The Tower had always been there. No one knew who built it, or if it had ever been built at all. It simply was—an immutable force rising beyond the clouds, beyond the stars, beyond what any mind could comprehend.
Inside, countless worlds flourished. Some were grand cities bathed in eternal light, others were endless wastelands of ash and bone. Each floor was its own universe, bound by unseen laws, ruled by unseen hands.
And from those floors, they were born.
The Dungeon Babies.
Not human. Not gods. Something in between. Each one an embodiment of their domain, tethered to the very fabric of their world. They did not ask to exist, nor were they given a choice. They simply awakened, knowing their purpose: to govern, to test, to watch.
But something was wrong.
Deep in the Tower's foundation, where the forgotten layers slept, a presence stirred. It moved without sound, without form, yet its whisper rippled through the stone, through the systems, through the very essence of the Tower itself. A crack in the perfect order. A secret buried for eons, beginning to surface.
And in a small, insignificant level-the Tutorial-a single Dungeon Baby smiled unaware that everything was about to change.