1 Who am I?

Wiz was no one special in the vast labyrinthine world of the Tower. As a young boy with unremarkable features, he blended into the crowd of regulars who toiled tirelessly in the outer tower. Life had been a constant struggle, but for Wiz, it was a world he knew well.

Born to parents who had met their end in the perilous ascent, Wiz had grown up with the Tower as both his home and his nemesis. In the glow of the flickering lamps that illuminated the cramped chambers of his dwelling, he clutched the simple pendant that was his only link to his family's legacy.

The pendant had been passed down through generations, its origins lost to time. It was a plain trinket, devoid of any intrinsic value, but its significance lay in its connection to a lineage that had once been touched by the heights of the Tower.

As the night deepened, Wiz prepared to sleep, his body weary from the day's toil. He lay on his lumpy mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling overhead. He couldn't help but wonder about the regulars who ascended the Tower, their names echoing through the chamber as they embarked on their perilous journey.

"Why not me?" he whispered to the empty room, a question that had haunted him for years. He knew the Tower favored the gifted, the extraordinary, and the powerful, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his existence than met the eye.

As he closed his eyes, surrendering to the embrace of sleep, something extraordinary happened. It began as a faint tremor, a gentle disturbance in the stillness of the night. Wiz's eyes shot open, and he felt an inexplicable warmth radiating from the pendant around his neck.

Images and memories surged into his mind with an intensity that left him gasping for breath. He saw battles waged on celestial plains, divine beings locked in an eternal struggle, and ancient secrets hidden within the very fabric of the mysterious Tower. It was as if he was living a thousand lifetimes in a single moment.

Questions flooded his thoughts as he clung to the edges of his rapidly unraveling reality. "Who is that? What is this power? Whose memories are these?" he stammered in the dim chamber, his voice quivering.

The memories were relentless, a relentless torrent of knowledge and divinity. Wiz's very essence seemed to expand as he absorbed the stolen wisdom of a forgotten god. It was as if the tower… no, a god itself had whispered his name, and in that fleeting moment, he felt like more than just a nameless regular.

Yet, even as he basked in the bewildering rush of divine memories, he couldn't escape the weight of their implications. What had just happened was beyond comprehension, and it left him trembling with a mixture of awe and fear.

As Wiz reclined in his bed, he meticulously reflected upon these memories, yet the sheer volume of recollections inflicted profound anguish with each attempt.

Reluctant to endure such agony, Wiz relinquished his endeavor to review these extraordinary memories. One certainty loomed: these memories defied convention.

He sensed a newfound strength within himself, an indefinable transformation that filled him with exhilaration.

[One Year Later]

Since that enigmatic day when I acquired these memories, still shrouded in mystery, my existence has undergone a remarkable transformation.

Take, for instance, the forest east of my village, where the shinsu density is so formidable that few dare venture. However, my footsteps in that forest evoke no sensation; the last time I ventured there, I felt on the brink of death. Yet, somehow, these memories have catalyzed profound changes, both physically and mentally.

I cannot fathom the mechanics, but if they've bolstered my shinsu resistance to such an extent, could they have similarly enhanced my combat prowess?

It remains mere conjecture until tested in combat.

The day waned, signaling the time for rest. As I prepared to retire, I clutched the pendant bequeathed by my forebears—a generational heirloom, the source of these memories.

If my family possessed such a potent relic, it raises a fundamental query: Who am I?

The demise of my parents likely resulted from their connection to this pendant, not by ordinary means. Hence, I must exercise discretion in revealing its existence.

Just as the pendant found its place around my neck, a luminous white radiance flooded my room, and Headon, his staff's tip barely grazing my brow, declared, "You have been chosen."

In an instant, my surroundings blurred into obscurity, and I materialized in a vast expanse of grass and stone. Before I could process the bewildering turn of events, a disembodied voice emanated from an ethereal box hovering several meters above.

"Greetings, all aspiring Regulars who have been chosen to the climb the Tower! Welcome to the second floor, Evankhell's floor."

"On this level, you shall undergo a test to determine your worthiness to climb further. Your task: reduce the number of Regulars from the current 400 to a mere 200."

"Once this tally reaches 200, the trial concludes. Any combat thereafter will result in disqualification."

"Now, three... two... one... Begin!"

As the mysterious voice's countdown dissipated, cries of pain and the pungent scent of blood pervaded the atmosphere. The grass rustled in proximity, paralyzing my body.

I wanted to engage in combat to assess the potency of these memories, yet inexplicably, I remained paralyzed.

The sound of rustling grass drew nearer, reverberating with my pounding heart.

'Move! Move, damn it!'I implored within, but my plea remained unanswered.

Finally, the grass's crescendo heralded the imminent emergence of a lizard-like creature, wielding a sword with menacing force, its very swing generating a piercing whistle.

'I'm dead.'