The tower appeared ten years later, nobody knowing how, but a holographic screen that mirrors one of a system interface sparked to life in front of everyone. A message from the gods playing:
_________
[Message]
Greetings, humans.
Your world has been selected as our newest playground. The towers you see before you have been strategically placed across the globe—interlinked, united, and ready. Since wealth seems to rule your lives, we've crafted this particular tower in honor of your obsession. Conquer it... and you shall become the richest among you.
_________
Though it may be seen as a way for the poor to gain wealth, which it was, it was soon evident that if you weren't rich before, the fight for money would become more troublesome, forcing your only way to gain money to be through that very tower.
Luck witnessed it firsthand.
The fall of his middle-class family to dirt-poor. The scales of rich, middle class and poorwere no more; there were only two.
You were either filthy rich or dead broke. Nothing in between, and the only way to gain as much money as you needed to get out of the slums was to climb the tower.
"Luck!" One of the cooks shouts for him as he enters the kitchen again, his face soaked with sweat from the extensive work.
Moving to the cook, he hands him another plate of food, and so does another as he passes and pushes out the door.
Maneuvering around the tables, their eyes glued to the large screen displaying one of the top international streamers fighting off one of the higher-class monsters.
'Dawn.' Luck rolls his eyes as the screen resumes his work.
Same dramatic music, same over-glorified scream edit. Same face that probably hadn't blinked in hours.
He ducks a tray flying past him from a stressed server. "Watch it!" she snaps.
"Tell that to gravity," he mutters, sliding the last plate onto the table. His apron catches on a chair. Again.
If irony had a spokesperson, it'd be him. Luck Ainsley—named after something he clearly pissed off in a past life.
The moment he clocks out, he can feel it.
The vibe.
Not the good kind.
The alley near the back exit smells like fried oil, regret, and definitely someone's broken vape. He doesn't even reach the sidewalk before hearing footsteps behind him.
"Yo," a voice calls.
He knows that yo. The kind that comes before someone asks for your phone, wallet, and dignity.
He turns his head, spots three guys. One's cracking his knuckles like he's prepping for a boss fight. Another's adjusting his mask—stylish, but definitely not COVID-related.
Great.
Luck sighs, shifting his bag on his shoulder. "Hey, can we reschedule this mugging? I'm emotionally unavailable right now."
The tallest one grins. "You got jokes?"
Before he can answer, a sudden chime rings through his head, sharp and high like someone slapped a xylophone inside his brain.
A golden interface blinks open mid-air, glowing with smug divine energy.
[System Notification: You have been CHOSEN.]
[A God is… intrigued by you.]
"What the hell?"
His would-be muggers freeze, looking around as if they could see it too.
[Welcome to the Primordial Tower Selection Program.]
[Would you like to accept your invitation? Y/N]
Luck stares at the glowing options. One side says Y. The other says N (and get jumped instead).
He slaps Y so fast he nearly dislocates a finger.
The world melts. His stomach flips.
<<
The next thing he knows, he's standing in an all-white void. No alley. No angry debt collectors. No rent due.
Just the sterile, unsettling ambiance of video game limbo.
A new window pops up.
[Please create your Avatar.]
[Warning: Your current Luck Stat is... abysmal.]
Luck groans. "Well, that's on-brand."
Then, the class system pops up. As he swipes through the class options, the system glitches—twice.
<<
[Legendary weapon awakener!]
||This class allows the user to awaken any sealed weapon.||
"This god has taste."
Next is the outfit screen. He scrolls through armor and robes until—click.
He's wearing a neon green frog onesie.
With googly eyes on the hood. And little webbed slippers.
[selected by the veiled god]
[Due to your low Luck stat, the veiled god took the task of cosmetic appliance upon themselves, which is "Ribbit Champion" Set (Limited Edition).]
"…You're joking."
[Cannot refuse gifts from a god. Have fun! :D]
<<
<<
The white void shatters. He's dropped onto damp earth. Trees. Crickets. Darkness.
A cold wind brushes his cheeks. Something howls.
[Task: Survive the night!]
[Human Viewers: 0]
[Celestial Viewers: 1]
["???" is watching with interest… and popcorn.]
Luck tightens the frog hood around his head. "Welp… showbiz."
He waddles forward, the webbed feet squeaking slightly as he walks.