A Necromancer's Guide to Clearing a Game Like Tower

James woke up the next morning to his phone buzzing nonstop on the nightstand.

He picked it up and saw hundreds of notifications filling the screen while messages, missed calls, stream clips, news alerts, and contact requests from random people he didn’t know scrolled past faster than he could read them. His name was still everywhere across every Challenger network and news site, with people calling him the Necromancer of Team Zero in every headline.

He ignored most of it while scrolling through the noise until he stopped at a message from an unfamiliar number.

Unknown: Hey James, this is Amelia.

Unknown: From high school. I don’t know if you remember me.

Unknown: We’re having a class gathering tonight.

Unknown: A few people asked if you could come after seeing the stream.

James typed back.

James: How did you get my number?

The reply came quickly.

Amelia: Someone still had it from the old class contact list.

Amelia: I understand if you don’t want to come, but the gathering is tonight and I thought I should ask.

James almost ignored the message entirely before he remembered Ethan, Mark, and the others while their faces came back sharp and clear in his mind.

He decided to go because he wanted them to see him now.

James: Okay.

Amelia: Really?

James: Yeah.

Amelia: I’ll add you to the group chat so they know you’re coming.

James didn’t answer after that because he only wanted to watch what happened next.

Amelia added James to the old class group chat a minute later.

James didn’t reply in the group.

He only read while the chat started moving immediately.

Amelia added James Ganner

Ryan: Wait.

Mia: Is that actually him?

Chloe: No way.

Ryan: James?

Liam: Bro, that was you on the stream?

Mia: He’s really coming?

Amelia: He said okay.

Ryan: This is mad.

Chloe: I thought people were joking.

Ethan: Lol.

James’s eyes stopped on Ethan’s message because Ethan was one of the boys who used to make his school life miserable, and even now, he didn’t need to say much.

James still said nothing while more messages flooded in, but he put the phone down before reading everything.

James went to the kitchen where his mother was making tea when she noticed his expression and asked what happened.

"My old classmates invited me to a gathering," James said.

His mother became quiet.

She remembered enough even though James never told her everything, but she knew high school wasn’t good for him because she remembered how often he came home silent and how often he said he was fine when he clearly wasn’t.

"Are you sure you want to go?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Are you going because you want to see them or because you want them to see you?"

James didn’t answer immediately.

Then he said, "Both."

His mother didn’t scold him because she understood the wound behind the answer. She only asked what he planned to wear.

James pulled out something from his wardrobe.

She rejected it immediately. "No. Not for them."

James said clothes didn’t matter.

"They do tonight," his mother said before adding, "You’re not going to meet people who mocked you looking like you still owe them an apology."

His mother took him shopping, but the trip was fast because the goal wasn’t fashion but preparation.

They went to a good clothing store where some staff recognized James from the stream and whispered to each other, but his mother ignored them while focusing on finding something sharp for him.

She walked through the racks with purpose before pulling out options and holding them up against him. James reached for a gray shirt, but she shook her head before putting it back. He tried a black jacket while she rejected that too.

"This one," she said while handing him fitted dark trousers, a clean white shirt, a well-cut black jacket, polished shoes, and a simple watch from the display case.

James kept picking other clothes whenever she turned away.

His mother kept catching him before putting them back.

"Looking good is not arrogance," she told him. "It’s respect. For yourself."

James eventually stopped arguing before letting her choose.

He also paid for a few things for her, but she tried to refuse until James told her to pick something. She gave him a long look before finally accepting a scarf she’d been eyeing earlier.

After shopping, James decided to buy a car because he’d already been thinking about it after the stream payout, but the gathering gave him a reason to stop delaying while his mother didn’t fully approve but didn’t stop him either because she knew tonight wasn’t just about seeing old classmates but about closing a Chapter that had stayed open too long.

They went to a luxury dealership where the showroom floor gleamed under bright lights while expensive cars sat displayed. A salesman approached quickly when they entered, but his practiced smile shifted when he recognized James from the news coverage.

James walked past sedans and SUVs before stopping at a black sports car.

The salesman explained the specifications while James listened, but he’d already decided.

The staff recognized him and treated him carefully while processing the purchase. His mother stood beside him during the paperwork before warning him not to drive like an idiot just because the car was fast.

James mentioned he had a license because his mother had forced him to learn and get one when he was sixteen. Back then he’d complained about the cost and the time. Now he was grateful she’d made him do it.

Back home, James got ready for the gathering while his mother adjusted his collar before fixing small details and studying him properly because he looked different now.

"Don’t go there looking for trouble," his mother said.

"I’m not."

"Don’t let old anger control you."

"I only want them to see me."

His mother nodded before telling him to hold his head high.

By evening, James left in his new car while the engine purred smoothly beneath him. He didn’t feel nervous like he would for a date because this feeling was colder and more controlled when he thought about closing a memory instead of reconnecting with anyone.