Three days after the return of the Imperial Reconnaissance Unit, the Empire remained consumed by a single topic.

The survivors.

Not the Tower.

Not the First Floor.

Not even the mysterious Calamity.

The survivors themselves.

Initially, most citizens had focused on the broad details contained within Commander Reinhardt's report. Entire worlds hidden inside floors. Different time flow. Cities existing within the Tower. Such revelations had naturally captured public attention. Yet as scholars, military analysts, and noble officials began studying the surviving soldiers more closely, a different reality emerged.

The men who returned were not the same men who entered.

That realization unsettled everyone.

Aurelion stood within one of the Imperial Military Hospital's private wings while quietly observing a soldier undergoing examination. The man had been a healthy veteran before entering the Tower. Physically, he remained alive. Mentally, however, something had changed.

The soldier stared at a wall.

Not because he was injured.

Not because he was unconscious.

He simply stared.

For nearly twenty minutes.

Without blinking.

Without moving.

Without speaking.

Several healers exchanged worried glances.

Eventually one of them approached.

"Sir Marcus?"

The soldier slowly turned his head.

His eyes appeared distant.

Lost.

"What day is it?"

The healer smiled gently.

"The twenty-third."

The soldier remained silent.

Then his expression changed.

Confusion.

Fear.

Disbelief.

"The twenty-third?"

His voice cracked.

"Impossible."

The healer remained calm.

"What do you mean?"

The soldier looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

"I spent months there."

The statement hung heavily in the air.

Months.

Not days.

Months.

Aurelion had already heard similar testimonies dozens of times.

Yet hearing them directly remained unsettling.

The soldier lowered his head.

"My daughter..."

His voice trembled.

"She was six when I entered."

The room became silent.

The man laughed weakly.

"Every night I thought about seeing her again."

His smile disappeared.

"But now..."

The soldier stared at his trembling hands.

"...it feels like I left her years ago."

Nobody knew how to respond.

The emotional consequences of time dilation had received surprisingly little attention compared to the Tower itself.

Yet perhaps they deserved greater consideration.

Twelve days.

Four months.

Human minds weren't designed to process such contradictions.

The body returned home.

The mind remained elsewhere.

Aurelion quietly left the room.

The corridor outside felt equally heavy.

Every chamber contained similar scenes.

Some soldiers slept excessively.

Others avoided conversation.

Several refused to discuss certain topics entirely.

The First Floor had left scars beyond physical wounds.

And that alone made the Tower more dangerous than many realized.

As he continued through the hospital, Aurelion eventually reached a secured chamber guarded by Imperial Knights. Unlike ordinary patients, the individual inside possessed information considered strategically valuable.

Commander Reinhardt.

The officer had recovered enough to participate in formal interviews.

Upon entering the room, Aurelion found the commander reviewing documents while several military analysts sat nearby.

The commander immediately stood.

"Your Highness."

Aurelion gestured for him to remain seated.

"You've already earned your rest."

A faint smile appeared on Reinhardt's face.

"Rest feels strange."

The answer carried more meaning than intended.

Aurelion took a seat across from him.

"Let's continue where yesterday ended."

The commander nodded.

Over the previous two days, dozens of interviews had already taken place. Every survivor possessed slightly different experiences. Together, their testimonies created a clearer picture of Floor One.

Unfortunately, that picture only generated more questions.

Aurelion opened a notebook.

"Food."

The commander blinked.

"Food?"

"Yes."

Several analysts immediately began taking notes. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

The commander thought for a moment.

"Normal food."

Aurelion waited.

"The farms worked."

"The crops were real."

"The livestock was real."

The commander frowned slightly.

"Everything was real."

There was that phrase again.

Real.

Not simulated.

Not artificial.

Real.

Aurelion continued.

"What about the economy?"

The commander laughed.

"The economy?"

"Yes."

The commander rubbed his forehead.

"There were taxes."

The analysts paused.

"There were what?"

"Taxes."

The commander looked offended on behalf of everyone involved.

"Apparently, even magical tower worlds can't escape taxation."

For the first time all morning, several people laughed.

The commander continued.

"Merchants traded goods."

"Nobles owned land."

"Businesses existed."

"It was an actual kingdom."

The room gradually fell silent again.

Every answer reinforced the same impossible conclusion.

Floor One wasn't designed as a dungeon.

It was designed as a civilization.

Aurelion moved to another topic.

"The Calamity."

Immediately, the atmosphere changed.

The commander's expression darkened.

Several analysts stopped writing.

The room became noticeably quieter.

"What can you tell me?"

The commander remained silent for several seconds.

Then he exhaled slowly.

"We still don't know what it was."

The answer frustrated everyone.

Yet it remained consistent across every testimony.

Nobody had seen the enemy.

Not directly.

Entire cities were destroyed.

Armies vanished.

Thousands died.

Yet the source remained unclear.

The commander continued.

"It wasn't an army."

"It wasn't a monster."

"It wasn't a person."

His hands clenched slightly.

"It felt more like..."

He hesitated.

"A disaster."

The description matched previous reports.

Aurelion frowned.

"Can disasters think?"

The commander looked uncomfortable.

"That's the problem."

His voice lowered.

"I think it could."

The room became silent.

Aurelion didn't interrupt.

The commander continued.

"Every attack seemed deliberate."

"It targeted population centers."

"It adapted."

"It changed tactics."

His gaze drifted toward the window.

"Whatever it was..."

The commander swallowed.

"...it knew we were fighting back."

The implication lingered heavily.

Intelligence.

Adaptation.

Awareness.

The unknown enemy was becoming increasingly disturbing.

Several hours passed as interviews continued.

By the end of the day, dozens of additional details had emerged.

The First Floor possessed seasons.

Political conflicts.

Religious institutions.

Trade networks.

Military forces.

Everything expected from a genuine civilization.

The sheer scale left even experienced scholars struggling to comprehend the logistics involved.

One floor.

One world.

Ninety-nine more remaining.

The number felt increasingly absurd.

Later that evening, Aurelion found himself reviewing interview transcripts inside his office.

Stacks of documents covered nearly every surface.

Military reports.

Psychological evaluations.

Geographical surveys.

Personal testimonies.

The deeper he examined the information, the stranger everything became.

One particular report captured his attention.

A soldier's personal journal.

Recovered after his return.

The entry had been written shortly before the Calamity attacks began.

"Today I helped repair a farmer's fence."

Aurelion paused.

The next lines continued.

"His daughter asked whether I would stay for the harvest festival."

"I almost said yes."

The Crown Prince slowly closed the journal.

The implications struck harder than expected.

The soldiers hadn't simply explored the world.

They had lived there.

Made friends.

Built relationships.

Created memories.

Then many of those people died during the Calamity.

Aurelion leaned back in his chair.

For the first time, another troubling possibility entered his thoughts.

What happened when a floor was cleared?

The question refused to leave.

The monument had declared:

Floor One Cleared.

Simple words.

Yet their meaning remained uncertain.

Did the world continue existing?

Did the inhabitants survive?

Did everything reset?

Disappear?

Restart?

Nobody knew.

The survivors had been expelled before learning the answer.

Yet the question mattered.

A great deal.

Because if future climbers were expected to interact with civilizations, then those civilizations weren't merely background scenery.

They were people.

Perhaps not human.

Perhaps not from Earth.

Perhaps not from Aurelion's world.

Yet people nonetheless.

The distinction felt important.

As midnight approached, a messenger suddenly arrived carrying urgent documents.

Aurelion accepted them immediately.

His eyes narrowed while reading.

Additional medical evaluations.

Specifically regarding the survivors.

The findings were... unexpected.

Very unexpected.

Aurelion rose from his chair.

Minutes later, he arrived at a secured research facility where several Archmages and healers were waiting.

Their expressions revealed excitement.

One of them immediately stepped forward.

"Your Highness."

Aurelion nodded.

"You found something."

The elderly Archmage smiled.

"We did."

The scholar placed several crystal recordings upon a nearby table.

"What you're about to see changes everything."

Aurelion remained silent.

The Archmage activated the first crystal.

A projection appeared.

One of the surviving soldiers.

Recorded before entering the Tower.

Then another recording appeared beside it.

The same soldier.

After returning.

At first glance, nothing seemed different.

Then the Archmage highlighted specific measurements.

Mana reserves.

Physical strength.

Reaction speed.

Magical sensitivity.

Every statistic had increased.

Every single one.

Aurelion's eyes narrowed.

The Archmage continued.

"We've tested every survivor."

His voice carried barely contained excitement.

"The results are consistent."

The room fell silent.

The implications arrived immediately.

The survivors hadn't simply returned alive.

They had returned stronger.

Significantly stronger.

The Archmage smiled.

"The Tower rewarded them."

Aurelion stared at the projections.

Months inside.

Worlds inside.

Growth inside.

His gaze slowly shifted toward the distant silhouette of the Tower visible through the facility's windows.

For the first time since its arrival, humanity possessed undeniable proof.

The Tower wasn't merely dangerous.

It wasn't merely mysterious.

It offered something.

Power.

Growth.

Evolution.

And once the wider world learned that truth...

Everything would change.

The Archmage smiled.

"The Tower rewarded them."

Aurelion stared at the floating projections while silence slowly settled throughout the research chamber. One by one, additional records appeared in the air. Different soldiers. Different classes. Different combat specializations. Yet the results remained identical across every case. Mana reserves had increased. Physical capabilities had improved. Magical sensitivity had strengthened. Even old injuries and lingering weaknesses seemed diminished compared to their condition before entering the Tower. None of the enhancements were overwhelming on their own, yet together they painted a clear picture. The Tower was not merely a place of survival. It was a place of growth. A place where individuals could evolve beyond their previous limits.

The realization sent a chill through Aurelion's spine.

Not because of the rewards themselves.

Because of humanity.

He knew people.

Kings would desire more power.

Nobles would desire more influence.

Mages would desire greater mastery.

Warriors would desire greater strength.

The moment this information became public, the Tower would cease being a mystery to avoid and become a prize to obtain. Countless individuals would willingly risk their lives for the possibility of becoming stronger. Some would enter seeking glory. Others would seek wealth. Many would seek power. Most would convince themselves that they would succeed where others had failed.

Aurelion slowly turned toward the window. Beyond the distant horizon, the Celestial Tower stood silently beneath the darkened heavens, its silver runes glowing faintly through the night. For days, humanity had feared the Tower. Soon, they would begin desiring it. And in Aurelion's experience, desire was often far more dangerous than fear.

Somewhere beyond those black walls existed ninety-nine unexplored floors.

Ninety-nine worlds.

Ninety-nine opportunities.

And perhaps ninety-nine ways to die.

Yet as he gazed toward the impossible structure, he already knew what would happen next.

The world was going to rush toward the Tower.

And nothing would be able to stop it.

[To Be Continued]