A chill ran down my spine. And I wasn't the only one affected. A girl nearby, no older than eighteen, swallowed hard.
Another man, burly and battle-scarred, gritted his teeth but said nothing.
We had all expected difficulty. But hearing it so plainly, so unapologetically — it was different.
"Some of you will not last past the first ten floors," Ordis continued, his voice unwavering. "Most will not reach Floor 50. And as for those who dare dream of the highest levels? You will either become legends… or your names will be forgotten among the countless who failed before you."
He let that sink in before finally, finally, his expression softened — just slightly.
"But know this: the Tower is not cruel. It is fair. Each of you has been gifted a Skill — a power that will shape your journey."
The text in the sky changed again, now displaying intricate symbols representing different abilities. Some glowed with flames, others crackled with lightning, while others pulsed with strange, shifting energy.
"These Skills are unique to you. They will be your weapons, your tools, your lifelines. Learn them. Hone them. Understand their limits and surpass them. Only then will you have a chance."
I felt something stir within me — a presence, an energy I hadn't fully acknowledged until now.
[Skill: Infinite Mimic]
I still didn't know what it truly did, but hearing Ordis speak, I realized something:
I was already behind.
Others here might have been warriors, mages, assassins — people who had spent their lives fighting, growing stronger.
But me? I had no idea how to use my ability, no knowledge of this world, no understanding of the Tower's mechanics.
If I didn't adapt fast, I wouldn't last long.
Ordis lowered his hand, and the glowing text faded from the sky. The air returned to its normal stillness, but the weight of his words lingered.
"Your first trial begins shortly. This is your last chance to steel yourselves. Once the Tower deems it time, there will be no turning back."
His eyes swept over us one last time, as if memorizing our faces.
"Climb with resolve. Climb with purpose. And perhaps… you will make it further than most."
With that, his form began to fade. The flowers on his robe wilted, petals dissolving into golden light.
His entire body followed suit, breaking apart into shimmering particles until there was nothing left but the empty sky.
A deep, resounding boom echoed across the arena.
Then —
[PRE-TRIAL: THE AWAKENING GATE]
[Defeat the Guardian or perish.]
[Time limit: 30 minutes.]
The moment the message appeared, a massive roar shook the ground.
I turned sharply, and my breath caught in my throat.
Emerging from the darkness of the arena's far gate, a creature of iron and stone stepped forward.
Its body was twisted and jagged, its four arms ending in massive, curved blades that scraped against the ground. Its eyes — if they could even be called that — glowed like molten fire.
The Awakening Gate's Guardian had arrived.
The moment the Trial Notification had appeared in the sky, I had a single thought:
"Thirty minutes. That's our time limit."
That meant one of two things — either the Tower was generous enough to give us a long window to kill the Guardian, or…
The Guardian wasn't that strong, right?
Right?!
A deafening boom shook the arena as the Guardian's massive frame stepped forward.
Its iron-plated body gleamed under the dim, flickering torchlight, joints of stone grinding against one another as it shifted unnaturally fast for something its size.
The red glow in its hollow eye sockets burned brighter, as if acknowledging the prey before it.
The scarred man moved first.
He had thick arms covered in old battle wounds and carried two swords, one in each hand.
He wasn't hesitating — not even for a second. The glow surrounding his body intensified as he launched himself forward with a war cry.
"GLORY RUSH!"
His skill's name rang through the air like a battle hymn. I had no idea what it did, but whatever Glory Rush meant, it was fast.
His entire body blurred, momentum carrying him forward like a living missile.
The Guardian's blade-like arms came down, intent on reducing him to nothing.
But he was ready.
At the last second, he bounded to the side, his movement crisp and precise.
His swords flashed in the torchlight — one clean slash at the Guardian's left leg.
A horrible screeching noise rang out as the Guardian's limb was severed completely.
The sheer force of his skill tore through the plated exterior like it was paper, sending shards of stone and iron scattering across the ground.
The Guardian stumbled.
A shocked silence fell over the arena.
"Holy shit, he actually — " someone muttered.
The man grinned. He lowered his guard.
And in that split second, he made a fatal mistake.
He leapt up, blades raised, fully prepared to end the fight in one final blow.
But before he could —
The Guardian spun.
Its leg had already regenerated.
A glowing red aura stitched its body back together, as if time itself had been undone.
The Guardian's momentum carried through, one massive blade arcing through the air faster than something that size should have been able to move.
Schlick.
The sound was wet.
For a moment, it looked like nothing had happened. The man's body hung in midair, a look of disbelief frozen on his face.
Then, his torso split apart.
Two equal halves fell to the ground, blood painting the stone in dark pools.
The first contestant was dead.
Just like that.
Someone screamed.
I was already running.
Not towards the Guardian — away FROM IT.
I wasn't stupid. This wasn't a game where we had infinite retries. That man had gone in thinking he had the advantage, that his skill alone would let him walk away victorious.
And he had been cut down in seconds.
We were cooked.
"Move!" someone yelled.
The crowd exploded into chaos. Some people sprinted for cover, hiding behind broken pillars and walls that lined the edges of the arena.
Others activated their own Skills — bursts of flame, flashes of light, and strange, unnatural ripples in the air appeared as magic and abilities were thrown into play.
A girl with blue runes glowing on her arms pointed both hands forward.
"FROST LANCE!"