I found myself sitting cross legged on the floor, my hands resting gently on my knees. Everything around me was excessively bright. The air shimmered, and if I stared too long, my eyes began to sting.

Just moments ago, or perhaps only seconds earlier, I had been on the street. I could still feel the adrenaline and the weight of the mother and child as I shoved them aside. The force of the impact lifted me clean off the ground. Then I was inexplicably transported to this room.

I pushed myself upright. My knees rebelled briefly, but I managed to stand. I stretched my arms out, expecting to run into a wall. Nothing. The floor beneath me was cool and smooth, not too hard but undeniably solid. It was the only thing keeping me grounded.

There was no ceiling above, at least none that I could see. The light came from somewhere or nowhere, illuminating every corner. It hung in the air without warmth, only presence. The room, if it could be called that, had no sense of depth. Every direction repeated itself. It bore no resemblance to anything designed for humans.

I spoke mostly to break the silence. “Hello?”

No answer. My voice did not carry. The air swallowed it and left nothing behind.

I turned slowly, scanning again. Still no movement, no shift in light, no break in the surface. This place did not just lack features. It gave the sense of never having been meant for eyes to fall upon it.

Then a voice cut through the stillness.

“Welcome, Akira Sakamoto.”

Every part of me went rigid.

That voice was not in my head. It was real, close but not close enough to spot.

My eyes swept the area, but there was nothing. I drew a shaky breath and called out. “Who’s there? Where are you?”

Silence held for a moment. No movement, no figure stepping forward. Just the same pale light and empty air. Then the voice came again.

“I am what you refer to as the System.”

The name hit with deadweight. Not an answer, just a label tossed onto something beyond understanding.

I narrowed my eyes. “Where am I?”

“Do not be alarmed, Akira Sakamoto. There is no danger here,” it said. “You have been transferred, along with others, to partake in a game.”

“A game?” The word slipped out before I could stop myself. “What does that even mean?”

No reply. Nothing but the soft strain of my own breathing, and the creeping certainty that whatever this was, I was not waking up from it soon.

Then the voice returned.

“Yes. A game called ‘The Fortress of the Fallen.’ It involves conquering one hundred floors of a tower within the realm of Hyakujuu no Ansokusho.”

My brows furrowed. What Dungeon Master fell asleep on their keyboard and hit publish? This sounded like a fever dream that had forgotten it was not real.

I tried to respond, but my mouth did not catch up to my thoughts fast enough. A hundred floors? A realm? Who named anything that way? Were they building a boss fight for fun?

All I could do was stand there, breathing unevenly, every part of me asking the same thing at once.

What was really going on here?

Now I was apparently being enrolled in some tower game no one had asked me to join, getting briefed by a voice with all the warmth of a cold dial tone.

Quietly, just to myself, I muttered, “I should’ve just stayed home and played Mario Kart.”

Right then, something began to take shape in front of me. It was not physical. Light bent and gathered, forming a presence in space. It folded in on itself, collected, and resolved into a screen that shimmered into existence. Blue light pulsed from it, cycling through a flood of images.

Vast forests stretched where paths vanished and time seemed to slow. Jagged mountains rose high into the sky, daring anyone to climb them. Cities appeared next, nothing like anything I had seen back home. They were filled with strange buildings, towers, glowing signs, and people in armor and robes that looked more ceremonial than useful.

Then came the creatures. Dozens, maybe hundreds. Some stood as tall as a cherry blossom tree. Others had eyes too human, or limbs that moved in ways that defied gravity.

I had seen games before. Fantasy anime too. I had even spent actual money in gacha hell and hated myself afterward. But this unfolded as a journey through someone else’s imagination, witnessed while it still shaped itself.

The System’s voice cut in again.

“Your mission is to eliminate hostile beings known as Akai and they are classified as Red Creatures. You will work with other players designated as Aoi or Blue Players. Besides these, there are Yellow Creatures called Kiiroi Ikimono. Their behavior is unpredictable. If you encounter the Midoris who are identified as Green NPCs, you should accept their help when they offer it. It might be the only path forward on certain floors. Each floor tests more than strength. Remain alert. Climb. Conquer. Reach the highest floor and defeat the final boss. Only then will the path home reveal itself. High-ranking players will receive additional rewards.”

I stared at the screen with an expression that mixed disbelief and creeping regret.

You ever hit Accept All Cookies on something and realized too late it was a trap? Yeah, that was me right now.

I raised a hand, halfway in the posture of a student about to ask something foolish. My voice came out smaller than I intended.

“What rewards are we talking about?”

Silence. Then—

“If you are eliminated within the game,” said the System, “you will also die in your original reality.”

No sugarcoating. Straight to the “hope you updated your will” category.

“What?” My voice cracked. “You can’t be serious. I wasn’t signing up to die inside some alternate universe challenge dome.”

“Understood,” the System replied, tone unchanged. “Prepare for permanent elimination, Akira Sakamoto. Please confirm.”

My arms flailed before my brain caught up with them. “No, no, wait! I was joking! Don’t delete me, I’m not ready.” Both hands shot up, palms open. Pure panic reflex.

“Please refrain from making jokes during the briefing, Player Akira.”

I winced and bowed awkwardly toward the glowing screen. It felt stupid, but at this point, everything did. For all I knew, that screen was monitoring me.

“Do not fear, Player Akira,” the System said, voice trying for calm but missing by a mile. “To ensure equal footing between early and late entries, you will be given training.”

“Training?” My brows lifted.

Great. So I’d just die a little slower.

Still, I straightened up. “What training are we talking about?”

“You will undergo a tutorial phase in an environment modeled after Hyakujuu no Ansokusho,” it replied. “You will receive objectives and complete quests. There will be no contact with other Aoi Players or Human Midori. Instead, you will interact with Midoris from other races. If your reputation with a race is high enough, you may request their aid.”

Just great. Solo grinding in a creepy dream-world knockoff of reality. Sweet-talking fantasy diplomats just to survive floor one.

“During the Tutorial,” it went on, “you may strengthen your class, level your attributes, earn skills, and collect rewards.”

My brows rose. Now we were speaking a language I actually understood. Progression. Stats. Gear. Structure.

It was still insane, but at least it had boundaries. Boundaries meant there was a way to play. It beat the alternative, which was hovering in a blank void while getting lectured by Siri’s nihilist cousin.

I rubbed my jaw, mostly to keep my hands busy, though part of me was already wondering if I could game the system. Maybe exploit a few mechanics.

“And the time frame?” I asked.

“In both the Tutorial and the Live game, time is a non-factor,” it replied. “You may remain indefinitely. Even if hundreds of years pass, you won’t age.”

And there it was. The moment my soul briefly packed its bags and started searching for how to exit a simulation politely.

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “Hundreds of years? Who sticks around that long? What do you think I am, a digital monk?”

The System stayed silent. Of course it did.

“If you are eliminated during the Tutorial,” it continued, “you will transfer to the staging area. All players in your entry batch will gather there at the same time before the live game begins. Your attributes, skills, and rewards will carry over.”

Hey, a win was a win. No permadeath in the tutorial. I’d take it. Maybe I’d even get a chance to fail spectacularly without dying.

“Now, we will begin your attribute and class selection,” the System added.

The screen pulsed. Bars, labels, and icons arranged into something familiar. Strength. Dexterity. Intelligence. The classic building blocks of a character.

I pulled my shoulders back and set my jaw.

“Alright,” I murmured. A flicker of determination sparked in my chest. “If this was the game, then I was playing to win.”

The screen did not react. It just changed again, unfolding line after line of information and expected me to memorize everything before proceeding. Part of me wanted to laugh. The rest was already scanning for an edge.

Because if I was stuck in this place, I refused to be another forgotten name on some digital graveyard list. I was making it to the end.

_______________________________________

DARK — ANKOKU NO MONSUTĀ (MONSTER OF DARKNESS)

LIGHT — HIKARI NO MONSUTĀ (MONSTER OF LIGHT)

Both Attributes Are Denoted As Akai Creatures.

_______________________________________

Alright. Cool. We were in Pokémon territory now.

Light versus Dark. The classic setup. So much for that theory. It was dying faster than a level one mage in a boss raid.

Then the list unrolled before me and the floor seemed to bloom with question marks.

_______________________________________

1st–10th floor: Goblins — All Dark.

11th–20th: Lizardmen — Still Dark.

21st–30th: Orcs — Triple Dark.

31st–40th: Undead — Ultra Dark.

41st–50th: Dark Elves — Mostly Dark.

51st–60th: Vampires — You Guessed It, Dark Bloodsuckers.

61st–70th: Giants — Split Evenly.

71st–80th: Dragons — Even Again.

81st–90th: Angels — Mostly Light, But Some Got Problems Deciding Whose Side They Were On.

91st–100th: Demons — Surprise. All Dark And Evil.

_______________________________________

It turned out this game was not just deep. It was abyssal. You would need a submarine to find the bottom.

Light creatures appeared as rare cameos. The early floors opened in darkness, and the deeper you went, the darker everything became. Monsters carried horns, fangs, or tragic origin stories, and they behaved as if they were auditioning for a twisted drama anthology.

But this was not the time to dwell. The System was already moving.

“For the Light attribute,” it said, voice even and slow, “your power doubles when facing Dark monsters. The reverse applies when you choose the Dark attribute and face Light foes. No advantage exists when you fight with equal attributes.”

I nodded along, pretending it was not spinning around in my head. It seemed simple, but there was that creeping feeling that I had missed a fine-print clause somewhere.

“Please note that you cannot change your attribute during the Tutorial or the Live game. But one opportunity will be granted to swap it in the staging area before you begin your journey.”

So this choice signified. And I would not get a redo until later, if at all.

I folded my arms, eyes locked on the glowing selection panel. Dark exuded stylish, high-risk energy. Light seemed the obvious pick, since most of the monsters were dark.

The System chimed in again. “Please make your selection, Player Akira.”

I let out a breath and tapped the ‘Light’ button. A soft note rang out, and for a moment, everything went still. The screen throbbed, then froze my choice in place.

Something moved in my chest. It was not triumph exactly. The weight of commitment settled there instead.

You ever hit “Send” on a risky email and instantly regret it? Yeah. That, but existential.

“Proceeding to class and subclass selection,” the System announced, wasting no time. “Please review the Player Status guides before making your final selection.”

The display reshaped again. New menus opened, full of information,

________________________________________

PLAYER:

LEVEL:

CLASS:

SUBCLASS:

TITLE:

MAIN STATS

HEALTH POINTS (HP):

MANA POINTS (MP):

STRENGTH (STR):

DEXTERITY (DEX):

WISDOM (WIS):

CHARISMA (CHA):

INTELLIGENCE (INT):

LUCK (LCK):

UNALLOCATED STAT POINTS:

OVERALL PRESTIGE (P): +120% (MAX +1000%)

________________________________________

“Once you assigned your unallocated stat points, the distribution could not be undone,” the System warned. Its voice carried the distant echo of inevitability. “If your overall prestige dropped below negative ninety percent, you would be flagged as an Akai player—a criminal. You could only return to Aoi status by raising your prestige to one hundred percent.”

“Wait.” I frowned. “So I got slapped with a murder tag just for messing up a side quest?”

Yeah, that meant I’d be bowing to every grumpy quest-giver from here on out like my survival depended on it. Because apparently, it did. One wrong dialogue option and suddenly I was being hunted. It felt a little harsh for a game.

The System ignored me, of course. It kept going, reciting rules from a manual long forgotten in some cosmic back office.

“After choosing your main class and subclass, you will receive default stat points based on your innate ability and achievements in your real world,” it said. “For instance, individuals who had been active in sports received high strength and dexterity, classes such as Blademaster or Tanker might suit them. Those with backgrounds in medicine or similar knowledge excelled in Intelligence, making them effective in mage or support roles…”

Great. So now my real-life résumé was dictating my fantasy job class.

Let’s just hope binge-watching anime counted as a transferable skill.

I stared at the class icons. They gleamed, their presence demanding attention beyond mere names on a screen.

Sword fighter with flair and precision?

Heavyweight shield with resilience no one could match?

Strategist who kept the team alive and moving, reading every situation a step ahead?

I was caught in between. Not clueless. Just undecided. And that was the problem.

All I knew was that this was not just a stats screen. The game had stopped being theoretical. This was the moment I chose what kind of player I would become.

I shifted my weight and leaned closer. The glow of the screen caught the edge of my reflection, and it seemed to urge me toward a decision.

“Alright, System,” I said. “Let’s see the class list.”