Upon hearing that, his smile widened slightly into what looked like a half-grin. Honestly, I wasn't too sure if it was demeaning or not... oh who am I kidding it was demeaning as hell. It gave the vibe of being both friendly and annoyed at the same time.
'Maybe I'm just imagining things.'
The attendant quickly returned to a neutral expression, his eyes twitching slightly, confirming my theory.
"Ah," he said. "A new challenger?"
Ignoring his previous stunt, I nodded.
"Yep. That's me. The newest challenger on the block."
He gestured toward the side door, his hand sweeping outward in a performative manner. "Before you enter, would you like a brief overview of the Tower facilities?" I glanced around and only then properly noticed how much of this place was… commercial.
There were stalls and counters tucked along the walls, signs advertising exchange rates, refinement services, equipment vendors, merch booths with literal Tower-branded hoodies, and a café that looked like it served a "Floor One Latte" unironically.
My eyes widened for a second before dimming as I remembered my living circumstances. A life of poverty, toast with butter and instant ramen noodles. It really sucked to be poor. Maybe I should've wished for an alchemy system while the universe was busy rearranging my DNA.
At least then I could've transmuted my bank account. I had a name for it already, 'Turn Trash Into Rent Money'.Catchy I know right. In fact I wouldn't be all too surprised if someone else in this universe was living out this life.
I mean with all the awakened in the world it wasn't impossible. Unfortunately, for me though this was not the case. Reeling my self back to reality, my eyes drifted back to the rows of stalls, the glowing signs, the painfully well-stocked equipment displays.
"You have a shopping district," I said slowly.
"We do," he replied. "Within the plaza, you may purchase supplies, exchange dungeon materials, sell instance yields, and acquire authorised equipment. The Tower supports its challengers."
That sentence sounded nice. Suspiciously nice.
"And over there," he continued, pointing, "are the service counters. If you require guidance, tutorial assistance, or wish to check records, you may consult them. The Tower's introductory floors are designed to familiarise challengers with basic mechanics."
I nodded slowly, pretending I wasn't absorbing this like a sponge.
"I'm mainly here to take on the tutorial floors," I said.
"Of course," he replied. "Allow me to clarify the rules."
His tone became slightly more formal, all traces of emotion disappearing.
"The first ten floors of the Tower are classified as the Tutorial Sequence," he explained. "For most challengers, these floors are generated as individual instances, tailored to the challenger's level and development."
"Tailored," I repeated.
"Yes," he said. "The Tower assesses capability and generates a suitable scenario."
That sounded ominously personal.
He continued, "During the Tutorial Sequence, death is not permanent."
I blinked. "So I can die and… come back?"
He nodded. "Correct. Upon death, challengers will respawn at the beginning of the tutorial floor they are currently attempting. Progress within a floor may reset, depending on the instance type, but your overall Tutorial Sequence progress is recorded."
"That's quite comforting. Nice to know I won't turn into tomato paste for life."
"It is intended to be, However, once a challenger completes the Tutorial Sequence and enters the main Tower floors, death becomes permanent."
My skin prickled.
"Permanent permanent," I murmured.
"Yes," he confirmed. "Permanent."
I swallowed. Life was a fickle thing, and the idea of permanent death didn't sit well with me. There was still so much food to taste, and although I loved sleep, permanent sleep wasn't my sort of thing. The attendant let out a slight sigh, as if he'd seen that reaction a thousand times.
"One more important note," he said.
"The Tower's tutorial instances are meant to give a taste of what it's like to be in the Tower. The difficulty range is determined accordingly. Do not lull yourself into a false sense of security if you pass it. Once you enter the real Tower, things become far more dangerous. A great many hunters have died by failing to keep this in mind."
This was the first time I had seen him look genuinely serious. Had he entered the Tower at one point? Or maybe he had simply heard his fair share of stories. He hesitated, then donned his 'polite' smile again.
"Well then, good luck. As they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Well, unless you are permanently dead. Hahaha."
'Yeah. Ha… ha.'
That was not reassuring. Still, my brain immediately latched onto the upside.
"One more question."
The attendant's expression shifted into mild annoyance. It was subtle, but I could tell.
'Dude, is this not your job?'
Oh well. His mood didn't matter.
"So can I gain experience the same way in the Tower as in a dungeon?"
"The Tower records its own challengers," he said diplomatically. "However, you are correct that the Tower grants experience for monster kills, much like elsewhere, although it operates under the law of diminishing returns."
Translation: You can try min-maxing, but it won't help much.
'Fair enough.'
He gestured toward the glowing archway to the side, his hands moving as if he were trying to usher me away from his stand as quickly as possible. An elegant portal structure stood there, glowing with pale blue light.
"When you are ready," he said, "you may enter through there, and the Tower will begin your Tutorial Sequence."
My heart thumped. I was finally doing it. Nodding once, I stepped toward it, forcing my legs to move. At the threshold, I paused and glanced back.
"So just to confirm," I said, "I can die in there and I won't actually die."
"Correct," he said. "During the tutorial."
"And after the tutorial, if I die then I die for real."
"Yes."
"…Okay," I muttered. "Love that."
Then I stepped into the portal. Everything went black. A heavy darkness swallowed the world. There was no sound, no feeling, no sense of direction, as if reality had been paused. Then the world reappeared in a glitch.
A meadow flickered into existence. Flowers. Bright sky. Soft wind.
The grass rendered in patches like a quilt being stitched from below, each blade snapping into sharp focus before softening into something almost real.
Then it snapped away. I saw a warfield. Mud covered the ground in every direction. Smoke and explosions tore through the land as flames engulfed blackened figures. Shouts echoed in the distance. The grim smell of blood permeating the air.
Meadow. Warfield. Meadow again.
The environment kept shifting, and my stomach lurched.
"Okay," I muttered, "I know you're a little indecisive, Tower, but maybe you could just pick one."
The glitching intensified, like the Tower was struggling to decide what flavour of ice cream it wanted to serve me. This lasted about a minute until the warfield won. The meadow shattered into pixels and vanished. The world locked into place with a heavy click that I felt in my bones. A panel slammed into my vision.
[TOWER SYSTEM NOTICE]
True Tutorial Started.
Death within Tutorial: Non-permanent. Respawn enabled.
Combat Parameters: Adjusted to meet Tutorial standards.
Amplification: Temporary. Will revert upon exit.
Tutorial Skills: Temporary. Will not carry over after tutorial completion.
[System Feedback… Connecting With Tower System… Connection Complete]
I stared at the words.
"…Excuse me," I muttered. "Amplification?"
I wasn't sure if I was insulted or grateful. Probably both. Simultaneously. In the specific ratio of sixty percent insulted, forty percent relieved, which felt about right for my life.
The deeper issue was the implication. If the Tower had amplified my strength, what sort of hellhole tutorial was I heading into? I had not heard anything about this from that sneaky attendant.
Not a word or a whisper from that careful, greasy smile of his. Not once in our pleasant conversation had he mentioned the word amplification. Which made me worried on how much more things he had conveniently missed out on.
'When I get back, we are soooo gonna have a word.'
Another line flickered into existence interrupting my thoughts. The text assembled itself letter by letter before snapping into full clarity all at once.
[TOWER NOTICE]
Your current power has been amplified for tutorial compliance. At current strength you would be nothing more than a mosquito fighting giants.
My mouth opened.
Then closed.It could do that? And also what was the comment about the mosquito. It felt totally unnecessary. Like okay call me weak but add more flare to it. Maybe a kitten fighting a giant, hell even an ant sounded better... but a mosquito.
[...]
Before I could even fully process the information and disrespect, the ground beneath me shifted as the world slammed forward.
The next moment—
Bang.
I was in a trench mid-charge, with people screaming in every direction.