Tower of Gods

3

GAME THREE: The Tower Opens

The problem with livestreams is that you do not expect them to ruin your life. You click, you laugh, perhaps you leave a stupid remark, and you move on. Nobody anticipates that the end of the world will appear between a cat meme and a mukbang thumbnail.

But Han Tae-yang (한태양), twenty-one years old, unemployed, champion of procrastination, clicked anyway.

The slightest pressure on his busted phone screen.

And the world was altered.The video appeared, unsteady video of some streamer standing at a crossroad in Seoul. Behind him rose a tower so huge it obscured the horizon, as though someone had cut a hole in the world and inserted a monolith out of an RPG into the middle of the city. Not only was it high, but too high, and its spire was lost in the mists like a skyscraper sketched by a god before he had learned perspective.

The voice of the streamer quavered.

“Uh, guys… I don't know how to put this, but… this is… this is the Divine Tower of God Challenge. It was simply there.

The screen chat went berserk. Bullets of text were flying too fast to shoot with his camera.

[User_227] Yo, wtf is that? CGI?

[MechaDad88] Can confirm. I am a Busanite. We had one as well. [BananaFish3000] Nah, fam, that’s Photoshop.

[LoliHunter77] My mom says don’t look at it or you’ll get possessed.

The streamer switched the camera to display people on the streets shouting, cars crashing into each other, and the police screaming into their radios. Behind it all rose the tower, silent as though it had always been there, with runes carved on its surface burning.

Can everyone see this? The streamer shouted, his voice breaking. Am I not crazy? Are these not AR glasses or some joke? Bro, tell me y’all see this!”

The comments were flying.

[TomatoRice99] I see it, bro. The whole city’s freaking out.

[ChillGuy12] What time is it? Why does it look like sunset already?

[GodSlayer91] Ayooo, this is from that game! Tower of Challenge!

At that, Tae-yang’s ears pricked.

The Tower of Challenge. That dead game that he had been grinding for eleven years now. A Korean grind fest MMO so cursed it felt like the developer was the devil himself. A game made not for entrainment but to torture players, The one his middle school classmates obsessed over. The game was one of the hardest to ever exist. Nobody had been able to clear the game at all except him. Tae-yang.

He squinted at the screen, confused.

Someone commented “Why am I the only one who remembers this thing being trash?”

The streamer tried to laugh, but it came out like a cough. “Can you guys believe this? It’s like the devs just… dropped the game into reality.”

And then.

The comments detonated into chaos.

[Shinobi420] It’s real!

[HoneyButterToast] Bro, someone just walked INTO the tower entrance.

[LostSoul57] This is insane. Humanity’s done for. GG.

[MapleStoryBois] Ok, but can we loot inside, though? The streamer’s face drained of color. He lowered his phone, staring past the camera. “Wait… no, no way… did it just move?”

The live feed jumbled, pixels tearing. For a second, the tower seemed to flicker, as if reality itself was buffering.

Han Tae-yang sat at home, frozen in his gaming chair, slack-jawed. His tiny apartment smelled like instant noodles and stale socks, but he barely noticed.

“How is this… possible?” he whispered.

And then it happened.

A soundless ripple passed through the room, like his entire apartment had been dunked underwater. A transparent purple screen appeared right before his eyes.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

As a reward for completing the Divine Tower of God’s Challenge Package…

You have received: Unique Skill—[Cloning] (Summoning type).

The words glowed, floating in the air, ignoring gravity, ignoring sanity.

Tae-yang fell backward in his chair. The recliner screeched across the floor before toppling, leaving him sprawled like an overturned turtle. His heart hammered.

“Nope. Nope. I’ve seen anime. I’ve read novels. Furthermore, I know what this is. This is that ‘system’ thing. And I’m about to die in episode one, huh?”

The purple box blinked patiently, as if mocking him.

[SYSTEM UPDATE: Successful.]

All players, please conquer the next floor of the Tower within 90 days.

Failure will result in humanity's annihilation.

Tae-yang stared at the last three words until his lips went dry.

Humanity. Will. Be. Annihilated.

The recliner was still overturned. The streamer’s voice still echoed faintly from his screen. But none of it mattered because the entire world had just been drafted into a death game.

Another notification pulsed in front of him, cheerful like a customer service rep:

[SYSTEM INFO] The number of users accepting reality has increased significantly.

“Accepting reality?!” Tae-yang barked. “Who writes these lines? Some troll GM?”

He rubbed his face, pacing. His body shook, half with fear, half with manic disbelief. He felt his old instincts, the ones honed from years of bullshit games, scams, and survival in Korean society’s bottom tier, kicking in.

“I need air,” he muttered. “If this tower is real… if annihilation is on the table… I can’t just sit here doomscrolling. I need to move. Not only that, but I need to plan.”

But curiosity itched. His eyes flicked back to the system window.

Unique Skill: Cloning. Summoning type.

His gamer brain refused to stay calm. “Cloning… like Naruto? Shadow clones? Multiplicity? Please don’t tell me it’s the budget version where the clone explodes if someone pokes it.”

Against every instinct screaming at him not to, he willed the system open. “Summon.”

Light gathered in the room. A ripple of distortion bent the air, and out stepped.

Himself.

Black-haired, tall-ish, shoulders squared from gym sessions he never actually had. His face was sharper, more handsome, like Photoshop filters had been applied in real life. His skin glowed like he’d been moisturized by angels.

Tae-yang pointed. “You, you’re me?”

The clone nodded. Its eyes mirrored his own, calm and obedient.

“This is… this is insane.” He circled it, poking at its chest. Solid. Warm. Breathing.

“Can you talk?” Tae-yang asked.

“Yes,” the clone replied in his exact voice.

“Okay, that’s terrifying. Say something original.”

The clone blinked. “… You smell like ramyeon packets.”

“Damn. Rude but accurate.”

He scratched his head, still dazed. Then, on impulse, he ordered, “Get dressed.”

The clone obediently walked toward his closet, pulled out one of his hoodies, and put it on.

Just then, the door to his tiny room creaked open. His younger sister, Han Ha-neul (한하늘), peeked in, hair messy from sleep. “Oppa? Why are you shouting? And who’s that…?”

Her eyes landed on the clone. Her jaw dropped.

Drama pause.

Tae-yang’s brain screamed. Think fast!“Uh, this is… my friend! Yeah. Friend. Visiting. Early.”

The clone raised a hand awkwardly. “… Hello.”

Ha-neul narrowed her eyes. “Since when do you have friends who look exactly like you?”

Sweat poured down his back. He shoved a surgical mask onto the clone’s face and laughed too loudly. “Hahaha! Genes are wild, right? Anyway, he’s leaving! Go make breakfast, yeah?”

Before she could argue, he dismissed the clone with a thought. It vanished into shimmering particles.

Ha-neul frowned, but muttered something about eggs and shuffled off.

Tae-yang collapsed against the wall, wiping his forehead. “Holy shit. That was way too close. My clone almost got me disowned.”

He stared at the empty space where it had stood. His fear of the system hadn’t vanished, but a tiny thrill sparked inside him.

A power and a real life cheat. His very own glitch in reality.

And beyond his window, the world itself was unraveling.

He pulled on his jacket, tightened the laces of his sneakers. His pulse raced as he muttered, “If annihilation is real… if this Tower is more than a joke… then I can’t waste another second sitting here.”

He yanked the door open, his mind already racing with possibilities.

“I need to go. I need to gather items. Resources. Anything. Before it’s too late.”

His footsteps echoed down the stairwell as the system window blinked silently behind him.