I am just an NPC ,but I rewrite the story-Chapter 65: [64] The Solo Queue

The black, needle-toothed moths didn’t just bite; they dissolved. One second, I was watching Red recoil from a moth-eaten croissant, and the next, the entire kitchen of our Silver-Port bakery was being pulled through a straw. The walls stretched into long, thin ribbons of wood and plaster, the ceiling spiraled upward like a whirlpool, and the light—that warm, golden sun through the window—was snuffed out like a candle in a gale.

"Kaelen! Red! Grab ahold of—"

My voice didn’t even make it past my teeth. The air was ripped out of my lungs, and for a terrifying heartbeat, I felt that same stretching sensation from the Void-Wastes, but more clinical. More precise. It wasn’t just my body being moved; it felt like I was being filed away in a drawer.

I hit a floor. Hard.

The impact knocked the remaining wind out of me. I lay there for a long minute, gasping, my face pressed against something cold, smooth, and smelling faintly of... bleach?

"Kaelen?" I managed to wheeze out. I rolled onto my back, my hand instinctively going to the satchel where I kept the fragments. My heart nearly stopped when I felt nothing but my own hip. I sat up fast, head spinning, and patted my belt. The satchel was gone. The Physics fragment, the Life fragment, the Space fragment—all gone.

"Red? Tybalt? Mia?"

I scrambled to my feet, my boots squeaking on the floor. I wasn’t in a bakery anymore. I wasn’t even in the bay.

I was in a box.

The room was maybe ten feet by ten feet. The walls, the floor, and the ceiling were all a matte, sterile white. There were no windows, no doors, and no visible light source, yet the room was filled with a shadowless, artificial glow. In one corner sat a small, stainless steel refrigerator. In another, a simple cot with a grey blanket.

And that was it.

"Okay," I muttered, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "Okay, Ren. Think. You’re in the Tower. Separation protocol. Standard RPG dungeon logic. The party always gets split up at the entrance of a trial."

I checked my pockets. Empty. My satchel was gone, but when I reached for the small of my back, I felt a familiar weight. The rusty knife was still there, tucked into its leather sheath. I pulled it out, and for the first time, the notched metal wasn’t just a piece of scrap; it was a lifeline.

A chime sounded. It wasn’t the deep bell of the harbor; it was a high-pitched, digital ping that sounded like a notification on a phone.

A semi-transparent blue screen flickered into existence in the air in front of me.

[Welcome, Participant Ren, to the Tower of Wishes.]

[Status: Registered.]

[Tower Level: 1]

[Rank: F]

[Title: The Anomaly]

[Current Stats:]

Strength: 10

Agility: 12

Intelligence: 15

Stamina: 10

[Inventory: Locked until Level 5]

[Shop: Locked until Level 5]

[Community Chat: Locked until Level 3]

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, pointing at the screen. "Strength 10? I was Level 20! I just fixed the damn sky! You can’t just factory reset me!" 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

The screen flickered, as if the System were thinking.

[Notice: Outside power levels are suppressed within the Tower of Wishes to ensure narrative balance. All participants begin at Tower Level 1. Skills and experience remain, but physical output is scaled to the Current Floor.]

"Narrative balance," I repeated, rubbing my temples. "Of course. God forbid the guy who has four fragments has an easy time in the magical skyscraper."

I walked over to the refrigerator. It was the only thing in the room that looked remotely like it belonged in a home. I pulled the door open. Inside were three bottles of water and a plastic-wrapped sandwich that looked like it had come from a gas station.

"Ham and cheese," I sighed, taking the sandwich out. "At least Tybalt isn’t here to see this. He’d have a stroke if he saw the quality of this bread."

I sat on the cot, unwrapping the sandwich. It was dry, the cheese was a neon shade of orange, and the ham was questionable, but it was food. As I chewed, I tried to make sense of the situation.

The Fox-creature had said the tower was a "Season of Longing." Valen had said it was a pressure valve for the world’s energy. If I was Level 1, then everyone else—Kaelen, Red, Lysandra—was probably in a room just like this one, staring at a crappy sandwich and a blue screen.

"Kaelen’s probably trying to punch the walls down," I muttered. "Red’s looking for a hidden latch. And Tybalt... Tybalt is definitely crying into his fridge."

The screen pinged again.

[Tutorial Mission: The First Step.]

[Objective: Leave the Dimension Room and enter the First Floor.]

[Reward: 100 Points, Tower Level 2.]

[Warning: The Tower is a shared space. You will encounter participants from other worlds. Non-party aggression is enabled.]

"Other worlds," I said, finishing the sandwich. I stood up, feeling a bit more solid. "So it’s a cross-server event. Fantastic."

As soon as I stood, a section of the white wall began to dissolve, turning into a shimmering portal of liquid gold—the same material that had formed the tower’s entrance in the bay.

I grabbed my knife, took a deep breath, and stepped through.

The transition was instantaneous. The smell of bleach was replaced by the heavy, cloying scent of ozone and burning rubber. The floor beneath my feet was no longer smooth; it was made of rusted metal plates and heaps of tangled wires.

I was in a graveyard. But not a graveyard for people.

A graveyard for machines.

Massive skeletons of what looked like bipedal tanks—mechs, I realized—loomed in the twilight. They were rusted, their limbs missing, their cockpits open like screaming mouths. The sky above wasn’t gold anymore; it was a bruised, static-filled purple, with lightning that never quite struck the ground.

[Floor 1: The Scrap-Yard of Echoes.]

[Mission: Retrieve one ’Core of Intent’ from a Sentinel.]

I ducked behind a pile of rusted iron beams. About fifty yards away, something was moving. It wasn’t an Echo, and it wasn’t a Covenant soldier.

It was a man.

He was wearing a skin-tight suit of black polymer with glowing blue lines running down the sleeves. On his back was a rifle that looked like it fired concentrated sunlight. He was moving with a practiced, military precision, his head scanning the horizon through a high-tech visor.

[Target: Unknown Participant]

[Level: 2]

[World: Sector-7 (Cyber-Urban)]

I watched him. He was looking for a Sentinel too. He didn’t see me, or if he did, he didn’t care. He was focused on a small, hovering drone that was chirping a few feet ahead of him.

"Other worlds," I whispered. This wasn’t a fantasy novel anymore. This was a collision.

The "Sentinel" appeared a moment later. It wasn’t made of obsidian like the ones in Aethelgard. This thing was a jagged, four-legged walker made of scrap metal and glowing red wires. It looked like it had been kit-bashed together by a madman.

The man in the black suit didn’t hesitate. He pulled the rifle from his back and fired.

A bolt of blue plasma tore through the air, hitting the Sentinel in its main sensor eye. The machine screeched—a sound of grinding gears and feedback—and charged.

The fight was fast. The man used gadgets—magnetic grenades that slowed the machine down, a retractable wire that let him swing over the debris. He was clearly a high-level player in his own world, but here, in the Tower, his movements were hindered by the same "narrative balance" that had stripped my stats. He was breathing hard, his plasma rifle overheating after only a few shots.

He eventually brought the machine down, stabbing a glowing blue rod into its chassis. The Sentinel slumped, its red lights fading.

The man reached into the machine, pulled out a small, vibrating sphere, and tucked it into a pouch on his thigh.

"Got it," he muttered. His voice was modulated, sounding robotic through his visor.

He looked around, his visor passing over my hiding spot. He paused for a heartbeat. I gripped my knife, ready to move.

He didn’t fire. He just gave a curt, two-finger salute toward the beams and disappeared in a flash of light. He’d finished his mission. He was moving to Floor 2.

I stood up, my legs feeling heavy. "Okay. So that’s how it is. We’re all competing for the same resources."

I looked at the graveyard. I needed my own Sentinel.

I started walking deeper into the scrap-yard. The wind whistled through the hollow ribs of the mechs, making a sound like a low, mechanical moan. It was a depressing place—a world where technology had failed and been forgotten.

After about twenty minutes of searching, I found mine.

It was smaller than the one the tech-man had fought, but it looked meaner. It was perched on top of a pile of old tires, its single red eye scanning the ground. It had two jagged saw-blades where its front legs should be.

[Target: Scrapyard Sentinel (F-Rank)]

[Tower Level: 1]

I didn’t have a plasma rifle. I didn’t have magnetic grenades. I had a rusty knife and some Level 10 Strength.

"This is going to suck," I said.

I didn’t charge. I knew my stats weren’t high enough for a head-on brawl. Instead, I looked at the environment. To the left of the Sentinel was a massive, hanging crane arm, held up by a single, frayed cable.

I picked up a piece of scrap metal and threw it at a pile of barrels on the opposite side.

CLANG.

The Sentinel’s head snapped toward the noise. It hopped off the tires, its saw-blades sparking against the ground as it skittered toward the barrels.

It passed right under the crane.

I ran.

My Agility was low, but my instinct was still sharp. I reached the base of the crane, where the winch was rusted shut. I didn’t try to turn it. I took my knife and slammed the hilt against the locking pin.

The pin was stuck.

The Sentinel heard me. It spun around, its red eye flaring. It let out a metallic roar and charged, its saw-blades spinning into a blur.

"Come on, you piece of junk!" I shouted, hitting the pin again.

The machine was ten feet away. Five feet.

CLACK.

The pin sheared off.

The crane arm plummeted.

The Sentinel tried to dodge, but the heavy iron claw caught it across the back, pinning its rear legs to the ground. The machine shrieked, its blades hacking uselessly at the dirt.

I didn’t wait. I jumped onto the Sentinel’s back.

The metal was hot, vibrating with a frantic energy. I found the seam in its neck—the place where the red wires were most concentrated.

"Nothing personal," I said, and drove the rusty knife deep into the core.

The Sentinel shuddered. The red light in its eye flickered, then turned a dull grey. The saw-blades slowed and stopped.

A small, glowing sphere popped out of a hatch in its chest.

[Mission Item Obtained: Core of Intent.]

[Tutorial Mission: Complete.]

[Rewards:]

+100 Points

Tower Level 2 Reached.

The world began to shimmer.

"Wait!" I shouted. "The team! Can I talk to them yet?"

[Notice: Community Chat unlocks at Level 3. Keep climbing, Participant Ren.]

The scrap-yard dissolved.

I was back in the white room. But it had changed. A small table had appeared next to the bed, and on top of it was a copper bowl.

I walked over to the fridge. I needed water.

I pulled the door open and froze.

Inside the fridge, taped to a bottle of water, was a piece of parchment. It wasn’t digital. It wasn’t part of the system.

It was a handwritten note.

Ren,

I found a way to the fridge. The dog says hi.

I’m at Level 4. Get moving, slowpoke.

P.S. The ham is terrible. Don’t eat it.

- Red.

I stared at the note, a huge grin breaking across my face.

"She found a way to the fridge," I laughed, leaning my head against the cold door. "Of course she did. She’s a thief."

I looked at the blue screen.

[Current Level: 2]

[Next Mission: The Floor of Whispers.]

"Alright, Red," I said, grabbing the water. "I’m coming."

I didn’t even sit down. I walked straight to the golden portal that had reappeared in the wall.

Floor 2 was waiting. And if Red was already at Level 4, I had some serious grinding to do.

As I stepped through the portal, I felt a vibration in my pocket. I reached in and pulled out a small, iron coin. It was the coin Gondar had given me for the boat.

It was glowing.

"He said to break the damn thing," I whispered.

The transition hit me, and the white room vanished.

I landed in a forest. But it wasn’t the green of the Weald. The trees were made of white bone, and the leaves were made of tattered, black lace. The air was filled with a low, constant whispering.

[Floor 2: The Forest of Forgotten Vows.]

[Mission: Find your reflection.]

I looked at the bone-trees. I looked at my rusty knife.

"One floor at a time," I said.

I started walking.

The silence of the solo queue was heavy, but knowing Red was out there somewhere made it bearable.

But as I moved through the bone-trees, I saw something that made me stop.

Hanging from a branch was a silver gauntlet.

Lysandra’s gauntlet.

It was covered in rust, and a single black ribbon was tied around the wrist.

"Lysandra?" I called out.

The whispering of the forest grew louder, the voices sounding like a thousand people all saying my name at once.

"Ren... Ren... Ren..."

I didn’t look back. I knew the rules of a haunted forest.

"Keep moving," I told myself. "It’s just the tower. It’s just a wish."

But as I walked, the black lace leaves began to fall, drifting down like snow. And for a second, I saw a figure standing between the trees.

It wasn’t a tech-man. It wasn’t a Sentinel.

It was a man in a tattered grey cloak, holding a bowl of cold tea.

The Architect.

"You’re late again, Ren," the figure whispered, and then vanished.

I gripped my knife until my knuckles turned white.

"I’m coming for that tea," I muttered, and pushed deeper into the woods.

The Tower of Wishes was no longer a skyscraper. It was a mirror. And I was about to find out exactly what I was looking at.

[Tower Level: 2]

[Status: Progressing.]

[Next Objective: Reach Level 3 (Unlock Chat).]

The grind was getting psychological. And I really wished I had a muffin.

"Red," I whispered to the bone-trees. "Save me a seat."

I walked into the dark.

Somewhere, in another room, Kaelen was screaming at a wall.

Somewhere, Tybalt was trying to bake a rock.

And somewhere, the Tower was laughing.

The game was on.