Inside a massive white room, billions of people stood, sat, argued, cried, prayed, and cursed.
Children wailed in confusion. Old men trembled. Mothers clutched their sons and daughters as if the world might shatter again at any second. Groups huddled together, whispering in panic. Others simply stared into nothingness, too shocked to even speak.
The room was endless.
It stretched beyond sight in every direction — walls, ceiling, and floor all the same blinding white. It was large enough to contain every human being who had ever drawn breath on Earth, and still there was space left over. No doors. No windows. No visible source of light. Yet everything was illuminated evenly, shadowless, unnatural.
People from India, the USA, Japan, China, Russia, Brazil — every nation — were here.
And yet, impossibly, they could understand each other perfectly.
Languages no longer existed as barriers. An American shouted in English, a Japanese woman responded in her native tongue, and somehow both understood one another flawlessly. It was as if meaning itself had replaced speech.
In one far corner of the room, isolated from the waves of humanity, a boy who looked seventeen sat on the white floor.
His back pressed against the smooth wall. Knees drawn to his chest. Arms wrapped tightly around his shins.
Alone.
His black hair fell messily over his eyes. Those eyes were lifeless — dull, hollow, as though something inside him had already died.
He had no family.
No friends.
No one searching for him in the crowd.
He was from China.
His name was Yang Kai.
He stared forward without really seeing anything, thoughts dragging him back to what had happened two days ago.
---
Two days earlier, Earth had been normal.
Half the world was asleep in the quiet darkness of night. The other half rushed through the usual chaos of morning — people heading to work, students attending school, traffic jams, honking horns, coffee shops opening their doors.
Life.
Ordinary, boring, predictable life.
Then, at 1:32 PM in China, every television screen, phone, computer, and digital billboard froze.
The broadcast switched to CCTV-13.
The government official on screen looked pale. His hands were shaking.
He announced that an asteroid — as large as the Sun — had appeared without warning and would collide with Earth in five minutes.
Five fucking minutes.
No explanation. No scientific prediction. No defense plan.
Just five minutes.
Across the globe, governments issued the same message. Emergency systems activated. Sirens wailed. Social media exploded into hysteria. Some people laughed in disbelief. Some prayed. Some screamed. Some looted. Some hugged their families and waited.
Five minutes passed.
And then it happened.
The sky split open.
A burning mass eclipsed everything. It swallowed the horizon. It swallowed the light. It swallowed hope.
On January 1st, 2026, Earth — and the entire solar system — was annihilated.
---
And yet…
No one died.
Yang Kai remembered the moment of impact. He had been alone in his tiny apartment room. He had closed his eyes, expecting pain.
Instead, there had been nothing.
No explosion. No fire. No suffocation.
Just a flash of white.
And when he opened his eyes, he was here.
Back in the endless white room, Yang Kai let out a slow breath.
He turned his head slightly to the right. Far in the distance, countless groups of people were sitting together — talking, crying, arguing about what the hell was happening.
But for everyone's surprise — and perhaps horror — not a single human being had died when the asteroid struck.
Every single person on Earth had been transported here.
All eight billion of them.
Alive.
Waiting.
For what?
Yang Kai slowly closed his eyes.
The white ceiling above him was endless, but in his mind, he could still see that first moment clearly.
The day they arrived here.
---
When the asteroid struck Earth, everyone had believed they were dead.
They remembered the sky burning. The impossible mass swallowing continents. The air turning to fire.
Then—
White.
When their vision returned, there was no destruction. No rubble. No bodies.
Just this vast, silent, white room.
For nearly a full minute, no one understood what had happened.
People looked around in confusion. Mothers found their children standing beside them. Husbands grabbed their wives. Friends stared at each other in disbelief.
Some fell to their knees and wept in relief.
Others laughed hysterically.
Then a man's voice cut through the noise.
"What the hell… where are we?!"
The shout echoed unnaturally across the massive chamber.
That was when realization struck everyone at once.
They were supposed to be dead.
The asteroid had destroyed the planet.
There was no fucking way they survived that.
Panic spread like wildfire.
Some speculated it was heaven.
Others claimed aliens had saved them.
Some believed it was a simulation.
Some shouted that this was punishment from God.
Arguments broke out almost immediately. Religious groups began praying. Scientists tried to rationalize the impossible. Conspiracy theorists screamed about hidden experiments.
And then—
The air above them distorted.
High above the billions of humans, a figure appeared.
He was short in stature, almost childlike in height, but his presence crushed the noise instantly.
Long black hair flowed down his back. His face was handsome in a sharp, unnatural way — smooth skin, narrow eyes, lips curved into a faint smile.
But there was something devilish about him.
Something predatory.
The moment he appeared, something even stranger happened.
People could no longer see each other clearly. It was as if the crowd had faded into the background. Each person saw only him suspended in the white void above.
Silence fell.
He looked down at humanity like one would observe insects.
Then he spoke.
"Hello, hello, regulars. Can you understand me?"
His voice was soft. Pleasant. Almost friendly.
But beneath it was something cold.
Everyone who was physically capable of answering felt a crushing pressure in their chests.
An instinct.
If they didn't respond, they would die.
"Yes!"
"Yes, we understand!"
"We can hear you!"
Voices rose from every direction.
However, the elderly who could not speak, the deaf who could not hear, the disabled who could not respond — they remained silent.
The being didn't even glance at them.
It did not matter to him.
He smiled faintly.
"Good."
He clasped his hands behind his back as if addressing students in a classroom.
"I know you have so many questions. Where are you? Why are you alive? Who saved you? Who destroyed your world?"
His smile widened.
"But I will not tell you that. I don't have that much time."
The reaction was immediate.
"What?!"
"Are you fucking kidding me?!"
"Tell us what's going on!"
People tried to shout, to curse, to demand answers.
But their bodies suddenly froze.
Completely.
They could not move their arms. Could not step forward. Could not even lift a finger.
Only their eyes moved.
The being chuckled softly.
"Oh right, I forgot to introduce myself."
He gave a slight bow in midair.
"My name is Jin. A lowly servant of this Tower of Immortality."
The term meant nothing to anyone.
Tower?
Immortality?
Confusion spread across billions of faces.
Jin did not care.
He extended one hand lazily, as though presenting a product.
"This place you are in is the Tower of Immortality."
His voice echoed across the endless white space.
"You have been chosen to climb."
A faint, eerie glow began to gather around him.
"You will fight. You will compete. You will kill if necessary. Climb the floors of the tower. Grow stronger. Become powerful."
His eyes gleamed.
"And when you reach the top… you will receive your answers."
A pause.
Then his smile turned cruel.
"And those who are not worthy…"
The air grew heavy.
"…shall die."
Some people began crying.
Some tried to scream.
Some silently prayed.
Jin slowly raised his hand above his head.
With a soft humming sound, a massive blue screen materialized in the sky.
Transparent.
Cold.
Unavoidable.
A countdown timer appeared.
03:00:00:00
Three days.
The numbers ticked down with mechanical precision.
"I will return after three days," Jin said casually. "Rest well. Pray if you want. Say goodbye if you need to."
His gaze swept across humanity like a butcher inspecting livestock.
"When I return, I will explain your first test."
And then—
He vanished.
The pressure disappeared.
Bodies regained movement.
Sound exploded across the chamber.
Screaming.
Crying.
Anger.
Despair.
Above them all, the blue countdown continued ticking.
Three days until the Tower began.
---
Yang Kai blinked slowly and returned to the present.
Above the endless white ceiling, the blue countdown continued to tick.
01:01:02:03
01:01:02:02
The numbers glowed coldly, indifferent to the billions of lives beneath them.
Yang Kai's dead eyes reflected the light as he stared upward.
In this room, no one felt hungry. No one felt sleepy. Days passed, yet bodies did not weaken. No one needed to eat. No one needed to rest.
It was as if they were preserved specimens.
He thought quietly, almost bitterly.
In this place, even dying seemed unnecessary.
And yet… no one had actually tested it.
No one had tried to see if they could die here.
A twisted thought formed in his mind.
I'm the one who wanted to die anyway.
Suddenly, a scream tore through the air.
"Ahhh! Help! He's trying to rape me!"
The words cut across the white chamber like a blade.
Yang Kai turned his head toward the direction of the voice.
He couldn't see clearly from where he sat, but he saw movement — a chaotic cluster of bodies. People rushing. Shouting. A man being dragged and beaten by several others. The woman sobbing behind them.
Humanity.
Even at the edge of existence, even after the fucking world had ended, nothing had changed.
Violence. Fear. Filth.
Something snapped inside him.
Before he realized it, Yang Kai pushed himself to his feet. His movements were sudden, sharp.
He did not walk toward the chaos.
Instead, he turned and faced the white wall behind him.
His fists trembled.
His breath grew uneven.
A roar exploded from his throat — raw, animalistic, filled with every ounce of anger, despair, and hatred he had buried.
Without hesitation, he slammed his head forward.
Bang.
The impact echoed.
Gasps rippled through nearby groups.
But he didn't stop.
He drew back and smashed his forehead into the wall again.
And again.
And again.
Blood splattered across the pristine white surface.
Red against white.
A brutal contrast.
People turned in horror.
By the time anyone reacted, Yang Kai's body had already collapsed to the floor.
Blood pooled beneath his head. It spread across the smooth white ground, staining it like spilled paint.
Some screamed.
Some covered their mouths in shock.
Mothers pulled their children close and covered their eyes so they would not see the gruesome scene.
A few brave individuals ran toward him.
"Check his pulse!"
"Is he breathing?!"
They knelt beside him, hands shaking as they touched his neck, his wrist.
Silence fell over that small circle of people.
One man slowly withdrew his hand.
There was no heartbeat.
No breath.
No response.
Yang Kai was dead.
In a room where no one felt hunger.
In a room where no one felt sleep.
In a room where no one had dared to test death.
He had proven it.
Death still existed.
And the blue countdown above continued ticking, cold and merciless.