=+=
Luna wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her grey sweatsuit, now damp with sweat and tears. Her breath came in shallow bursts, but her mind was clearing. Slowly, she dragged herself back onto the steel bed—shivering, hurting, exhausted. The floor was freezing. Too cold and too hard to lie down anyway !
Her body trembled as she curled into herself on the cot, but her eyes flicked upward.
And then—beep.
A faint glow shimmered in the air beside the far wall, lines of digital flickering numbers in a void
[ 0| 000 | 000 ]
Three blinking counters.
First number: Her player ID.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
She was marked as “0.”
Maybe because she a first players also a creator?
Maybe a non-person. Not even registered in the system , a glitch ?
Second number: Current floor cleared.
Also “000.” She hadn’t even begun to play.
Third number: Number of deaths.
Still “000.”
But that number could grow—infinitely.
She knew what it meant.
She had coded this damn Tower herself.
In this world, player couldn’t truly die.
They’d die and revive back in the Gray zone stripped of everything—gear, clothing, items , repeat everything!
Every Death reset you to zero.
And the Levels floors were Randomizes.
Some were combat arenas.
Some were survival in the wild .
Some were mental torture rooms.
Some gave you hope just to tear it away.
There was no pattern.
No mercy.
And to reach Floor 100… was a dream only fools believed in.
Luna clenched her jaw, her fists weakly balling against her chest.
She had made this.
She was the creator. But now she was just a bug in the code.
And at the bottom of the display.
Time Until Forced Entry: 00:14:58
The timer ticked down. Only Fourteen minutes left .
Luna swallowed. Her body ached, her legs gone, her future bleak.
Then, no matter her condition, no matter her age, no matter her disability—she would be dropped into the first floor of the Moon Tower.
Ready or not.
=+=
