Chapter 150: The First Floor Report
The revelation did not remain confined to the command chamber for long.
Within hours, copies of Commander Reinhardt’s report had reached the highest levels of the Imperial government. Military headquarters received emergency transcripts. The Imperial Research Council immediately assembled dozens of scholars. Archmages locked themselves inside laboratories. Noble families dispatched private investigators to verify every detail. The Empire had spent days attempting to understand the Tower from the outside. Now, for the first time, they possessed information from within.
And that information changed everything.
Aurelion spent most of the night reviewing the testimonies gathered from surviving members of the reconnaissance unit. Although Commander Reinhardt had provided the broad overview, every surviving soldier contributed additional details. Some reports focused on geography. Others described local culture. Several documented combat encounters. Individually, the accounts appeared fragmented. Together, they painted a disturbing picture.
The first floor was not a dungeon.
The first floor was not a battlefield.
The first floor was not even a trial in the conventional sense.
It was a functioning world.
An actual world.
Entire cities existed within it. Kingdoms maintained governments. Merchants conducted business. Farmers cultivated crops. Children attended schools. Religious institutions spread doctrine. Criminal organizations operated in secret. Everything functioned exactly as it would within any ordinary nation.
The more Aurelion read, the stranger the situation became.
One report described a city containing nearly two hundred thousand residents.
Another detailed trade routes extending across multiple regions.
Several soldiers had apparently spent weeks interacting with local officials without discovering any evidence that the inhabitants were artificial.
Artificial.
Even that word felt increasingly incorrect.
The people inside the Tower laughed.
They cried.
They loved.
They feared.
According to multiple testimonies, many civilians had willingly risked their lives protecting family members during the Calamity attacks.
No illusion should have been capable of such complexity.
No magical construct should have possessed that level of realism.
Yet the evidence continued pointing toward an uncomfortable conclusion.
The inhabitants were either genuinely alive.
Or the Tower was capable of creating life itself.
Neither possibility comforted Aurelion.
The following morning brought another emergency summit.
Unlike previous meetings dominated by speculation, today’s discussions revolved around concrete information. Every important figure within the Empire had gathered once again. The Emperor occupied his usual position at the head of the table while military commanders, Archmages, saints, and noble representatives filled the surrounding seats.
The atmosphere differed significantly from earlier summits.
People were excited.
Concerned.
Curious.
Most importantly, they were no longer completely blind.
The Emperor allowed several moments for everyone to settle before speaking.
"Commander Reinhardt’s report has been distributed."
Numerous heads nodded.
"We will begin with conclusions."
His gaze swept across the room.
"The Tower contains worlds."
Simple words.
World-changing implications.
Several attendees still appeared uncomfortable with the concept.
One elderly noble patriarch eventually spoke.
"Your Majesty, with respect, are we absolutely certain these so-called worlds aren’t illusions?"
The question had already been considered extensively.
One of the Archmages immediately answered.
"No."
The noble blinked.
"No?"
"We are not certain."
The Archmage folded his hands.
"However, every available piece of evidence supports their existence."
He paused.
"Furthermore, multiple magical examinations of returning soldiers revealed no signs of long-term illusion exposure."
The room grew quiet.
The conclusion remained difficult to accept.
Yet reality rarely cared about comfort.
The discussion gradually shifted toward practical matters.
Time dilation.
Environmental dangers.
The mysterious Calamity.
Potential exploration strategies.
Every topic generated dozens of questions.
Unfortunately, answers remained limited.
Nobody knew what existed beyond Floor One.
Nobody understood the purpose of the Calamity.
Nobody knew whether future floors operated according to similar principles.
Humanity had taken a single step into the Tower.
Ninety-nine floors remained unexplored.
The realization was humbling.
Aurelion listened carefully throughout the meeting.
Unlike many others, his attention focused less on what they had learned and more on what they hadn’t learned.
Several inconsistencies bothered him.
For example, why had the Tower expelled the reconnaissance unit?
The report clearly stated that touching the monument resulted in immediate removal.
Why?
What purpose did that serve?
If the Tower intended climbers to continue ascending, why prevent progression?
Another issue concerned the Calamity itself.
The timing felt suspicious.
An entire civilization repeatedly threatened by a mysterious disaster.
A disaster appearing across generations.
A disaster seemingly connected to Floor One’s completion.
It felt intentional.
Designed.
As though the Tower had created a challenge rather than a natural event.
The more Aurelion considered it, the more convinced he became that every floor represented a test.
Not necessarily a combat test.
A broader examination.
Leadership.
Survival.
Adaptability.
Problem-solving.
The possibilities were endless.
The Tower appeared interested in more than simple strength.
Several hours later, the summit finally concluded.
Yet the Empire’s response was only beginning.
Throughout the following days, preparations accelerated dramatically.
Research divisions expanded.
Military planning intensified.
New expeditions were proposed.
Every major institution within the Empire began adapting to the Tower’s existence.
The most visible changes occurred near the structure itself.
What had once been a collection of temporary camps rapidly transformed into something larger.
Permanent settlements emerged.
Merchant caravans arrived daily.
Blacksmiths established workshops.
Alchemists opened stores.
Information brokers appeared seemingly overnight.
The area surrounding the Tower was evolving into an entirely new frontier.
Humanity’s newest obsession.
Aurelion observed many of these developments firsthand.
Several days after the summit, he traveled toward the Imperial settlement near the Tower. Unlike previous visits focused primarily on observation, this journey served a different purpose.
Preparation.
The Crown Prince needed to see the situation personally.
As his carriage approached the settlement, the scale of recent growth became immediately apparent. Hundreds of structures now occupied territory that had been empty only weeks earlier. Roads connected various sections of the encampment. Defensive walls surrounded key facilities. Merchants advertised supplies specifically designed for prospective climbers.
The atmosphere felt strangely familiar.
Not because of the Tower.
Because of humanity.
Throughout history, people had always behaved similarly when opportunities appeared.
Gold rushes.
Trade routes.
New continents.
The details changed.
Human nature remained constant.
Where opportunity existed, people followed.
The Tower represented perhaps the greatest opportunity civilization had ever encountered.
Naturally, crowds gathered.
Aurelion spent much of the afternoon exploring the settlement while speaking with various groups. Scholars eagerly discussed theories regarding future floors. Merchants analyzed economic opportunities. Adventurers boasted about eventual plans to challenge the Tower.
Everyone possessed dreams.
Ambitions.
Expectations.
Few truly understood the risks.
Commander Reinhardt’s report had become public knowledge by this point. Yet despite learning about casualties and dangers, public enthusiasm continued growing.
Aurelion found that interesting.
Humanity rarely focused on warnings.
People preferred possibilities.
The promise of ascension sounded far more attractive than the threat of death.
As evening approached, he eventually arrived at one of the observation platforms overlooking the Tower itself.
The structure appeared even larger than before.
Perhaps it was merely perception.
Or perhaps familiarity revealed details previously overlooked.
The silver runes covering its surface seemed more active than usual. Massive celestial rings continued their endless rotation. Black storm clouds remained concentrated around the upper reaches.
Silent.
Patient.
Eternal.
The Tower showed no concern for humanity’s excitement.
No concern for fear.
No concern for plans.
It simply existed.
Aurelion stood there for a long time.
Thinking.
Watching.
Planning.
Eventually, footsteps approached from behind.
Grand Duke Caelion.
The older man joined him at the railing without speaking.
For several moments, both simply observed the horizon.
Then Caelion sighed.
"You’ve already decided."
Aurelion smiled faintly.
"Have I?"
"Yes."
The Grand Duke leaned against the railing.
"You’re going in."
It wasn’t a question.
A statement.
Aurelion didn’t deny it.
The silence served as confirmation.
Caelion laughed softly.
"I figured."
"You sound disappointed."
"Not disappointed."
The older man glanced toward the Tower.
"Concerned."
Aurelion understood.
The concern wasn’t unreasonable.
Entering the Tower meant stepping into complete uncertainty.
Even the first successful expedition had suffered devastating casualties.
Future floors could prove even more dangerous.
Yet the decision felt inevitable.
The Tower wasn’t simply another challenge.
It was the challenge.
The defining event of an era.
History would revolve around it.
Civilization would revolve around it.
Ignoring such a phenomenon wasn’t realistic.
Especially not for someone in Aurelion’s position.
Eventually, darkness began spreading across the landscape.
The settlement below gradually illuminated with thousands of lights. Merchants closed shops. Guards assumed night patrol duties. Conversations continued throughout taverns and gathering halls.
Life moved forward.
Even beneath the shadow of the impossible.
Aurelion’s gaze remained fixed upon the Tower.
Somewhere beyond those walls existed worlds.
Cities.
Kingdoms.
Civilizations.
Ninety-nine unexplored floors.
Ninety-nine unanswered questions.
And perhaps something waiting at the summit.
Something important.
Something dangerous.
Something worth discovering.
The thought should have been intimidating.
Instead, excitement slowly grew within his chest.
For years, he had navigated a future largely shaped by knowledge.
The Tower offered something entirely different.
The unknown.
A future that couldn’t be predicted.
A story without spoilers.
And as the colossal structure loomed against the night sky, dominating the horizon like a monument to mystery itself, Aurelion reached a simple conclusion.
The age of observation was ending.
Sooner or later...
The age of climbers would begin.
[To Be Continued]
