Fortunately, it seemed that the divine aura of the Waiting Room was not only useful in alleviating the aches and pains from the prior floor. He could feel the mental stress that he had accumulated beginning to whisk away. It was as if he stood basking in a comfortable breeze on a sweltering day, his discomfort flying away with the wind.

Wary of brashly tackling the next challenge blind after the difficulties of the previous floor, Dharen searched the nearby chest and retrieved the information crystal. He selected the now-available third floor option, causing a stream of information to flood his brain.

Dharen groaned. It seemed that the Tower had a wide variety of challenge types. And if he had to bet, they all had one thing in common: they were all terrible. He had a deep suspicion that there would be something unreasonable about this challenge. Maybe the checkpoint would be one hundred miles away, and he would be missing his legs. Dharen chuckled to himself. Now that would be too much. I’d throw in the towel right then and there.

Hyperbole aside, he truly did expect some level of unreasonability despite the simple nature of the objectives. There was a reason that human society separated itself into ranks of distinction depending on how high one was able to climb within the Tower. It measured strength, guile, cunning, and determination - along with a gamut of other traits. It was the ultimate proving grounds, the source of humanity’s potential to surpass savage monsters in power. In such a place, nothing was ever easy.

Throwing his reluctance aside, Dharen approached the door. He placed his hand upon its surface, and a message confirmed that it now lead to the third floor.

Though appreciative of the increase in available time to prepare for the upcoming challenge, he knew that waiting would only bode poorly for his sense of resolve. It was best to tackle things quickly, rather than to dither about.

After accepting the challenge, he found himself assaulted by the now-familiar display of shifting colors that accompanied the Tower’s teleportation. The disorienting parade of pigments ceased, and Dharen took a steadying breath.

Warm, dry air replete with a smattering of sand particles entered his lungs. He held one arm high to shade his eyes and took stock of his surroundings. A searingly powerful sun beat down on a desolate wasteland of sand. Sweat began to drip from him in a cascading downpour, watering the desert floor. His every breath was strained, the very air setting flame to his lungs.

From his vantage point atop a particularly sizable ridge of sand, he could see for miles. The desert seemed to stretch on forever, a forlorn landscape of rolling dunes and little else. With a quick sweep of his eyes, he found that he could faintly see a pillar of light rising to the sky in the far distance. The otherworldly pillar of light seemed to crown the desert in ethereal beauty, a stark centerpoint in a barren ocean of dust. With nothing else in sight, he realized that the pillar must be the aforementioned checkpoint.

With a shrug, Dharen took his first step. As a spray of sand swirled from the force of his step, a sudden squall of wind sent the fine matter hurtling towards his exposed skin. It deflected off the Vitality-hardened surface, careening back into the desert air. As if angered, the forceful gale grew ever more powerful, until the sky itself darkened under a mass of billowing sand. He began to feel an ominous foreboding, understanding he was correct in assuming the floor’s challenge would not be as simple as it had appeared. However, he also knew that he could not afford to stop at this juncture, soldiering on.

With each stride taken, the storm seemed to grow stronger and ever-increasingly malevolent. He couldn’t help but feel as if the very environment itself took fault in his persistence. As if he had insulted its pride with his dogged stamina. The wind pushed back brutally against his every movement, causing his muscles to bulge and strain.

Given dangerous velocity, hurtling fragments of sand began to scour the skin from his bones. Streaks of red tore from his arms as they raised protectively in front of his eyes, dripping crimson into the hungry sands below. He nearly staggered under the relentless assault.

Anger flaring, he pushed back, letting out a Warcry. His muscles flooded with renewed vigor. Veins raised prominently on his neck as he labored heavily under the merciless ministrations of the desert storm. His exposed skin continued to be scoured away, and even his trusty leather armor was developing a number of scratches and tears.

The world turned into a nightmare of pain, fatigue, and despair. It was only Dharen’s exceptional survivability and stamina that allowed him to forge ahead. One step turned into two, two into four. The only signs of his passing were quickly whisked away by the ever-present wind.

Under the relentless assault, he was unable to look up any longer. Dharen had to simply trust in his sense of direction to pave the way to the pillar of light. So one step followed the other, on and on. From time to time, he spotted small pockets of calm in his limited field of view. Outcroppings of rock that provided shelter from the savage storm, crags of stone to shield a harried traveler. Ignoring them, he continued on.

Despite his exhaustion, or perhaps because of it, Dharen was unable to even entertain the possibility of stopping to hide from the scouring desert sand. Trapped by the cutting winds and sand, covered in blood and grit, any sense of fear had shifted. It had transformed. His mind had honed into a blade of razor-sharp will with only one goal: Victory. He would not admit defeat. Not to scouring wind, nor to searing sun. Not even to the Tower itself.

He would not falter. He would not be stopped. Hours turned into days turned into eternity. Each step was a moment of petrifying agony, but even so - one step came, and then another. Sweat and blood mixed and mingled, coating his shredded form in a thick layer. One step came, and then another. The desert heat sucked the moisture from his lungs, setting fire to his insides. One step came, and then another. His muscles ripped and tore, protesting against his unceasing efforts. One step came, and then - he found himself back in the Waiting Room.

The unexpected temporal dislocation caused an interruption in his relentless march and, stifled, it ground to a halt. He collapsed.

Roused from his exhausted slumber by the healing ministrations of his Waiting Room’s aura, Dharen shook himself lightly. His eyes opened to a gratifying sight.

Dharen lit up with delight upon seeing that his efforts had awarded him a new Blessing. It seemed that his single-minded slog through the desert had gained him a reward that served to increase his stamina. Though a small bonus now, the strength of Undaunted Will would grow alongside him.

Excitement shaking off the leftover stupor of his death march, Dharen retrieved his soulseed rewards. One at a time, he corralled the power within the crystal to their proper place within his own soulseed of Triumph. As the second soulseed’s power twisted and coiled with a burning radiance, his soulseed answered with scorching power of its own. The two energies collided and warred, more agitated than ever before.

The golden crystal on his wrist gleamed with the radiance of a sun, forcing Dharen to close his eyes in response. The energies reached a furious peak, and then slowly began to settle. Opening his eyes again, he saw that the soulseed had grown ever-so-slightly to take up a larger portion of his wrist’s surface.

Strength and well-being flooded his veins. He found with relief that many of the whispers he had heard were true. The attribute floor was held steady at 1, so he would not have to worry about his Wisdom dropping any further than it already. That was quite a relief, as he could imagine a negative Wisdom value might prevent him from ever regenerating his Spirit. Though he had already become more powerful than he had imagined through sheer attributes alone, it would have been more than disconcerting to be unable to ever use any abilities again after depleting his Spirit.

He had surpassed what the whispers had called the first mountain - the wall that exists between those who have climbed past a Rank threshold and those who have not. He had heard that the beginning of each granted five times the bonuses of the previous rank - the exception being Spirit gain - with the levels thereafter providing significantly more benefit as the levels before. So far, it was proving true.

He flexed his muscles, revelling in the overwhelming power. Grabbing the information crystal, he requested the requisite information for the fourth floor. He grinned in anticipation. This could be fun.