognition struck him a moment before someone else voiced it.

  "Are those…" the man hesitated, his voice barely audible.

  "Goblins?"