Vikram Das was never meant to be a hero.
He was a delivery man with a torn raincoat, a failing bike, and a life buried under debt. A man who worried about traffic, late orders, school fees, and loan interest more than anything else.
Then the world broke.
Dragged into the Tower without warning, Vikram faced his first enemy the way most ordinary people would—with fear, panic, and bad decisions. He bought the wrong weapon. Trusted distance. Trusted logic.
And he died.
Not permanently.
But enough to understand the truth.
The Tower didn't care about excuses.
It didn't care about age, family, or intentions.
It only cared about results.
When Vikram returned, he didn't come back braver. He came back smarter. He chose survival over pride, brutality over hesitation, and lived through the tutorial with blood on his hands and resolve in his eyes.
Floor 2 took everything further.
Teammates died in seconds. Panic killed faster than monsters. Vikram learned that rushing meant death—and standing still meant the same. Alone, hunted, terrified, he adapted
He stopped trying to fight like a warrior.
He fought like prey.
By hiding. Waiting. Trapping. Striking when it mattered.
One goblin at a time.
When the jungle finally fell silent, Vikram stood alone—not victorious, not proud—but alive. The Tower rewarded him for that. Not with strength… but with silence.
A skill meant for survivors.
And then something else noticed him.
A constellation that didn't admire courage or power—but restraint. Fear. Learning.
A sponsor who saw a man willing to disappear if that meant living another day.
Now Vikram stands at a crossroads.
Still weak.
Still afraid.
Still human.
But no longer helpless.
The Tower has marked him.
And this time, it isn't asking whether he can survive.
It's asking what kind of survivor he's willing to become.
The message lingered in the air.
Cold. Silent.
Waiting.
Vikram stared at it for a long moment.
He didn't feel honored.
Didn't feel chosen.
He felt watched.
The Tower wasn't offering help out of kindness.
Neither was the constellation.
But Vikram had already learned the truth.
Refusing wouldn't make you strong.
He swallowed.
Then raised his hand.
"I accept," he said quietly.
The system responded instantly.
[SPONSORSHIP CONTRACT: CONFIRMED]
The confirmation faded, but the pressure didn't.
Something lingered.
Not a voice.
Not a message.
A presence—heavy, patient.
Then the air tightened, like the world itself leaning closer.
"Do you require resources?"
The constellation's intent brushed against him, cold and restrained. No mockery. No false warmth. Just a question, stripped of ceremony.
Vikram laughed under his breath.
A dry, tired sound.
Money. Of course it came down to that. It always did. Hospital bills. Loan notices. Rent warnings stacked like dungeon alerts in his real life. Strength mattered here—but without resources, strength only lasted until the next mistake.
He didn't hesitate this time.
"Yes," Vikram said, voice steady despite the knot in his chest. "I do."
There was no judgment. No approval either.
Only acknowledgment.
The same constellation that had watched him crawl, hide, and survive in silence accepted the answer as it was. Not heroic. Not noble. Honest.
The system reacted.
Lines of text formed, sharp and unmistakable.
[SPONSOR RESPONSE: ACKNOWLEDGED]
[INITIAL SUPPORT PACKAGE: PREPARED]
Vikram exhaled slowly.
This wasn't charity.
It was investment.
And somewhere far above, something unseen continued to watch—not to save him…
…but to see how far a man like him could go once survival was no longer his only weapon.
Vikram stared at the floating notice for a long second.
Then he reached out.
The package dissolved the moment his fingers touched it, breaking apart into streams of pale light that sank into his inventory. There was no weight, no sound—only a sudden certainty that something valuable had just changed hands.
The system responded immediately.
Clean. Precise.
[SPONSOR PACKAGE: CONTENTS IDENTIFIED]
Information poured in, line by line, forcing Vikram to focus.
[ITEM ACQUIRED]
— Veilbound Armor
Type: Light Equipment
Effect: Grants complete invisibility for 5 minutes
Cooldown: 24 hours
Activation: Manual
Vikram's breath caught.
Invisibility.
Not speed. Not strength.
An escape.
Something meant for someone who knew when to disappear.
The armor was already equipped, its presence subtle—no weight, no pressure—only a faint chill along his skin, as if the world no longer fully acknowledged him.
Before he could process it, another window slid into view.
Smaller.
Optional.
Dangerous.
[OPTIONAL TASK AVAILABLE]
[REWARD: 1,000,000 RUPEE]
[DETAILS: LOCKED]
[OPEN TO VIEW REQUIREMENTS?]
Vikram stared at the number.
One million.
The Tower didn't offer numbers like that without a reason.
His hand hovered in the air, fingers trembling slightly.
He didn't open it yet.
Some rewards weren't meant to be rushed.
And whatever lay behind that task…
it wasn't designed for heroes.
It was designed for survivors willing to gamble everything.
Got it, prince. I'll rewrite cleanly and end the chapter exactly at the task disclosure—no aftermath, no decision yet. Slightly bigger paragraphs, tight and heavy.
The window pulsed once.
Then it opened.
Not gold.
Not blue.
Red.
The color alone made Vikram's chest tighten. The Tower rarely used it, and when it did, it never meant growth—it meant crossing a line that couldn't be uncrossed.
[OPTIONAL TASK: DISCLOSED]
Vikram stood completely still as the text assembled itself, slow and deliberate, as if giving him time to turn away.
[OBJECTIVE:]
— Kill one human target
— Target must not detect the user
— No witnesses
— No system exposure
His breath caught halfway in.
A human.
Not a monster.
Not a goblin.
Not something born to kill him.
A person.
[SUCCESS CONDITION:]
— Death confirmed
— No suspicion traced to the user
[FAILURE CONDITION:]
— Detection
— Exposure
— Task termination