The Ascent Begins

The first floor of the tower is a place of trial, at least for those who seek to reach the very top of the tower. A young dragon in her 4,901 years of life is enjoying a peaceful afternoon beneath a sprawling ancient tree on this very first floor near the area where tower climbers take the test.

Known throughout the lands, her name alone inspires dread and fear. The white dragon, Daneya. Even in her human form, she carried an aura of ageless power, the kind that made other creatures instinctively lower their gaze.

Her long white hair, the color of spun moonlight, flowed around her, framing a face of serene beauty. But within those vibrant purple eyes, the unmistakable hallmark of the dragon race resided a depth of ancient cunning and a ruthless indifference to mortals' fleeting lives.

As her back lay against the thick trunk of the tree, twirling a strand of her hair with her finger, she thought to herself, 'What to do?' Just then, she sensed a sudden influx of people in a nearby town. It was a subtle vibration strong enough to be noticed by the high human race, much less by a dragon.

She squinted her eyes, thinking about those fresh batch of hopeless fools eager to risk their lives for a wish that probably wouldn't be worth it anymore by the time they actually reached the top.

The dragon rolled her eyes. Reach the top, those fools? The shortest amount of time a human reached the top was four hundred years, and only two people have accomplished such a feat. It's known how challenging the tests are. It's proven by the fact that for two hundred years now, no one has ever reached the floor above the seventieth.

A sardonic smile touched her lips. They thought the tests were challenging? They had no idea. Making things difficult was beneath her. Daneya preferred to obliterate any semblance of hope they might have had. It was more…efficient.

She rose, her movement fluid and graceful, like a dancer's. The sunlight seemed to bend around her as she stepped away from the tree, a silent promise of the storm to come.

She sensed over two hundred people approaching the nearby town. That must be where the test is going to be held. Such a place is called the test area. It is where Ascenders or Tower Climbers take the test to move on to the next floor. Each test has three tiers. This must be tier two, considering tier one is usually held individually.

Daneya spread her arms open while closing her eyes, her head facing the test area. She took a deep breath and mouthed, "Let the chaos begin."

****

The dust motes danced in the weak light filtering through the grimy windows of the inn like tiny golden conspirators. I leaned against the cool, rough wall of the inn. Since our arrival, the once lively laughter and cheerful voices have faded into an eerie silence. The people who were here before us definitely weren't happy to have us here. Well, I'm not happy either, but I don't know where else to go except to follow the crowd.

Since I've come into this place, I haven't managed to relax. It's like I wasn't even allowed to grieve. My hands trembled.

No. I shook my head. Keep it at the back of your head, Ra- no. Riju. I must stay focused. I must... I... The memory of that day rushes back to me, vivid and haunting, as if it happened only yesterday. My mother, my father, my hometown, everything that I've ever known my entire life, gone. Turned to ashes. I closed my eyes as I felt the warm rushing of tears in my eyes. I must stay focused. I told myself as I tried to calm my nerves. Suddenly, I heard two people talk behind me. Their tone was hushed.

"Three days and three nights, they're saying. And only half of us will pass! Half! That's a hundred people dying. To find that stupid stone or something." I held the hem of my clothes tightly. I heard the other person, a woman's voice scoffed. "Seriously, who makes these tests? They're so random. Even last year, I heard that the test was about finding a lost cat. The punishment, death!"

"Tell me about it." the man chuckled humorlessly. "But didn't they say tests like that are something we should be grateful for? Someone I knew who was already on the 10th floor told me that they had a test where they had to vote amongst their three-man team on who would die. That's more fucked up." His voice dripped with frustration.

"Who makes these tests? How can they make a test that makes our death so meaningless?"

I know the stakes, and I know they do, too, so why are they acting this way now? Shouldn't they, as someone who was born in this tower, know better than I do about the consequences of failure? Or am I the strange one for accepting my fate without any questions? I was suddenly thrown into this world and, with very little explanation, forced to take the test.

I wasn't presented with an option like them. I didn't choose this for myself: to be in this world that I didn't know existed until a week ago, to have one goal but to reach the top and have my wish be granted.

"My wish, huh?" I muttered as I glanced at the ceiling. My wish can't be granted. That being already told me so. I can have anything else except for that very one thing.

I feel hopeless.

I find myself displeased with my current situation: confined to this dilapidated inn, listening to others dwell on their fears. However, it is preferable to engage in conversation. There may be a certain comfort in not knowing; if I hold back my tendency to overanalyze, I may dodge that nagging feeling of dread that looms over me all the time.

Suddenly, the cheerful clinking of tankards was interrupted by a low rumble that vibrated through the floor beneath me. My eyes went wide as I instantly realized something was off.

As the tremors increased in intensity, I experienced a surge of anxiety. There was a strong upheaval here, not just a little shaking. Almost at once, a dense cloud of black smoke rushed through the windows of the inn, followed by the flickering light of the orange flames.

Shouts and cries filled the air as the once-calm atmosphere—which was made up of clinking drinks and quiet conversations—became turbulent. The men at the table leaped to their feet, toppling their drinks as they did so. I trailed closely behind, my stomach roiling with nervousness like a raging hurricane.

They shoved past the other customers, who were all frantically making their way to the door. I followed, the words of the men ringing in my ears with renewed terror – "Half of us won't make it." Oh God. If we fail the test... we die."

"We're finished before the test has even started!" a voice lamented in hopelessness. "Look up! See the sky!"

Unwillingly, Riju, propelled by the frightened crowd, lifted his gaze. There she was, a ghostly figure silhouetted against the smoke-filled sky.

Her long, white hair cascaded like a river of starlight, shimmering in the crimson glow as if it had captured the moon's very essence.

A sudden ache pierced his heart. Moonlight. Memories of his hometown flooded back—now reduced to mere embers and echoes—where the moon once bathed its sidewalks in soft luminosity. A tidal wave of sorrow engulfed him, that all-consuming sensation swelling in his chest, threatening to drag him beneath the surface. It was the same oppressive despair he had felt when everything slipped away: his family, his home, and the moon that would no longer illuminate his journey.

His sight was hazy from the tears about to fall. He blinked to get rid of the fog that was clouding his vision. Now, he saw her clearly. She was not just a beautiful woman; she was a force. Looking at her, he was reminded not only of the moon he loved and missed but also of his father's.

The eyes reminded him greatly of him. They had a gaze capable of both melting glaciers and sparking wildfires. Instead of the dull, flat purple seen in an amethyst, they presented a rich, radiant purple, reminiscent of a nebula, swirling with hidden strength and ancient knowledge. The irises contained galaxies of glimmering particles, mirroring the light of the fire, the dusk sky, and a hint of something else altogether – something wild and untamed.

"Dragon," Riju murmured, barely above a whisper. In the midst of all the turmoil, there was a sound that appeared to be audible only to him, yet that was not the case.

Daneya, a member of the race symbolizing wrath and obsidian, hovered above the devastated village. Her shimmering white hair swirled with the flames, instilling fear and despair in all it touched. She surveyed the destruction like a predator on the hunt, her gaze finally settling on the boy who had whispered the word 'dragon.' Among the crowd gathered there, some screamed, some fled, and some fell into hopelessness, yet he was the only one who couldn't take his eyes off her.

He was a young boy, just on the other side of childhood, standing in the midst of the fiery blaze. Riju. His golden hair, normally a flowing emblem of vibrant energy was charred at the tips. But it was his eyes that captured her soul and captivated her. His eyes were like shards of sunlight, bright and pure gold. Rather than reflecting the chaos, they exuded a powerful, inward light, a light that spoke to something deep inside her. It was as if the little boy's pupils had become home to a little universe.

She became intrigued by him, but a dragon's fascination is far from positive. It's something to fear, as it often brings even more sorrow to the one being observed.

She sensed an unusual emotion in the way this young boy stared at her. It wasn't like the glances she'd received before. He seemed to have known her before. His eyes gleamed with curiosity and nostalgia. She felt drawn in. What were his thoughts? I sensed fear from him, but it was not directed at me. She wanted to know what he was thinking. Yet, at that instant, a powerful emotion welled up inside her.

A primal urge for blood. An insatiable fire that threatened to consume her from within. A feeling she only felt when she met another dragon for the first time. She just realized she had a connection to this boy. It struck her that he was not entirely human. Could there be a sense of kinship? As if he was, in some way, one of them. A Dragon. Yet simultaneously, it felt different. What could it mean?

Save it. Overthinking was never her strong suit. She preferred to handle matters decisively by way of death.

Countless questions swirled in her mind, but once this boy was gone, they would cease to matter.

If only she had realized then, in that instant, how their lives would become entangled. If only she understood that this boy with golden eyes would evolve into her anchor, her peace, her everything. Would she, immersed in the fiery light of her making, still have cut his throat with cold indifference?

Warm blood seeped from his neck, soaking his body in its heat. His small, trembling hand reached for the wound. It hurts. It hurts mother, father. He collapsed to his knees. Once more, he experienced the solitude he felt while pleading with his parents to allow him to stay with them. To die together as a family. He believed he would reunite with them. It wouldn't be long; the dreadful ache in his heart would vanish by morning, and he would once again feel the soft, warm embrace of his parents, just like the way they used to hold him.

The question lingered in the atmosphere, unanswered, a dark and relentless mystery. The flames crackled fiercely, and Daneya, the personification of destruction, made her decision. For the time being, the sorrow would persist. For the time being, Riju would simply be another casualty in her trail of havoc. Yet, it appeared the universe had different intentions. The initial spark of transformation had already been sown, concealed deep within the tumultuous essence of a destroyer and a boy radiating like the dawn.