The place gives me the creeps.

  I’m plopped cross-legged in a blindingly bright, empty room, scratching my head like I’ve just failed the world’s easiest pop quiz. My eyes dart around like a confused chicken that’s wandered off the farm and straight into a sci-fi set.

  Moments ago, I was a full-blown hero. Shoved a lady and her kid out of the way like I was auditioning for Fast & Furious: Neighborhood Edition.

  … Yeah, that happened.

  One second I’m flying through the air like a budget Iron Man, the next I’m in this glowing box of nope with no clue how I got here.

  So yeah. What the actual hell?

  The room stretches in every direction like someone hit copy-paste on “white” a hundred times. It isn’t just blank; it’s aggressively blank. Like the world’s biggest, most uncomfortable Apple Store.

  I can feel the emptiness punch me in the face.

  The floor’s slick and glossy, cool under me like it just got waxed. It reflects this weird light that’s coming from… I dunno, nowhere?

  It’s not like there’re overhead lights or lamps or anything. It’s just… there. Kind of ambient. Suspiciously everywhere. Like the kind of lighting you’d expect if some god was about to drop in and make a dramatic entrance.

  No windows. No doors. No exits. Just this endless wash of white that makes me squint like I’ve walked into the afterlife’s waiting room. Part of me expects a cartoon cat with a clipboard to pop up and say, Congratulations, you died like an idiot. Next!

  I stand up, stretch a little, then glance around for anything. A crack. A shadow. Literally anything that doesn’t scream “IKEA purgatory.” But nope. Nothing. Just the sound of my own breathing echoing like I’m in a giant fishbowl of silence.

  And then, because my life ostensibly runs on plot twists, a voice snaps through the air like it’s calling the shots.

  “Welcome, Akira Sakamoto.”

  My heart goes full bungee jump. I freeze. Every muscle stiffens, like I’ve just been caught watching something I wasn’t supposed to. My brain lags, trying to catch up with the one terrifying detail in that sentence.

  It knows my damn name.

  I’m spinning around like a malfunctioning ballerina. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” I shout, voice cracking in a very uncool way.

  No figure appears. No robot. No weird alien with a clipboard.

  Just that voice again. Cold. Mechanical. About as welcoming as a vending machine that eats your coins.

  “I am what you call the System.”

  The System? Seriously? My brows furrowed. That rings out like the name of a band that exclusively plays trap remixes of magical girl themes.

  “No need to be alarmed, Akira Sakamoto. We have teleported you here, along with others, to play a game.”

  Okay, now I’m alarmed.

  My brain’s already fried from the car crash and that whole trippy flower thing, so it’s seriously lagging just trying to process what I just heard. I blink a few times. Look around again like something’s magically gonna change. Yeah… no, it doesn’t.

  “A game?” I echo. “You’re joking, right? This some kind of reality show prank? Is Ashton Kutcher still doing those?”

  Silence.

  Then the voice kicks in again, calm like it didn’t just yank me outta my life and drop me into sci-fi limbo.

  “Yes. A game called ‘The Fortress of the Fallen.’ It is the conquest of a hundred floors in the realm of Hyakujuu no Ansokusho.”

  Okay. I’m supposed to what now?

  That’s when my internal monologue does a full spit take.

  I’m not prepared.

  A hundred floors? Realm? This sounds like a cursed anime arc got drunk and hooked up with an RPG no one can pronounce.

  I stand there, mouth half open, brain full of static.

  ’Cause apparently, saving a woman and a kid from getting flattened wasn’t enough. Now I’m stuck in some bizarre tower-climbing game with a creepy voice that comes off like someone gave a nightmare a microphone.

  And all I can mutter under my breath is…

  “Man, I should’ve just stayed home and played Mario Kart. This is way more stressful.”

  Right then, a holographic screen blinks into existence—one I never asked for.

  Blue light shimmers, casting a glow that makes everything around me feel even more surreal. I just stare, my mouth hanging open like a fish who accidentally signed up for a space tour.

  On-screen, vivid landscapes flip by in crisp, cinematic glory. Rolling green forests. Towering mountains that look like boss arenas. Cities screaming medieval cosplay heaven with knights, and creatures with names like “Growth the Mighty” or “Fluffernyx the Doom Hound.”

  The whole thing looks like someone mashed Elden Ring, Sword Art Online, and The Legend of Zelda into one glorious fever dream.

  “This is insane!” I blurt, practically swallowing my own words as I gawk at the display.

  I’ve seen fantasy anime. I’ve lived in gacha hell. But seeing it like this? Up close? Real? My jaw might just dislocate.

  The System’s voice cuts through my awe.

  “You will be tasked with eliminating monsters known as Red Creatures (NPCs), or Akai, alongside other Blue Players like yourself, called Aoi. With assistance from Green Players (NPCs), known as Midori, you must clear all one hundred floors. Success will allow all Aoi Players to return to their world, and top achievers will be awarded substantial rewards. Additionally, you may encounter Yellow Creatures (NPCs), or Kiiroi Ikimono. These beings may exhibit hostile or passive behavior.”

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  Yeah. Okay. Sure. Totally normal exposition dump.

  I raise a finger, about to ask what type of “substantial rewards” we’re talking about. Cash? Fame? Exclusive merch? The System powers through as if I don’t exist.

  “But be warned. If you are eliminated in the game, you will die for real.”

  Record scratch.

  My body stiffens. “What! You’ve got to be kidding me.” My voice cracks, super on-brand for the rising panic. “I’m not playing some death trap masquerading as an isekai amusement park.”

  “Understood,” the System replies without an ounce of sympathy. “Prepare for permanent elimination, Akira Sakamoto. Please confirm.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa—no! I was kidding!” I flail like I’m swatting invisible bees. “Don’t delete me!”

  I throw up my hands, palms out, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. “I surrender to your weird RPG overlord-ness. No more puns. I’m done.”

  “Please refrain from making jokes during the briefing, Player Akira.”

  I squeak, then bow at the screen like it’s my pissed-off sensei, which… honestly, it might be.

  Humiliation? Check.

  Emotional whiplash? Double check.

  Seriously though, who the hell drops death threats mid-presentation like it’s just another bullet point on a PowerPoint slide?

  That’s just messed up.

  “Do not fear, Player Akira,” the System says, switching gears to a voice that almost sounds like it’s trying to calm a toddler mid-tantrum, almost. “To ensure fairness between players who entered the game earlier and those who joined later, we will provide you with sufficient training.”

  Fairness? Training? I don’t know if that’s comforting or just a more polite way of saying, you’re gonna die a bit slower.

  Still, I straighten up a bit, trying to look like I’m not shaking on the inside.

  “What do you mean by that?” I ask, sounding way more chill than I feel.

  “You will undergo a Tutorial phase in an environment that resembles Hyakujuu no Ansokusho,” it says, now in full-on NPC mode. “You will receive quests and objectives. However, you won’t encounter other Aoi players or Human Midori. You will interact with Midoris from other races instead. You may ask them for help if your prestige with their race is high enough.”

  So… solo grinding in a fake fantasy world with optional NPC friendships. Cool, cool, cool.

  “During the Tutorial phase,” the System continues, “you’ll be able to level up your strength, improve your warrior class, gain new skills, and earn rewards.”

  Okay, now we’re speaking my language.

  XP? Class upgrades? Loot? I’m about ten seconds away from asking if I get a starter pack or some gacha pulls.

  I rub my chin, pretending to be thoughtful, though I’m mostly thinking about whether I can cheese the system with side quests and charisma.

  “And the time part?” I ask.

  “Time is irrelevant in the Tutorial phase and also in the Live game,” the System replies. “You may train and stay as long as you like, even if it takes hundreds of years. You will never grow old.”

  I let out a laugh before I can stop myself. “Hundreds of years? What kind of person sticks around that long? What am I, a vampire with a Wi-Fi addiction, or something?”

  The System doesn’t bite. “If you are eliminated during the Tutorial phase,” it says, “you will be teleported back to the staging area, where all the Aoi players in your batch will gather before starting the Live game. The level you achieve, along with your stats, skills, and rewards, will carry forward.”

  Okay, that part actually makes sense. No permadeath in the tutorial? That’s the first semi-sane thing this whole setup’s got going for it.

  “Now, let us begin with the attribute and class selection.”

  The screen flickers again, icons and meters popping up like it’s character creation time in a MMORPG. Strength, Agility, Intelligence… the usual suspects.

  I square my shoulders. This is it. My “press start” moment. Whatever’s waiting in this weird, messed-up world, I’ve got to own it.

  “Alright then,” I mutter, a smirk creeping onto my lips. “Let’s make Akira Sakamoto the most overpowered Blue Player this game’s ever seen.”

  Because if I’m stuck in a deadly fantasy game, you better believe I’m going to main character the hell out of it.

  The screen shifts again, and this time, it drops a wall of info like it’s about to quiz me afterward.

  _______________________________________

  DARK — ANKOKU NO MONSUTā (MONSTER OF DARKNESS)

  LIGHT — HIKARI NO MONSUTā (MONSTER OF LIGHT)

  BOTH ATTRIBUTES ARE DENOTED AS AKAI CREATURES

  _______________________________________

  Alright, cool. We’re in Pokémon territory now.

  Light versus Dark. Basic enough… or so I thought.

  A list unfurls beneath it, and let me tell you, this game has range.

  _______________________________________

  1st–10th floor: Goblins — all Dark.

  11th–20th: Lizardmen — still Dark.

  21st–30th: Orcs — triple Dark.

  31st–40th: Undead — ultra Dark.

  41st–50th: Dark Elves — mostly Dark.

  51st–60th: Vampires — you guessed it, Dark Bloodsuckers.

  61st–70th: Giants — split evenly.

  71st–80th: Dragons — even again.

  81st–90th: Angels — mostly Light, but some got problems deciding whose side they’re on.

  91st–100th: Demons — surprise. All Dark and evil.

  _______________________________________

  So basically, 80% of this game is a goth monster convention, and Light types don’t really show up until the Brobdingnagian afterparty.

  The System doesn’t give me time to overthink it.

  “For the Light attribute,” it drones, “your power level will be double that of the Ankoku, or Dark monsters. On the flip side, if you choose the Dark attribute, your power level will be double that of the Hikari, or Light monsters. If you and your opponent share the same attribute, your power will be equal.”

  “Okay,” I mutter, nodding like I totally understand what’s going on. It sounds like a classic Light vs. Dark setup. Nothing too complicated.

  “You cannot change your attribute during the Tutorial phase or the Live game,” it continues. “However, there will be one opportunity to change it in the staging area.”

  Alright. Big decision time.

  I tap my chin, staring at the screen. On one hand, Dark types are obviously the edgy, mysterious villains here, and I’ve always had a soft spot for the cool bad guys. On the other hand, if most of the monsters are Dark, then going Light basically means I’ll be cruising with a cheat code for the first 60 floors.

  “Please select your attribute, Player Akira,” the System urges, its voice getting all tight like a teacher who’s already asked five times and is about to write me up.

  I shrug and tap the Light attribute button.

  A soft chime rings out. The screen pulses for a second, then locks in my choice.

  My posture straightens up on instinct, like I’ve been drafted into something infernal.

  Or maybe like I’ve just ordered the combo meal instead of the sad solo burger.

  “Now, we will proceed with the class and subclass selection,” the System announces. The screen morphs again, revealing a whole new setup. “Please read the guides for the Player Status before making your selection.”

  Great. More reading. I lean in closer.

  ________________________________________

  PLAYER:

  LEVEL:

  CLASS:

  SUBCLASS:

  TITLE:

  MAIN STATS

  HEALTH POINTS (HP):

  MANA POINTS (MP):

  STRENGTH (STR):

  DEXTERITY (DEX):

  WISDOM (WIS):

  CHARISMA (CHA):

  INTELLIGENCE (INT):

  LUCK (LCK):

  FREE STAT POINTS:

  OVERALL PRESTIGE (P): +120% (MAX +1000%)

  ________________________________________

  “Once you allocate your free stat points, the changes will be permanent,” the System warns, sounding like a creepy guidance counselor. “If your overall prestige drops below -70%, you will be registered as an Akai player—a criminal. Only by returning to a positive value will you revert to an Aoi player.”

  “Criminal?” I blink. “Is this some kind of RPG or GTA: Fantasy Edition, just with more medieval swords and fewer car chases?”

  Seriously, one bad side quest and I’d go from hero to hunted? I’m already mentally drafting an apology speech to every NPC I might accidentally offend.

  The System ignores my sarcasm and keeps going.

  “Only after you select your main and subclass will we assign your default stat points based on your innate talent and what you excelled at back in your world,” it continues, like it’s been stalking me since birth.

  “For example, if you excelled in sports, you would receive high Strength and Dexterity. In that case, the BLADEMASTER or TANKER class would be prudent. Conversely, if you possessed medical knowledge and selected the SUPPORT class, your Intelligence stat would be significantly elevated. So, choose your class wisely.”

  Huh. So this wasn’t just picking “Wizard” or “Warrior” and calling it a day. They were actually pulling data straight from my real life.

  I let out a slow breath and squint at the screen. This ain’t just about stats anymore. It’s about identity. Who the hell am I in this world? What kind of player am I supposed to be?

  A sword-wielding ace who blitzes through enemies with speed and flair? A tank who can shrug off attacks like a fantasy fridge? A clever support who can heal, buff, and sass people with equal precision?

  I rock back on my heels, staring at the glowing options.

  This is my fork in the road. My protagonist moment. No pressure.

  “Alright, System,” I mutter under my breath. “Hit me with the class list.”