Chapter 01: When Code Collapses

*In the realm of digital rule-breakers, I reign supreme.*

Beneath a murky, indifferent moon, a constellation of tiny lights shimmered over a vast, undulating dune.

Yet this was no ordinary desert—each grain burned a deep, sanguine red, as if the sand itself were pulverized embers of a forgotten battle.

The restless, swirling sands formed a natural arena around countless warriors, all fixated on a single, enigmatic figure. Their armor, catching a ghostly luminescence, echoed the eerie presence of this solitary leader.

There he stood—a black-haired, sinewy titan radiating unyielding confidence. His armor, forged from jagged shards that seemed to pulse and writhe like living feathers, clung to his frame with an almost predatory elegance. A diaphanous cloak cascaded from his left shoulder, drifting as though guided by its own capricious will.

Without the need for a visible weapon, his slight, enigmatic smile and eyes of molten gold exuded a quiet, menacing authority.

He remained utterly motionless—a living shadow amid the tumult—mirrored perfectly by the stoic ranks arrayed before him.

At least, that was the illusion within the game.

Outside the virtual battlefield, the disparity was striking.

Seated in a cramped, cluttered room, a lone man stared intently at the avatar he controlled. His attention, however, was split between the figure on the screen and a cascade of scrolling code dancing across a secondary monitor.

This man was Riven Graves.

For him, hacking wasn't mere mischief—it was an art form. Breaking into games, bending their very code to his will, had become his life's obsession.

Today, he was locked in a duel with the most formidable game ever devised.

The challenge stretched him to his limits.

As Riven surveyed his digital double standing before a thousand mirrored foes, his mind worked like a high-speed processor.

He was injecting fresh lines of code into the legendary MMORPG *The Tower of Supreme Reign*, rewriting its rules in real time.

Dark shadows clung beneath Riven's bloodshot eyes as he hunched over his keyboard, fingers flying across the keys. His cracked lips gripped the edge of a juice pack, drawing out the last drops of hydration.

Sweat glistened beneath his worn headphones, and the hypnotic glow of meticulously arranged RGB monitors reflected in his glassy stare.

As they illuminated his room, his living space was a study in disarray—an unmade, battered steel bed buried under piles of debris, dust-laden doorknobs marking the thresholds of a cramped bathroom and the outside world, both seemingly untouched for days.

Yet, amid the chaos, his gaming station remained a shrine of precision. His PC, three synchronized screens, and peripherals were immaculate, maintained with almost ritualistic devotion.

***

At last, after another marathon session, Riven reclined in his creaking chair, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He stretched, rolling his shoulders before cracking his neck with a deliberate flourish. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the empty juice pack sailing into the trash.

"Finally," he murmured, voice rough from exhaustion, "I can finish this stupid floor and move on."

Without a moment's hesitation, his fingers danced a calculated sequence across the keyboard: 

*W → Q → E → Ctrl + A → Left Click → Right Click*

In that instant, the culmination of a week's relentless tinkering burst onto the screen.

Over every enemy's head—indeed, over every hostile entity dotting the treacherous floor—multitudes of sleek, ebony swords with glinting silver edges materialized, poised like deadly exclamation points.

A slow, triumphant grin spread across Riven's face. He stretched his legs, savoring the rush of victory. Soon, he would obliterate the floor without ever lifting a conventional weapon.

Riven had been entwined with this game since he was fifteen, ever since he discovered the thrill of twisting game mechanics with carefully crafted cheat mods.

Despite relentless practice and countless hours of grinding, he'd always felt overshadowed by those with innate talent. So, he set himself an unyielding ultimatum:

>If I can't beat the game at its own pace, then I'll make it bend to my own.

To many, hacking was merely subversive mischief—a challenge against digital fortresses and their creators.

But Riven's crusade was personal. He never monetized his work, never released his modifications to the masses; his obsession was singular:

To conquer the game he adored, no matter the cost.

For several moments, he luxuriated in his digital triumph, watching his unmoving avatar amidst a floor notorious for its brutal difficulty.

The moment any player entered this perilous realm, they faced not just a horde of enemies, but an army that mirrored every action—a perfect, ghostly reflection of themselves.

If Riven's avatar stirred, so too did his doppelgängers. 

If he summoned a blade, they answered in kind. 

If he struck one, a synchronized volley of a thousand retaliatory blows would surge forth, aiming mercilessly at his core.

Since the release of the latest floor DLC just a week ago, every challenger had crumbled within minutes. Some clung on for hours, only to be ruthlessly reset to floor one, stripped of all progress—a brutal penalty in a game that offered no endless lives. 

This game did not offer infinite respawns. Only the first to clear a floor could secure saved progress; everyone else was doomed to start over upon death.

For ten floors running, Riven's skill—or rather, his unorthodox methods—had granted him the singular privilege of a saved respawn.

No one questioned his reign.

He had cleared these treacherous floors at an almost superhuman pace, aided by his clandestine cheat mods.

Yet in his heart, a lingering need remained: he had to prove he could truly fight, that he was more than a mere code manipulator.

And now, that balance was about to shift.

After an exhaustive week spent reverse-engineering the game's architecture, injecting stealthy scripts, and rewriting the executable's DNA, he'd finally embedded a masterstroke:

An in-game cheat that could annihilate every enemy on the floor—except his own avatar.

Determined to never repeat past oversights, Riven's hand swept through his unruly hair as his finger hovered, almost reverently, over the *SPACE* key.

With one soft press, the spectral swords overhead plunged in unison. In mere heartbeats, thousands of foes disintegrated into digital oblivion. 

Riven's avatar lingered, statuesque and unchallenged, basking in a victory that felt both final and fleeting.

Then came the long, agonizing pause—waiting for that all-important pop-up: the rewards screen that would confirm his triumph.

He waited. And waited. And waited.

Yet, the screen remained unchanged. No reward window. No celebratory fanfare. Just eerie, unmoving silence.

A creeping suspicion slithered through his thoughts.

'Could it be... the developers have finally caught on?'

Before he could ponder further, his chair lurched violently.

The wheels snapped off, propelling him to the ground in a heap. The very foundation trembled beneath him as if echoing his dread.

Monitors quivered on their stands. Scattered debris—once forgotten remnants of past battles—whirled around him like confetti in a tempest.

"An earthquake?!"

He gasped, his voice a mixture of disbelief and alarm, as he clutched the wall for support.

The shaking intensified. Screens crashed to the floor, and to his mounting horror, cracks spider-webbed across the walls while chunks of the ceiling rained down like shattered dreams.

"This place is falling apart!"

Riven bellowed, his voice raw with panic and adrenaline.

Instinct overpowered reason.

Riven dashed toward his PC, yanking out every cable as if tearing off its very skin. Clutching the machine like a prized possession, he bolted for the door leading outside.

He fumbled with the handle, his hands struggling until he forced it open. Stepping out, he was immediately hit by the brutal brightness—harsh sunlight slashed at his eyes, compelling him to squint against its glare.

Then, as if pulled from the depths of a fevered nightmare, he saw it—a structure so colossal and inexplicable that it defied all logic.

Its base was embedded deep in the earth, and its summit disappeared into a swirl of clouds.

A tower.

Riven's breath hitched in astonishment. 

"Damn… a fucking tower,"

He muttered, a mix of awe and dread coloring his tone.