In the peaceful foothills of a rugged mountain range on the eleventh floor of the Hundredfold Haven lay the village of Dunverholm. More than just a settlement, it was the very essence of the enduring bond between the hill dwarves and their land, a connection forged over generations.

Amidst the undulating green hills and winding streams, Dunverholm stood as an oasis of natural finery. At its heart was the Stout Oak, a gigantic tree. Its branches spread wide, forming a broad shadow over the central square where villagers gathered for trade, festivities, and communal activities.

The architecture here reflected the suppleness and craftsmanship of its inhabitants. Homes, crafted from local stone and timber, combined impeccably into the gentle slopes of the hills, their robust walls assimilating with the natural contours of the land. Cobblestone streets crisscrossed the village, passing shops with beautiful carvings and lively displays of craftsmanship from skilled dwarven masters. The air was filled with the scents of baked bread from the bakery, earthy fragrances wafting from the apothecaries, and the smoky aroma of wood fires spiraling from chimneys into the clear sky.

Beyond the village limits, terraced fields and orchards sprawled across the landscape in tended rows. Golden barley fields reached for the sunlight, destined for the brewing vats that produced Dunverholm’s renowned ales. Nearby, patches of potatoes flourished alongside apple orchards, their boughs heavy with ripening fruit. The pulsing cadence of work filled the air as families labored together, cultivating the land that sustained them.

Along the village’s border, watchtowers stood tall, manned by guards keeping a watchful eye over the surrounding countryside. The realms from the eleventh to the twentieth floors were home to the Akai lizardmen race, demanding a strong commitment to vigilance and security in this peaceable land.

As the sun began its ascent over the mountains, casting its light upon the village, a window on the second floor of a two-story building swung open. And guess what? That’s me, emerging into the morning air. Stretching my arms wide, I welcomed the dawn with a deep breath, filling my lungs with the scent of nature and fresh beginnings. My smile stretched from ear to ear, bright as the sun itself.

Allow me to introduce myself again. My name is Akira Sakamoto, an Aoi player stuck in the tutorial phase of the reality game known as The Fortress of the Fallen. The name felt heavy on my tongue, a persistent notification of my fate. For ten excruciatingly long years, I’ve endured a staggering total of eighty-one resurrections, each one underscoring my struggles and the solid grip of this digital prison. The game’s tutorial has ensnared me in a cycle, inundated by an insistent glitch that bars my transfer to the staging area, where other players are supposed to start the Live game together.

Inside the tower, time seemed to lose its meaning. Each moment stretched into perpetuity, trapping me in a suspended existence where every revival reinforced my solitary plight. I’ve witnessed the sun rise and set countless times, each day a poignant notice of the life that continued outside while I remained shackled to this endless loop.

Despite the repetition, I held on to hope that a heroic defeat would finally trigger the system to recognize its malfunction. Maybe that would liberate me from the confining constraints of the Tutorial phase and allow me to step into the world of the Live game. That thought propelled me forward, urging me to face each new day with renewed purpose. I promised myself that I would not be defined by this cycle, but would instead shape my own path to freedom.

It’s been almost three years since I vanquished Krag, the fearsome Goblin King, and his two sexy… let’s just call them bodyguards for now. That quest? It took a heavy toll, costing me five precious life tokens to emerge victorious from that battle. The obstinate intervention of Krag’s loyal bodyguards, Mirella and Nirella, prolonged the struggle. Their cunning tactics and loyalty to their king tested my will at every turn, delaying what could have otherwise been a swifter victory.

It was heart-wrenching to witness those two ladies explode under the assault of my hiishi projectiles. The loss was made even more poignant by the understanding that I would never see them again. After successfully clearing the tenth floor, it vanished from the tower’s floor list. Oddly, it didn’t reappear even when my life was reset upon reaching the eleventh floor, where I fell victim to a sudden ambush by a horde of Drakelings, youthful lizardmen known for their role as scouts in their society. The absence of the tenth floor from the game was indeed strange. However, all was not lost. On the eleventh floor, I encountered my first Midori, the Dwarves.

While wandering through the forest, I stumbled upon a dwarf child. His eyes were wide with terror as he fled from a Saurian, a lizardman of humanoid form, distinguished by its scaly skin, sharp claws, and a whip-like tail that lashed through the air. I intervened and rescued the young dwarf from harm’s way.

After the danger passed, the grateful child looked up at me in awe. Eager to repay my kindness, he took my hand, his small fingers clutching mine tightly. He led me through the forest to Dunverholm. As we walked, the child regaled me with tales of his people and their storied history. Little did I know this chance encounter marked the beginning of a connection with the dwarven community, setting the stage for meaningful relationships.

Two years had passed since that fateful meeting. I spent my time in Dunverholm delving deep into the vast repository of knowledge that the Dwarves possessed about the many Midori races inhabiting the tower. Their insights into the dynamics and relationships between these races and Aoi players, especially regarding prestige, were deeply enlightening.

Apart from us humans, there are eight other distinct Midori groups. The Dwarves, Elves, Halflings, Fairies, Centaurs, Gnomes, Gremlins, and Dryads. Each race brings its own unique traits to this diverse world.

The Dwarves, stalwart and industrious, are master craftsmen with unmatched expertise in mining and forging. The elegant Elves, with their deep knowledge of magic and the natural world, have an air of mystique about them. Halflings, known for their jovial nature and skill in agriculture, seem to thrive in the most unexpected corners of the tower. Fairies, with their beauty and affinity for nature, weave spells and maintain balance within their spheres.

Centaurs, proud and honorable, excel in combat and horsemanship, serving as both warriors and guardians. Gnomes, with their keen intellect and knack for invention, contribute to technological advancements and ingenious contraptions throughout the tower. Mischievous Gremlins, while unpredictable, have a knack for running businesses and turning chaotic situations into profitable ventures. Finally, the Dryads, guardians of the ancient forests, wield powerful nature magic and harbor deep wisdom about the land.

Just as I was lost in these thoughts, the sound of chattering and giggling drifted through the air. Peering down from the window of the house I rented, I spotted three young dwarf women strolling leisurely along the street.

Leading the group was Thrainna, with her fiery auburn hair flowing in loose waves. Her bright green dress caught the sunlight, accentuating her spirited demeanor. Durrina followed closely, her dark braid swinging as she walked, exuding an air of quiet confidence in her deep blue gown. The last of the trio, Brundis, sported a playful pixie cut and wore a sunny yellow dress that seemed to dance around her as she moved, matching her energy.

Like all dwarf women, they wore dresses fashioned from durable fabrics like wool or linen. They were practical, yet stylish for their everyday activities. Their dresses featured necklines that revealed a hint of cleavage, modest enough to respect their cultural norms while still allowing for a touch of femininity.

And that was the reason, my friend, why I loved waking up at this hour and looking out the window. It was a routine I had stuck to since moving here. From my vantage point, I could enjoy a bird’s-eye view of their firm assets. Aside from the goblin vixens, I believed the dwarf girls were the next best thing for a human teenage boy like me. Well, to be precise, a twenty-eight-year-old in Earth years, relishing fantasies about relationships with other races, females mostly.

“Hi, girls,” I called out to them. “Are any of you planning to attend the festival at Hillstone later this evening?” Given the proximity of two hill dwarf villages within a twenty-mile radius of each other, the festival was likely a popular event.

“Probably not, Kira-kun,” Thrainna replied, with Brundis chiming in. “We have other plans for tonight.” The three girls giggled, exchanging glances with me.

“What plans?” I asked, a smile playing on my lips.

“It’s a secret,” Durrina replied, and they all laughed before bidding me farewell.

These girls. I grinned, shaking my head. There was no secret they could hide from me. I had a good idea of what they were up to later in the night. I closed the window and began preparing my breakfast before heading to work.

So there you have it. Life in Dunverholm is never dull, and each day brings its own set of adventures and distractions. Stick around, and you’ll see what I mean.