The first time--his foot slipped.

The second--his fear materialized.

The third--

He drew his breath.

The famed looming towers didn't hold him back as much as the jeering ghosts of his past did.

He clutched the only scroll he had managed to wrench out of the Mayor's hands. It felt slippery, and not from the sweat.

Around him, some rookies spared him a glance, and then went about their business of schmoozing with ladies, if not girls.

Ruffling his hair, he let himself get distracted. He was ready this time-ready to show the folks how to scale the Majestic Tower, if not to woo a deranged princess inside, which perhaps was a side gain.

Though he fell short of three years from his promise, it wasn't like he was history, right?

"Aye, folks. Look at the guv 'ere goin' at it again!"

Scattered laughter emerged behind him. But he smirked. If this was how he's going to get attention, then this is how he was going to pour the encrusted jewels he will steal down their yawning throats--and then...ah, that's a story for another time.

"I ain't no man for nothin'!" Exclaiming his mantra, he launched towards his aim. A groove caught his sight, and he, with cautious kicks, checked the tiny rocks fall off. Nothing much.

Everything felt similar, every nook and cranny was his next kin. He blended in with the towering mass of red sandstone bricks, as slowly and steadily, with the scroll caught between his teeth, his grip was reinforced by feminine gasps.

It took all his will to not look down and boast his wind filled hair and a darling smile. Again and again, he felt the gritty surface beneath, it tore his skin, it made him lose the scroll, which was probably on a vacation with ferocius fishes.

Seconds, minutes passed. His arms burned. He neither knew whether it was his weight that dragged him down, nor did he care.

Today the moonlight shone brighter than ever, yet it felt like a cruel beating to him rather than a mother's caress. He struggled and stopped.

Often in times like this, such adventurers glance around in exasperation and marvel at the only ever blossoming apple trees found near the almost dense, useless land of Kingdom Lanór. Yet as soon as he began appreciating it, he lurched forward.

At first it seemed his mistake. But soon every bit of the structure was shaking. And then--

He knew he shouldn't have ignored the moon. Shouldn't have underestimated the importance of this day. He knew the moonlight wasn't always so harsh.

Within moments, he sensed a deep awakening and great danger. Large, hard barriers erupted, rising to the peak of their power, depriving him from any source of light until...they stopped.

His feet slipped again.

The walls encased everything...his fear materialized.

A shrill voice reached him. Familiar.

And again, he fell. But not before noticing a white mark he'd placed last year.

Why...?