The world had a problem. A big problem.

The sky wasn't just broken—it was having a full-on existential crisis. Lightning the color of a really bad omen zigzagged across the heavens, carving out dramatic special effects that made the local doomsayers go, "See? We told you so!"

And in the middle of it all, rising like the world's most ominous middle finger to logic, was the Tower of Paradox.

Nobody knew where it came from. Nobody knew who built it. But everybody definitely knew one thing: If something looked that evil, it was either full of treasure, full of monsters, or full of treasure guarded by monsters. And that was all the excuse adventurers needed.

At the base of the tower, a ragtag group of misfits had gathered. Heroes. Lunatics. People who really should have thought twice before leaving home.

Among them:

Sir Garrik the Unbreakable – A knight whose armor had seen more battles than his sword (because, fun fact, he forgot how to actually use it).

Marla the Magnificent – A mage with too many fire spells and not enough restraint.

Rizzo Quickfingers – A thief so good at stealing that he once pickpocketed himself by accident.

Gary. Just Gary. – Nobody knew what he did. He just showed up.

And then… there was him.

A lone figure in a tattered cloak, standing at the very front. Hood drawn low. Silent. Mysterious. The kind of person who made everyone assume he had tragic backstory privileges.

His hand hovered over a small, glowing sigil hanging from his neck.

"Finally…" he murmured to himself.

"…Lunch break?" Rizzo asked, leaning in.

The hooded man exhaled through his nose. "No. The Tower has awakened."

"Ohhh," Marla said. "Wait, that's bad, right?"

Before anyone could answer, a voice boomed across the sky, shaking their very souls.

"ENTER, AND CLAIM YOUR FATE."

There was a pause.

"…Do we have to?" Gary asked.

But it was too late. The ground beneath them shifted, and the entrance of the Tower yawned open like a hungry beast. One by one, whether out of courage, greed, or just because the plot demanded it, they stepped inside.

And the world vanished.

Welcome to the Worst Decision of Your Life!

Inside, the air was wrong. It didn't smell like anything. It didn't feel like anything. It was like standing inside a thought that hadn't been fully formed.

"Okay," Sir Garrik said, raising his sword. "Rule number one of adventuring: Stay calm, stay together, and—"

He took one step forward. The floor promptly ate him.

"…GARRIK?!" Marla shrieked.

The knight's muffled voice echoed from below. "I'M OKAY! BUT I'M PRETTY SURE THE FLOOR HAS TEETH."

"Oh, fantastic," Rizzo groaned. "A building that's actively trying to eat us. Who builds this stuff?!"

Then, as if to answer, a glowing message appeared in the air, burning with an eerie light:

> Floor 1: The Trial of Identity.

> Find yourself, or be forgotten forever.

A heavy silence fell over the group.

Then:

"…Ohhh," Gary said. "I get it. It's one of those places."

The hooded man stepped forward, eyes locked on the path ahead. His past? Meaningless. His name? Unimportant. But here, in the Tower of Paradox, he saw something greater than fate.

He saw a chance to rewrite it.

Or, at the very least, survive long enough to find out who built this insane place.

With a deep breath, he stepped forward.

Somewhere above them, something ancient stirred.

Somewhere below them, Sir Garrik was still in a fight with the floor.

And thus, the adventure began.