The livestream went wild. Viewers flooded the chat, hearts and comments exploding across the screen as the counter shot past one hundred thousand. Gifts poured in nonstop— coins, stars, and stickers flashing in waves of color. Big D’s jaw dropped, eyes wide as he stared at the screen.

"YOW! SID IS FREAKING RICH NOW— BRO, YOU SEEING THIS?!"

Up above, Sid turned slowly, the GoPro capturing the endless horizon. The city lights glittered far below, melting into the dark line of the sea. He stood in silence for a moment, the wind tearing through his hair, his eyes heavy with both exhaustion and a quiet peace. The first hints of sunrise stretched across the sky, golden and warm.

"You see that view? That’s what I was chasing. Not the fame. Not the numbers. Just... that feeling. The one that hits you deep and says, You’re alive. You made it. You survived. You get to see this, and life— life is good."

He smiled faintly, lowering the camera just as the beacon pulsed again, painting the night red.

And for the first time in a long while, Sid wasn’t climbing to prove something—

he was just standing there, breathing, living, at the very top.

His voice faltered for a second, softer now.

"Morgs, Big D... I’m coming down soon. Promise."

But his grip loosened slightly, his body trembling. The wind howled again, the beacon flickering red across his pale face. He smiled faintly into the lens, eyes half-closed.

"Let’s hit another million together, yeah?"

Sid stood at the very top of the 700 meter tower, his entire body trembling from exhaustion. The night wind tore through his jacket, carrying the metallic tang of blood and sweat. His hands were raw, knuckles split from the climb, yet he gripped the cold railing like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. Below him, the city stretched endlessly — a sea of lights flickering through the fog.

For a moment, everything was silent. No chat sounds. No voice in his headset. Just the hum of the wind and the steady flash of the red beacon beside him. He raised his camera again, his breath still heavy, but his voice calm.

"You know... when I started all this, I was just a guy with a cheap phone, a busted mic, and a dream that sounded way too big for someone who got kicked out of school."

He laughed weakly, leaning against the railing, his breath fogging in the cold air.

"Honestly, I thought that was it for me. I thought my life was over, that I’d end up some washed-out loser begging on the streets or something. Haha, guess I was wrong."

He looked down at the city far below, his voice softening.

"Everyone said this was stupid. That parkour, climbing, all these crazy stunts—none of it would lead anywhere. That I’d fail. That I’d fall. That I was wasting my life chasing a view no one else cared about."

He tilted the camera, showing his bloody side and bruised hands.

"And yeah, I did fail. A lot. I got hurt, broke things, got called crazy a hundred times."

His eyes softened.

"But here’s the thing about failure — it doesn’t mean you’re done. It just means you tried something hard enough that it could break you. And if you can keep standing after that, then you’re already winning."

The chat feed filled up instantly:

[Chat]: I needed to hear this

[Chat]: PLEASE JUST CLIMB DOWN and marry me

[Chat]: This man is definitely THAT MAN

Sid smiled faintly, turning his gaze back to the horizon.

"So yeah, maybe I’ll fail again. But I’m not afraid of it— because I know the bigger the failure, the greater the success waiting on the other side."

He took a deep breath and looked down. The long stretch of steel rungs waited beneath him, fading into darkness.

"Alright, wildlings, climbing up was for the views. Climbing down? This one is for survival."

He swung his body over the railing, gripping the side ladder with his good arm. His movements were fluid, precise — every motion calculated, muscle memory honed from years of rooftops and abandoned towers. The camera caught every sharp breath and clang of his sneaker hitting the metal. He spoke through his headset,

"Morgs, I’m on my way down. Don’t freak out."

Morgana’s panicked voice burst through the comms.

"I’m already freaking out! Just climb down slowly— no stunts, no showing off, just please, oh lord! If you slip again—"

He cut her off with a laugh.

"Then it’ll make a great thumbnail."

Big D’s booming voice came through faintly in the background.

"He’s doing it! Look at that grip! Bro’s a human spider!"

Sid’s descent was fast— too fast. He vaulted from beam to beam, swinging through gaps and using old pipes and hanging cables to skip entire sections of the ladder. Every movement was fluid, confident, and dangerously reckless, as if the bleeding wound on his leg didn’t even exist. The chat went wild watching it live, comments flooding the screen in disbelief and excitement.

"You know, this is the part I’m most excited about!"

Sid shouted between breaths, a smile tugging at his lips.

"The descent— this is what I love about climbing!"

[Chat]: THIS GUY’S NUTS

[Chat]: HE IS MOVING LIKE A GAME CHARACTER

[Chat]: SLOW DOWN SID YOU IDIOT

[Chat]: MY ACROPHOBIA

Morgana squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch how recklessly fast Sid was descending.

"GOSH, SID!"

Big D’s eyes wide but sparkling with excitement.

"Ha! That’s my guy! Look at him go! Absolute legend— he’s insane, but I’m proud as hell!"

He dropped another few meters, his feet clanging against a narrow support beam. The camera caught the dizzying view beneath him — the van looked like a toy car now.

"I don’t just climb, I study everything. Every rung, every angle. When I descend, I know exactly how to fall — that’s what gives my viewers the show!"

But as he shifted toward the next section, something felt off.