'Status window'
In response to his cognitive prompt, a luminescent, emerald hued holographic interface, reminiscent of the hyper advanced systems found in high tier virtual reality gaming, materialized before his eyes. It was a private sanctum of information, invisible to the mundane gazes of his classmates.
[STATUS]
NAME: REAGAN GREYWOODS | LEVEL: 1
RACE: HUMAN | CLASS: {NONE}
TITLE: {NONE}
HP: 10 | MP: 0
STRENGTH: 2 | STAMINA: 3
AGILITY: 3 | INTELLIGENCE: 7
DEFENSE: 2 | FATIGUE: 0
ATTRIBUTE POINTS: 0
[SKILLS]
{NONE}
Reagan stared at the dismal figures.
"Am I that weak or just average?" He pondered. A second notification pulsed into existence, demanding an answer he had spent thirty days avoiding
[QUEST]
[ENTER THE TOWER??]
YES: 666 666 666
NO: 666 666 666
TOTAL NO OF PLAYERS: 1 333 333 333
TIME REMAINING: 16hrs: 58mins: 48sec
The weight of the world rested on a single vote.
"Am I really the tie breaker," he realized with a jolt of ice in his veins. If he chooses YES, he would be plunged into a meat grinder of 100 floors with no guarantee of return. He turned nineteen on the first hour of the New Year meaning that among his siblings, he is the only one designated as a player.
If he chose NO, he feared the promise of the The Apocalypse would come to fruition.
His internal monologue was abruptly severed by the arrival of a female instructor. The mundane rhythm of school life, Calculus and military drills, passed in a blur of anxiety. By 4:00 pm, the mandated curfew forced an early dismissal. With the transportation systems paralyzed by restrictions, Reagan began a grueling two-hour trek home. By the time he collapsed onto his bed at 8:00 pm, his ankles throbbed with a rhythmic, stabbing heat. He fell into a heavy, dreamless stupor, unaware that the countdown was reaching its terminus.
[MIDNIGHT]
The month ended not with a whimper, but with the roar of a dying world.
Boom! Boom!
Reagan was thrown from sleep as explosions rocked the foundations of their home. He lunged for the window, drawing back the curtains to reveal a world transformed into a nightmare. Crimson circular vortexes - spatial rifts that defied every law of physics, tore through the atmosphere.
From these bleeding wounds in reality, monster's surged forth. Six-foot-long ants with obsidian hard exoskeletons scuttled over rooftops; lupine beasts covered in brown fur and with eyes of liquid hunger stalked the shadows; and two foot tall, verdant, hairless emerald skinned goblins cackled as they unsheathed rusted daggers. The building groaned under the pressure of a nearby explosion. A thunderous crack echoed as the ceiling gave way. The crushing weight of the concrete pinned him on the floor. The world went black.
"Reagan! Wake up! Please!"
The voice of his sister, Laura, pierced through the cacophony of ringing ears and blurry vision. When he finally forced his eyes open, the moonlight spilled through the jagged hole in the ceiling, illuminating Laura's tear-streaked face, stained with blood from a forehead laceration. The scent of ozone and burning timber was suffocating.
"Where are mother and Telvin?" he wheezed, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth.
"Mom is... she is badly injured. Telvin is trying to get her to the hospital," she sobbed.
Adrenaline, cold and sharp, overrode the agony of five shattered ribs and a dangling, dislocated shoulder. He clawed his way out the ruins of their home, witnessing a landscape of pure carnage. Neighbors were being torn apart; others fought back with desperate, futile gunfire.
He reached the street as Telvin loaded their unconscious mother into a neighbor's car. The fifteen minute drive to the hospital was a blur of dodging monsters and navigating debris choked street. Upon arrival, Laura's military health card secured their mother a priority position in the ICU. The sterile white halls were now a chaotic triage center. The verdict from the doctor was a death sentence delivered in a soft voice: "Brain damage... hypoxia... She's in a coma. There is nothing more we can do."
Guilt, more corrosive than any acid, dissolved Reagan's resolve.
"Why?" Reagan whispered, his voice cracking as he watched his mother's pale form through the glass.
"Why didn't I choose YES earlier? If I hadn't been paralyzed by my own selfishness, perhaps the system wouldn't have defaulted to this carnage."
Consumed by a visceral, soul eating guilt, Reagan wandered out of the hospital, oblivious to the dangers lurking in the periphery. He sat down on a lonely bench, welcoming the prospect of his own end as a form of penance.
A low growl vibrated from the nearby shrubbery. A shadow detached itself from the darkness, a wolf, it's muscles tensed for the kill. With a sudden, explosive burst of speed, the beast lunged. Its massive paw caught Reagan in the chest, hurling him against a gnarled tree with a bone snapping force. Another rib splintered, likely puncturing a lung. He slumped against the trunk, coughing up a thick gulp of blood.
'It hurts... is this the end I deserve?' he pondered, his life flashing before his eyes in fragmented memories of his siblings' laughter and his mother's quiet strength. He was ready to die.
The wolf was mid sprint, its jaws agape, mere inches from his throat. In the final microsecond before the fangs could tear through his jugular, Reagan projected a singular, desperate thought into the interface.
"YES."