It began suddenly.
No warning, no explanation. No mercy.
At first, there was only a faint trembling of the earth—barely noticeable, as if nature itself was holding its breath. But in the next few seconds, the world shuddered. The fury of the earth's core burst forth with such force, it was as if the world itself tried to turn over.
I remember how, that day, every news channel flashed the same urgent message:
"Massive earthquakes across the globe. Repeat, this is not a local phenomenon — epicenters have been recorded in major cities: Seoul, Beijing, Moscow, New York, Rio de Janeiro, and dozens of others..."
And then—shock.
From beneath the earth, breaking through concrete, asphalt, and layers of civilization, towers began to rise. Colossi. Giants. Their peaks vanished into the clouds, towering above the horizon like spears of ancient gods driven into the body of the earth.
There were thirteen of them.
They emitted no energy, made no movements, and didn't respond to any attempts to study them. They simply stood there. Like sentinels or… gateways. Scientific institutions devoted everything to investigating them. I remember the headlines:
"Aliens?"
"Forgotten Atlantean technology?"
"The Illuminati take over the world?" — there were as many theories as there was panic. People wanted answers. But the towers remained silent.
And the gates were locked.
Glass, metal, stone—it didn't matter. Anything used on their surface bounced off or crumbled into dust. Tanks, lasers, explosives—nothing worked. They were invulnerable.
After three years, the world got used to them. The towers became part of the landscape. They no longer scared people—they simply exhausted them with their mystery.
Humanity learned to live with them, like a scar on the face of history.
Seoul. Present day.
The morning began like any other. Dusty air, the smell of street food, the drone of traffic. People rushing about. Someone laughing, someone arguing over the phone. The tower on the horizon—a familiar shadow. I sped along on my moped, weaving between cars with another delivery.
"Here's your order," I muttered, handing a paper bag to a tired office clerk.
"Thanks," he nodded briefly. No tip, no smile. Typical day.
I climbed to the rooftop of a nearby building, opened an energy drink, sat on the edge, leaned back, and took a long sip. Seoul spread out before me—a concrete river, endless waves of windows and lights.
"What a bastard..." I muttered. "Could've at least tipped something."
This job—it wasn't a life, it was punishment. Same thing every day. Deliveries, traffic, exhaustion. Dreams—drifting further away like sunken ships. I looked at the distant tower—enormous, silent, as always.
What are you hiding?
And then… the ground trembled again.
Not like back then, three years ago—this was different. Sharp, focused, as if the heart of the earth flinched in pain.
People started screaming, debris crumbled from building façades, cars screeched to a halt, someone dropped to their knees. And in that same moment, right before my eyes, something flared in the air.
A translucent blue window, like a hologram from a sci-fi movie. The text—clear, cold:
Attention: Planetary Object User — R2010.
Protection period remaining: 3 months.
You now have access to enter the Towers.
Good luck.
My hand froze on the can. I stared at the window, not believing my eyes. My heart pounded twice as fast. I slowly turned my head. And I saw—I wasn't alone.
People had stopped. They were looking around, staring into the air. Someone tried to touch the nothingness. Others waved their hands, shouting, "You see this too?!"
Yes, I see it.
And it's real.
"Protection period"... "three months"... "access granted"... What does it all mean? Who is this "user"? Why are the towers active now?
My breath caught. The world seemed to expand, becoming deeper, more terrifying. Something ancient, something alien… had awakened. The tower was no longer just a silhouette on the skyline—it was waiting.
And I… I felt the call was inevitable.
While the crowd scattered in panic, I stared at the starry sky, barely visible through the city's smog. Out there, billions of kilometers away, maybe someone was watching.
Or maybe it all started here, on Earth, a long time ago. And now… everything was entering its final phase.
Enter the Tower?
Protection period?
Player?
It all sounded like a game… but it felt like a war.
I finished the energy drink, placed the can down. Stood up. And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel fear. No. I felt excitement. A thrill. Anticipation.
This was a chance. My chance.
Everything would change.
I looked toward the Tower. Its silhouette darkened against the night sky, as if carved from the very shadows. And deep inside… something in me responded to its call. As if… it had been waiting for me all along.