Alonso emerged from the river, droplets trailing down his skin. With a swift motion, he ran his hand through his hair, scattering water in every direction. At the bank, he grabbed a wide piece of sun-dried bark he'd set aside—smooth enough to use as a makeshift towel—and rubbed it briskly along his arms and chest, letting the rough surface soak up the moisture.

He reached for his clothes, warmed by the sun on a nearby rock.

"It's good to be clean again," he murmured, breathing in the cool, earthy scent of damp leaves and fresh river mist.

"Well, you ate, slept, and now took a much-needed bath. Ready to continue the hunt?" Houston mused, sounding refreshed himself.

Alonso stretched, rolling his shoulders back, twisting his torso, and then bending forward to touch his toes. "As ready as I'll ever be. And let's test that plan on the first crab we find. No point in waiting."

"What? I thought we agreed to leave that for later! This is exactly what I was saying—you're changing things on a whim. I already warned you, it's dangerous—"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you, Houston. I know all the risks like the back of my hand, but—"

"No 'buts.' Just because you held back last time doesn't mean you always can. The waiting room incident was proof enough; you were pushing your limits recklessly without any control."

"Houston, I focused, sent a targeted wave to knock him out, and left the guy alive. If that's not control at 60%, then what is? Look, the issue back there was that I was unrestrained, throwing out waves without a purpose. But you've seen it yourself—in real fights, my control is solid, both over my body and the energy threads. Barring the full Overdrive feels like I'm holding myself back for no reason."

"Fine. But it's the same discussion, Alonso. You're stubborn, you know that? Just know that you're already the apex predator here at 40%. Why go beyond that?"

"Why? Because, Houston, it's like you told me: don't compare myself with others. Only with who I was yesterday. And right now? I want to surpass myself."

A deep, drawn-out sigh from Houston was his only response. After a few seconds, he replied, "Do whatever you want."

Alonso grinned, finished his stretches, and took off toward the beach, eager for his next sparring partner.

Less than 30 minutes later, he found one.

Ahead of him, patrolling the shore, was the familiar hulking form of a giant crustacean. He wondered if these creatures actually ate or if they simply… existed.

They were starting to feel more real as the trials progressed. Unlike the black-and-white creatures from before, this crab had a more natural coloration, even eyes that gave it an alert, almost aware look, and its movements seemed more intentional. Would they soon start acting like real animals? Hunting, feeding, forming packs?

Interesting, he mused. Anyway…

"Houston, ready whenever you are," he said, grinning as he heard a familiar sigh on the other end.

Overdrive 60%

As I stomp forward, dust rises around me. The beat of my heart is clear, strong—like a war drum, pushing me forward.

The surge in my veins echoes with each heartbeat. I feel it, powerful.

I grin as I charge, barely aware of the distance I'm covering, the breeze against my face, pushing my hair back as I go.

I see the crustacean; it's reacting, but too slow. Everything… is slow.

Its long legs lift and sink into the sand, the sound lagging behind. Sound… slower.

Vibration underfoot, sharper, faster, the wave rushing through the ground.

I close the gap, and the crab's already coming for me.

The pincer swings in, massive—almost the size of my whole body—but not fast enough.

This time, I don't sidestep. I'm confident.

The pincer swings closer, and I simply leap back, just before it would've connected.

Threads extend from my mind, woven together, capturing the motion of the pincer in every detail.

I wait for the snap. The shock is born just as the upper and lower halves meet.

And then it happens.

But I'm ready.

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I channel my threads, focusing them to a single point, a vortex of energy. Resonance.

My pulse cuts through the crab's omnidirectional shock wave like a ship slicing open water. Only a slight wave reaches me, minute, barely a ripple.

My pulse is finally strong enough.

I catch my reflection in the crab's eyes—my own smile looking back.

I tighten my grip on the sword.

I… feel alive.

September 21, 2024 - Paris, France

The two men leaned over their drinks, their words blending into the soft hum of the restaurant. One paused, looking out the window where the Eiffel Tower shimmered against the Parisian night, casting a delicate reflection in the champagne flutes scattered across nearby tables.

"One day, it's a war, the next it's a virus, and now—" He shook his head, still smiling. "Now we're at the mercy of an alien civilization. A heck of a life, don't you think?"

His friend raised his glass, watching the golden liquid swirl. "We've seen it all, haven't we? A life that's never given us a single dull moment. But this… this one feels different." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "The Tower. Imagine if they fail. What happens to the world then?"

The first man sighed, leaning back. "Think about it, old friend. We were born in a world still reeling from the war—heck, I didn't see a television until I was ten! And now, we've got supercomputers in our pockets, AI that talks back, and people walking around with their heads in the clouds, or rather, in some damn VR headset. The things we've lived to see… and now, aliens?"

"Retirement was supposed to be relaxing, wasn't it?" His friend smirked, taking a sip. "They always promised us the good life after all those years of work. But no, it's always something new. First, the Cold War, then computers, the internet, and now this?"

"Don't forget mobile phones." The first man chuckled. "Remember when you thought that flip phone was cutting-edge?"

"Oh, that was luxury!" His friend laughed, a warm, resigned sound. "But you know," he sighed, glancing at his hands, "for the first time, I'm a little uneasy about the future. My youngest boy is thirty-eight, right in the range. They could call him up for that damned Tower in the next ascent."

The first man shook his head, his gaze shifting to the glow of the tower outside. "Well, I'm lucky mine's just over 40. Guess he's safe from the call… for now." He let out a long breath. "But I understand. It's the mental toll that worries me. I know a fellow whose cousin went through the Tower, came back… shattered. He wasn't the same man. You can't go through that and come out the other side unscathed."

The second man took a sip, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "They say it changes you… and not just the climbers, either. Look around—every government's throwing money at this thing, hyping it up for the younger ones like it's the opportunity of a lifetime. All this talk about the Tower being the 'ultimate challenge'—it's practically a recruitment campaign. VR helmets on every shelf, new incentives, cash prizes, 'honor and duty' speeches… Makes you feel like they're gearing up for something, doesn't it? It's not like with COVID—back then, they scrambled just to keep up. This time, everything was ready, almost waiting for the go-ahead."

The first man leaned back with a smirk, his eyes glinting with that old spark of mischief. "Suspicious, isn't it? Like they know a lot more than they're telling us. And this whole ASCENT strategy they've cooked up? It's everywhere. You turn on the TV, there's an update on climbers; pick up a paper, they're talking about the VR helmet properties. I swear, it's in my morning coffee, my evening news—it's even in the soup!"

His face grew serious again as he leaned forward. "And just look at the latest numbers. Forty-six people made it to that second-tier challenge. Out of a million. And now it's down to forty-two." He let the words hang between them, his voice quiet but tense. "What are the odds they'll actually make it through? At this rate, forget about reaching the third tier—making it to the third challenge of the second feels like a gamble."

"Maybe that's the point." His friend's gaze drifted back to his glass. "It's survival. They say those climbers are up against monsters—twenty meters long, some of them. Giants." He let out a chuckle, shaking his head. "How can a human even fight something like that?"

The first man grinned. "And are they even human anymore? Those few who make it back… they're bound to come out different. And if they do, where will they belong? Here, with us?"

They sat quietly, the weight of their thoughts settling over them. Finally, the second man broke the silence with a dry chuckle. "You know, we've adapted to so many changes, and somehow, we've made it through each time. Humanity's nothing if not stubborn. Sooner or later, we'll find a way to fit this new world, even if it's without us."

The first man raised his glass, his face softening with warmth and nostalgia. "To the things we'll never understand."

The two men clinked their glasses, sharing a smile touched with a lifetime of memories and unspoken fears, as they watched the city lights shimmer—each a reminder of the world they had helped build and the strange, unknown future their children would inherit.

Stage 1 - 3.377%

Alonso landed lightly as the giant creature collapsed, a heavy cloud of dust rising around him.

He felt his senses dull as Overdrive dropped to 10%.

A faint tiredness weighed on him from holding it at 60% through the entire fight, but… it had felt great. It was—

"Addictive. That's the word you're looking for," Houston cut in. "I'm telling you, this is heading nowhere good. There's no need to push it this far."

"Push it, Houston?" Alonso's tone sharpened. "Are you saying you're confident I'll make it to the top of The Tower as I am now?"

"…"

"We're struggling even now, and my stage progress is, what, a measly 3% of a lowly Stage 1? We are basically at the bottom! So don't tell me we're pushing too much.. There's no 'too much' here. We're not here to be comfortable or play it safe—we're here to kill, survive, and climb this Tower." He took a deep breath, feeling the heat still pulsing through him from the aftermath of the fight. After a moment, he spoke again. "You think it's unnecessary? I just countered that crab's shock at close range more than a dozen times in a row. So tell me, Houston, where's my pulse level now?"

Houston sighed.

Alonso shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "You should update the status screen soon. Seems to be lacking as it is."

He cast a final glance at the crab. Not hungry now, but he marked the location in case he needed a quick meal later.

And with that, he took off, already scanning for his next target.

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