*In the realm of digital rule-breakers, I reign supreme.*
Under a shrouded moon, darkness draped the landscape while thousands of tiny lights flickered over an endless dune. Yet this was no ordinary sand—it was a crimson desert, every grain tinted with the hue of blood.
The restless sands swirled around legions of warriors, their eyes fixed on a solitary figure. Their armor shimmered with a ghostly luminescence, reflecting the uncanny aura of the lone man at their center.
A tall, muscular figure with midnight-black hair stood with unwavering confidence. His armor—a patchwork of jagged shards that interlocked as if alive—seemed to writhe subtly like delicate feathers. A slender cloak spilled from his left shoulder, drifting as though it had a mind of its own.
Even without brandishing a weapon, his faint smile and predatory, golden eyes exuded an unmistakable menace.
He remained motionless—a shadow captured in time—and the thousand men before him mirrored his stillness. Neither side stirred.
At least, not within the confines of the game.
Beyond the monitor, reality painted a different picture.
In a modest, cluttered room, a man slumped in his chair, his gaze fixed on the digital avatar before him.
Yet his true focus lay to the right, where nimble fingers danced over a keyboard, weaving through thousands of lines of code.
This was Riven Graves.
For him, hacking wasn't merely a pastime—it was an art. He had cracked every game that dared defy him, even on easy mode. Now, he was attempting the unthinkable: breaking the hardest game ever created.
This game was his ultimate test.
As Riven watched his avatar confront the thousand unmoving enemies, his mind raced, injecting fresh code into the famed MMORPG *The Tower of Supreme Reign*.
Dark circles framed his tired eyes; his cracked lips clutched the edge of a juice pack as its liquid dwindled minute by minute.
His lean frame hunched over, legs crossed, while sweat trickled from beneath his black headphones.
The air was heavy with a pungent blend of sweat and air freshener, punctuated only by the low hum of the air conditioner and the gentle glow of his PC's RGB lights.
Around him, a chaotic scatter of empty noodle cups and crushed juice packs bore silent testimony to his long hours.
The room itself was a monument to neglect—a steel bed buried beneath heaps of trash, and dust-coated doorknobs adorning the two doors on his right.
One door led to the bathroom; the other, to the outside world. The thick layer of dust on the exterior knob spoke of days without use.
Yet amid the disorder, one area shone with obsessive precision: his gaming setup. His PC, three conjoined screens, mouse, and keyboard were maintained with near-religious care.
After another half-hour of feverish keystrokes, Riven finally eased his hands from the keyboard. He cracked his neck, exhaled deeply, and nonchalantly flicked the empty juice pack behind him. With ragged breath, he announced,
"Finally, I can finish this stupid floor and move on."
Without a moment's hesitation, he keyed in a precise sequence:
*W -> Q -> E -> Ctrl + A -> Left Click -> Right Click*
In an instant, the fruits of his week-long labor coalesced above every enemy—or rather, above every entity on the floor—as millions of black swords with silver blades materialized, poised to strike.
A triumphant grin spread across his face as he stretched his legs and leaned back, savoring the moment. Soon, he would clear this floor without ever engaging in a single combat move.
Riven had devoted himself to this game for five long years, ever since he was fifteen and first discovered the thrill of modding—adding cheat mods to level the playing field.
At first, despite relentless grinding, he had never matched the skills of others. So he set himself a radical new goal:
If he couldn't beat the game on its own terms, he'd force it to bend to his will.
Like many before him, he viewed hacking as a duel—not just against the game, but against its creators.
Yet Riven was different. He never peddled his mods, never posted them on piracy sites, never shared them. All he craved was to finish the game he loved—no matter the cost.
For a few precious minutes, he basked in the glow of his success, watching his unmoving avatar amidst a floor notorious for its brutal difficulty.
Once a player stepped onto this perilous floor, they were confronted by a thousand foes—and the real horror lay in the fact that these enemies were perfect replicas of the player.
If his avatar moved, they moved.
If he unsheathed a sword, they did the same.
If he attacked one, all thousand struck in flawless unison, aiming straight for his heart.
This game is extremely difficult.
Since the new floor DLC dropped only a week ago, every entrant has perished within minutes. Some managed to endure for hours, but ultimately, every player met the same brutal fate—forced to restart at floor one with a merciless penalty.
Yes, infinite respawns were not an option. Only the first player to clear a floor could save their progress, and upon death, they would respawn at that specific saved floor.
For the past ten floors, that coveted advantage belonged solely to Riven Graves—and no one dared challenge it.
He had raced through those floors at an almost inhuman pace using cheat mods, but to him, it wasn't enough.
He still yearned for a genuine challenge. He had fought enemies, he had played the game—and now, everything was about to change.
After a week of reverse-engineering the game's code, injecting new scripts, and modifying its executable, Riven had finally implemented the ultimate cheat:
The power to obliterate every foe on the floor—except himself.
Determined never to repeat his past mistakes, he ran a hand through his tousled hair as his finger hovered over the *SPACE* key.
With a single, deliberate press, the black swords above every enemy plunged downward.
In the blink of an eye, thousands of adversaries disintegrated into nothingness while his avatar remained standing—still, unyielding, victorious.
All that was left was the silent confirmation: the pop-up rewards screen that would validate his triumph.
He waited. And waited. And waited.
Yet the screen remained unchanged. No reward window. No celebratory fanfare—only an eerie, unmoving silence. A creeping doubt slithered into his mind:
'Don't tell me the developers already caught me…?'
Suddenly, his chair lurched violently.
The wheels snapped off, sending him crashing to the floor. The very building trembled. His monitors shuddered as debris—once mere garbage—whirled about like fragments in a tempest.
"Earthquake?!"
Riven gasped in alarm, his heart pounding as he scrambled upright, leaning desperately against the wall.
The shaking intensified. Monitors toppled, and to his horror, cracks raced across the walls while chunks of ceiling crumbled onto the floor.
"The building is collapsing!"
He roared, his voice echoing through the chaos.
Instinct overpowered reason.
Riven dashed toward his PC, yanking out every cable as if stripping the machine of its very essence. Clutching the precious device like a prized artifact, he sprinted for the door leading outside.
With frantic determination, he forced the door open and bolted into the light.
The sudden burst of sunlight stung his eyes, forcing him to squint. The stale air of his room was instantly replaced by something vast and open.
He blinked furiously as his vision adjusted and his heart pounded. And then, he saw it:
A structure so colossal it defied belief, its base seemingly rooted deep in the earth and its peak lost among the clouds.
A tower.
His breath caught in his throat.
"A fucking tower," he murmured in disbelief.
[End of Chapter]