Nathan sat on a park bench, staring up at the giant tower that loomed over the city. It was a monstrous thing, stretching up into the night sky like a skeletal finger, casting a long shadow over the surrounding buildings. He took a swig from the bottle of beer in his hand and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. His leather armor was still stained with dirt and blood, and his sheathed sword was heavy on his back.
He had just returned from a raid attempt on the third floor's boss monster with his party, but it had gone horribly wrong. Most of his friends, his closest allies, had died in the battle. Only a few had managed to escape and reach safety, including him. He felt guilty for surviving when his friends had perished, and the weight of that guilt pressed heavily upon his shoulders.
Nathan hated the tower, hated what it represented. It had ruined his life, and the lives of those around him. He took another swig of beer and let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing through the empty park. "Stupid tower," he muttered to himself, his voice thick with anger and frustration. "Stupid, goddamn tower."
He began to rant, the words pouring out of him like a dam had burst. "Why did it have to appear? Why did it have to bring monsters and death with it? Why did it have to take my friends away from me? What did we do to deserve this?"
He didn't know how long he sat there, ranting to himself, but eventually, his anger began to ebb away, leaving behind a deep sense of sadness and loss. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared out at the empty park. The only sound was the distant hum of the tower, a low, ominous noise that seemed to fill the night air.
Nathan closed his eyes, trying to push away the memories of the battle. He could still hear his friend's screams, the sound of swords clashing, and the roar of the boss monster. He could still smell the acrid stench of blood and sweat, the metallic tang of fear.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He knew he couldn't go on like this, couldn't let the tower consume him. He had to find a way to move on, to find a new purpose in life.
Nathan stood up, tossing the empty beer bottle into a nearby trash can. He took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs. He could feel the weight of his sword on his back, a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked within the tower.
He began to walk, his feet taking him down empty streets, past darkened buildings. The tower was always in the corner of his eye, a constant presence that seemed to watch him as he walked.
He didn't know where he was going, didn't have a destination in mind. He just needed to move, to keep walking until he found something that would give him purpose again.
As he walked, he thought about his friends, about the moments they had shared together. He remembered the laughter, the camaraderie, the sense of belonging that had come with being part of a guild. He missed them, missed the feeling of being part of something greater than himself.
He stopped at a street corner, leaning against a building and staring up at the tower. It was even more massive from this angle, seeming to stretch up into infinity. He could see the pulsing glow of the tower's light at the very top, a beacon of hope or a warning of danger, depending on one's perspective.
Nathan let out a deep sigh and pushed himself away from the building, continuing his aimless wander. He walked for what felt like hours, his feet carrying him through deserted streets and empty alleyways. The tower was always there, a constant reminder of the dangers and mysteries that lay within.
Finally, he found himself in front of a small bar, the neon sign flickering in the darkness. It looked like the kind of place where the regulars outnumbered the tourists, and the atmosphere was warm and welcoming. Nathan hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door and stepping inside.
The bar was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Nathan found an empty stool at the end of the bar and sat down, ordering a beer from the gruff bartender. He took a sip, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat.
He listened to the conversations around him, the low murmur of voices and the clink of glasses. He felt a sense of comfort in the familiarity of it all, in the mundanity of the world outside the tower.
As he sat there, lost in thought, a man approached him from the other end of the bar. He was tall and lean, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore a long black coat, and Nathan could see the glint of a sword at his hip.
"Mind if I join you?" the man asked, gesturing to the empty seat next to Nathan.
Nathan hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Sure, I guess," he said, taking another sip of his beer.
The man sat down next to him, ordering a whiskey from the bartender. He took a sip, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Tough day?" he asked, looking over at Nathan.
Nathan nodded, feeling a sense of relief at being able to talk to someone who might understand. "Yeah, you could say that," he said, taking a deep breath. "My guild tried to take down the boss on the third floor, and most of my friends...they didn't make it."
The man looked sympathetic, his eyes flickering with understanding. "I know how you feel," he said, taking another sip of whiskey. "I lost my entire guild on the fifth floor. It's a rough world we live in."
Nathan sighed, staring down into his beer. "Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it. All the pain, all the sacrifice...is it worth it for a chance at the top of the tower?"
The man took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes distant. "I used to think it was. When I first entered the tower, I was driven by ambition. I wanted to be the best, to conquer the tower and become a legend."
Nathan looked at him, curious. "What changed?"
The man shrugged. "Life happened, I guess. On the fifth floor, I lost my friends, my comrades, my family. I realized that the tower wasn't just a game, it was life or death. And I wasn't sure if I was ready to risk everything for a shot at the top."
Nathan felt a sense of kinship with the man, a shared sense of loss and pain. "What do you do now?" he asked.
The man chuckled ruefully. "I'm a solo hunter now. I wander the floors, taking on jobs and challenges as they come. It's not the most glamorous life, but it's a living. And it beats dying on some boss's blade."
Nathan nodded slowly, feeling a sense of respect for the man. "That takes guts," he said. "To go it alone like that."
The man shrugged. "It's not for everyone. But for me, it's better than being part of a guild that might betray you, or lead you to your death."
They sat in silence for a few moments, lost in their thoughts. The man finished his whiskey, setting the glass down with a sigh.
"Well, I should be going," he said, standing up. "Good luck to you, and stay safe."
Nathens finished his final drink and stood up, paying for his drinks and walking out into the chilly night air. Nathan continued to walk through the deserted streets, lost in his own thoughts. The empty city was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of activity that he was used to seeing during the day. It was almost as if the city was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
As he walked, Nathan couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. He kept turning around, expecting to see someone following him, but there was never anyone there. It was just his imagination, he told himself. He was still on edge from the battle on the third floor of the tower.
But then it happened again. Nathan felt a presence behind him, a cold shiver running down his spine. He turned around, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword. But there was nobody there. Nathan frowned, feeling uneasy.
He kept walking, but the feeling of being watched only grew stronger. It was like a weight on his back, pressing down on him. He tried to ignore it, but it was impossible. Every time he turned around, there was nobody there. But he knew that he was being followed.
Nathan quickened his pace, hoping to shake off whoever was following him. But the footsteps behind him only grew louder, closer. He broke into a run, sprinting down the deserted streets. But the footsteps kept pace with him, never faltering.
Finally, Nathan came to a stop, panting and gasping for air. He turned around, his hand still on his sword, ready to face his attacker. But instead of a person, he saw a shadow. It was a tall, dark figure that stood around forty feet away from him.
Nathan's heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the shadow. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It seemed to be made of pure darkness, with no discernible features. It was like a void, sucking in all the light around it.
The shadow didn't move, but Nathan could feel its malevolent gaze fixed on him. He couldn't move, couldn't think. He was paralyzed with fear.
And then, suddenly, the shadow spoke.
"Who are you?" It was a deep, rumbling voice that seemed to come from all around him.
Nathan didn't answer. He couldn't. He was frozen in place, staring at the shadow.
The shadow waited for a moment, then spoke again. "Do you hate the tower, Nathan?" it asked.
Nathan's mind reeled. How did this shadow know his name? And how did it know about his feelings toward the tower? He hesitated for a moment, then answered truthfully.
"Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I hate it. I hate everything about it."
The shadow seemed to nod, though Nathan couldn't see any movement. "And do you want to see it crumble?" it asked.
Nathan hesitated again, then nodded. "Yes," he said. "I want to see it fall. I want to see it destroyed."
The shadow began to fade away, its edges blurring and melting into the darkness. "Good luck," it said. "We will be watching."
Nathan stood there for a moment, watching as the shadow disappeared. He was filled with a mixture of fear and curiosity. What was that thing? What did it want from him? And who was "we"? Nathan had a feeling that he didn't want to know.
He turned to walk away, still trying to process what had just happened. But then his vision began to blur, and he stumbled forward. He tried to catch himself, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. The last thing he remembered was the sound of his head hitting the sidewalk with a sickening thud.