Chapter 1 – 1,460 Days

Night.

Inside the silent apartment, the sound of magical explosions spilling from the phone’s speaker was crystal clear.

[“Kneel before the true sovereign. Your blood already belongs to me!”]

Mark felt a chill run down his spine when he heard that.

“…Why did I ever program you like this?”

At that moment, Mark was lying on the living room couch with his legs dangling off the edge, his neck twisted at an angle that would definitely make him pay for it the next morning.

Like any ordinary salaried young man, he didn’t have many hobbies.

No girlfriend, no friends, no family — his life was simple enough.

Games were his only refuge.

But Mark liked one in particular.

Tower Defense: Age of Blood.

As the name implied, it was a mobile game focused strictly on defense.

It was a “High-End Tower Defense Strategy” game that involved complex spells and servants, rather than just “wooden towers” shooting arrows.

Mark had been playing it since his teenage years.

He had followed the game from pixelated graphics all the way to today’s ultra-realistic 3D.

As the years passed, his avatar reached the maximum level — the legendary level 500. There wasn’t much left to do besides logging in occasionally to defend against the daily attacks and collect his rewards.

It was a routine he had kept for years.

His avatar, a Hero Unit, was the strongest unit, positioned at the very top.

Its personality was the only problem.

Tower Defense allowed players to customize everything, from corridor architecture to the avatar’s own sadistic personality, and his avatar had been designed as a villainous vampire with arrogant lines and exaggerated behavior.

He had created it when he was still young, back when he consumed certain kinds of content, so he couldn’t exactly be blamed for it.

Either way, it was a “rebellious” past he preferred not to remember, even though it was right there, recorded in every line of dialogue.

Mark shook his head, trying to focus on what mattered: the defense of the Ziggurat.

If the invaders won, he would lose his perfect login bonus, and that was the only thing that still gave him any sense of accomplishment in life.

There was no open-world exploration or vast plains to ride across; the player was confined inside the structure, acting as its intelligent core, while the outside world remained unknown.

Since the game gave total freedom to build the base, Mark had designed his fortress in the shape of a ziggurat.

The structure wasn’t an ordinary ziggurat, but a succession of five concentric rings rising in massive steps toward the center, resembling a shooting target when seen from above.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The place, named The Crimson Ziggurat, was the pride of his adolescence and the location he had to defend at all costs from enemy attacks.

Since it was still a legitimate tower defense, the gameplay was claustrophobic and strategic.

Mark spent most of his time confined within the inner space of the Ziggurat, managing resources and positioning traps, like a bunker guard watching enemies through security cameras.

Staring at the display, where his avatar faced a horde of white-armored soldiers, he frowned.

“Seriously, why do these dumb paladins have so much HP?” Mark couldn’t help cursing as an elite enemy’s health bar refused to go down.

“And their damage? Why does a generic knight hit a Level 500 this hard? This Holy Kingdom is broken!”

Mark had spent years collecting essence and strengthening his undead servants.

Even at max level, he was still having trouble clearing this trash that had entered his territory.

If the developers thought he would spend real money to buy defense buffs now, they were very mistaken!

Despite complaining, he kept playing.

Every day.

On the screen, the paladin began to glow, preparing a light skill he was weak against.

Mark exhaled through his nose.

The AI’s movements were too predictable.

“He really thinks he’s going to hit me with that?”

Waiting for the exact moment the enemy animation locked, Mark attacked using his own skill.

His finger slammed against the phone screen, pressing the glass nearly to its limit as the magical explosion devoured everything in the scene.

“Now receive my power! [SCARLET ABYSS JUDGMENT]!” the avatar shouted.

It seemed to be enjoying itself.

With the final blow, Mark watched the HP bar of the last commander of the invading army evaporate beneath a cloud of red mist.

[“Weak. Your blood isn’t even worthy of staining my floor.”]

On the screen, the avatar wiped the blood from its hands with a theatrical gesture, laughing as the victory soundtrack burst from the phone speakers.

“Done.” He murmured, feeling the adrenaline fade and the day’s exhaustion settle back onto his shoulders.