Floor 57 of the Celestial Tower was a place few fighters understood and even fewer mastered.
A shifting arena of floating drums—
massive circular plates suspended in the air—
each one emitting vibrations when stepped on.
Some produced shockwaves.
Some bounced fighters into the sky.
Some pulsed rhythmically in patterns that controlled the layout of the next platforms.
The entire floor worked on one principle:
Step wrong, and the tower throws you off.
Step right, and the tower becomes a dance.
Julian Breadstone swooped in wearing a full marching-band uniform with a feathered plume taller than his torso.
"HELLO YOU BEAUTIFUL NOISES OF EXISTENCE!!!
Are you ready for RHYTHM?! BECAUSE THIS NEXT FIGHTER IS ALL ABOUT IT!"
Jimmy dragged a hand down his face.
"You're wearing a tuba."
Julian gasped.
"IT IS A STATEMENT PIECE."
But he calmed as the screens focused on a lone figure standing atop one of the larger drum-platforms.
A young man—
lean, wiry, built like someone who moved constantly and slept rarely.
Dark copper skin.
Eyes wide with alertness.
Hair tied in a loose knot.
Bandages wrapped around his forearms and ankles.
He carried no weapon.
Only a small wooden metronome, tied gently around his neck with string.
His name hovered above him:
Kai Sarin – The Tempo Fighter
Jimmy blinked.
"A metronome fighter. We haven't had one of those in years."
Julian squealed.
"I LOVE HIM ALREADY! HIS ENTIRE APPLICATION WAS JUST 'I'm good with beats.'"
The drum beneath Kai thumped once—
a low, tremoring pulse.
Kai listened.
He closed his eyes.
And tapped his heel twice.
The drum responded.
Two platforms materialized in front of him.
Kai opened his eyes and grinned.
"Okay. That's the first pattern."
He stepped onto the next drum.
THUMMMMMMP.
A shockwave blasted outward.
Kai bent his knees—just slightly—letting the wave roll beneath him harmlessly.
He tapped three times in response.
Two shockwaves collided and canceled.
Julian nearly fainted.
"HE COUNTERED THE FLOOR WITH RHYTHM?! AH—AH—AHHHHH!"
Jimmy chuckled.
"He's been training for this since he was five. Learned rhythm from festival dancers, dodging from traveling brawlers, agility from climbing rooftops. He never learned magic. But his body? Music."
A group of fighters were already mid-chaos nearby—
one stuck bouncing uncontrollably,
another flung upward only to crash into a rotating drum,
a third screaming because every drum she stepped on launched her sideways.
Kai watched them with a sympathetic smile.
"Wrong tempo," he murmured.
He hopped onto a drum, landing on the beat the platform wanted—
not the beat anyone else would choose.
A chain reaction rippled outward.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—
Drums stabilized.
Vibrations aligned.
The three struggling fighters suddenly found firm footing beneath them.
One shouted, "WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!"
Kai laughed.
"I apologized for stepping off-beat."
Julian hugged the nearest floating microphone.
"I LOVE THIS MAN'S ENERGY."
The tower didn't.
New drums appeared—
ones that changed pitch mid-step.
Others rotated in chaotic loops.
Still others tried to deceive fighters with false rhythms or misleading echoes.
Kai rolled his shoulders.
"Alright. Tower wants to play."
He tapped his foot lightly—
once.
Twice.
Three times.
He matched each new drum's vibration with his body's movement:
When a drum skipped a beat, he skipped a breath.
When a platform vibrated in reverse, he pivoted.
When a false echo mimicked a trick beat, Kai hummed until it harmonized with the real one.
Jimmy leaned forward.
"He's adjusting micro-muscle tension to read the drum surfaces. That level of sensitivity is… absurd."
Julian nodded with stars in his eyes.
"He FEELS the tower.
Not with magic.
Not with chi.
With SKILL."
A tower-spawn guardian appeared—a monstrous drummer construct made of floating cymbals, hammer-arms, and vibrating sonic cores.
It immediately hammered a triple-beat into the drums, sending waves that blasted fighters in all directions.
Kai heard the opening notes.
"Three-beat signature… but chaos in the sync. No anchor."
The guardian swung.
Kai stepped onto the next drum just as the guardian's rhythm collapsed into static.
He tapped twice.
A stable beat formed.
He tapped again.
The guardian's arms glitched—
unable to find the rhythm it wanted to synchronize.
Kai hopped backward, sliding across a spinning drum as if dancing.
The guardian roared and hammered again.
Kai whistled a four-count.
BOOM.
The guardian's rhythm faltered.
He tapped the drum with his heel.
CRACK.
The guardian's vibration core destabilized.
One more gentle tap—
—and the guardian imploded into harmless sonic dust.
Julian screamed:
"HE BEAT A BOSS MONSTER WITH MUSIC THEORY AND FOOTWORK!"
Jimmy laughed.
"Honestly? Impressive."
Kai's real challenge wasn't the guardian.
It was the Metronome Section—
three giant drums arranged in a triangular pattern.
Each required a different tempo:
Left drum: fast
Center drum: steady
Right drum: irregular
Most fighters panicked.
Or fell.
Or mis-timed their heartbeat.
Kai steadied his breathing.
"The trick is… each beat wants to be the lead."
He stepped onto the left drum.
TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP.
Jumped to the center.
THUM.
THUM.
THUM.
He drifted to the right.
Tap… tap-taptap… tap…
Julian whispered, utterly mesmerized:
"He's dancing across death."
Jimmy commented, "Not dancing. Regulating. He's controlling the output patterns."
Indeed—when Kai completed the three-beat circuit, the entire floor shifted into a harmonious sequence.
Dozens of fighters suddenly found themselves on synchronized platforms instead of chaotic ones.
One fighter yelled:
"HEY—THANKS! WHOEVER DID THAT!"
Kai smiled, rubbing his neck bashfully.
"Just aligning the meter…"
But the tower responded with fury.
Drums began firing simultaneous shockwaves.
Platforms rotated violently.
Buzzing feedback filled the air.
Kai inhaled sharply.
His metronome necklace began to tick—
slow
steady
resolute
Kai whispered:
"Alright. Let's set the tower's heart rate."
He stomped.
A single, deep BOOM echoed.
The drums vibrated.
He stomped again.
BOOM.
The tower's rhythm wavered.
He stomped a third time.
BOOM.
And suddenly—
The entire floor fell into beat with him.
Drum patterns calmed.
Feedback smoothed.
Platforms aligned.
The floor wasn't fighting him anymore.
It was listening.
Julian was having an emotional breakdown.
"I—HE—THE TOWER—THE—THE—BEAT—
HE MADE A WHOLE FLOOR FOLLOW HIS TEMPO!!"
Jimmy exhaled.
"That's not magic. That's perfect physical rhythm. Unmatched."
Kai shook out his arms.
"Okay. Exit time."
He walked across the calm drums.
Each step aligned with their pulses.
Each pulse aligned with the room.
Each room aligned with the tower.
He reached the gate.
Paused.
Tapped the drum one last time—
a thank-you, oddly enough—
and ascended to Floor 58.
Julian wiped tears.
"KAI SARIN! THE TEMPO FIGHTER!
THE RHYTHM THAT REFUSED TO BREAK!
A MAN WHO TURNED A KILL FLOOR INTO A SONG!"
Jimmy nodded.
"And he'll make the Top 500 easily."
Kai disappeared into the shimmering light—
body steady,
mind calm,
heart beating to a tempo only he fully understood.