Chapter 101
Chapter 101
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 101
Chapter Title: If It's to Draw the Big Picture (1)
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**Final Phase Boss**
King Crom of the Pitch Leather.
Even the DAT veterans didn't have much info on him.
Hardly any users had made it that far, and those who did couldn't last ten minutes before dying.
'That's why everyone was ready to give up. Getting there was tough enough, but Crom's difficulty was insane... No way to clear it.'
Then one day, they discovered the Save Ticket.
That hidden stage I'd found on the 8th Floor became a must-do.
In a roguelike game where death meant game over, a temporary save...
'It's a ridiculously overpowered item.'
Honestly, my heart was pounding a bit.
With this, the difficulty could drop significantly.
'...Is there one here too?'
Only one thing bothered me.
Unlike other DAT items, its name and description were totally off.
Even using the straight name "Save Ticket."
The description was straightforward and helpful too.
DAT never explained item effects so nicely.
'...It felt like an item made for game users.'
Everything here had names and descriptions that fit DAT's world. The "world" inside DAT, that is.
That's why opening the box had me so on edge.
Would there really be an item for users here?
...No escape portals below the 4th Floor suggested this world might be different.
Swish—
Swallowing hard, I felt around inside the box.
Please, something. No, it has to be a Save Ticket.
Wishing desperately, my hand touched something.
"...Huh?"
It wasn't the familiar pink ticket.
But before annoyance could set in, my eyes widened at what I held.
"...Resurrection Stone Fragment?"
Not a Save Ticket.
"A Resurrection Stone instead of a Save Ticket...?"
It was the closest thing.
Staring at the glowing green crystal, I let out a hollow laugh.
Even fragmented, find the rest of the pieces, and it'd be another cheat item.
"In the game, you only see this a handful of times, and it drops here?"
Completing it wasn't easy. But if these kept dropping from the Save Ticket spots I'd check later...
"Not a bad balance patch."
Too early to despair.
* * *
Time to head back to Regin.
Park Jin-seong reminded himself as he walked toward the light.
His steps were lighter than expected.
Not a Save Ticket, but something on par with it.
'Seven Save Tickets total. If each gives a Resurrection Stone Fragment, that's three full stones.'
There was one you could get normally by clearing the game.
Adding that made four Resurrection Stones.
'In the final phase, four survive.'
Simple use: resurrection.
Its value was huge precisely because it was simple—ignore death once.
At least no worries about losing someone on the way to the final phase... or dying himself.
'Once I collect and complete the fragments, anyway.'
What if it had been a Save Ticket? But that was impossible.
No time-rewind magic in DAT.
"......"
In that moment, something like déjà vu flashed through Regin's mind.
"Have I talked about this with someone...?"
That you can't rewind time here... and someone laughed.
Racking his brain for a while, Regin shook his head.
'Get out first.'
Not the time for stray thoughts.
Priority was linking up with Greg and Celia waiting outside.
No clue how long they'd been waiting.
"......!"
Stepping out, chills ran down Regin's spine.
Ominous mana from beyond the light door.
No hesitation—he bolted out.
No way that mana was Greg or Celia's.
"...Greg, Celia!!"
The moment Regin shouted their names.
"What got you fighting so desperately?"
A man's low, mocking voice rang out.
"Looks like another comrade. You the leader?"
Killing intent filled Regin's eyes.
"No need to keep these two alive then. I'll just ask you."
The man grinned viciously, flexing his hand.
Dangling from his fingertips: Greg, limp and drained of strength.
"...Greg!!"
Celia lay collapsed far off against the wall.
* * *
Whumm—
Mana gathered in the man's hand.
'Celia's out cold. Greg's barely breathing, gripped in the man's hand.'
Regin assessed quickly.
If they went down like that, the opponent's level was obvious without looking.
Figure out their conditions fully, then plan countermeasures.
'Fighter-class job.'
A brawler who enhanced their body with mana and fought with raw strength crossed his mind.
Bruises and blood on Celia. Fine scratches on Greg's armor confirmed it.
Rip—
No hesitation, he tore a scroll.
"Flame Ball."
A targetable Flame Ball.
Mana ignited, flying toward the man's hand.
'Save Greg first.'
Fighter-class meant defense and attacks all with hands.
Holding Greg in one hand wouldn't be easy.
"Hmph."
The man snorted, swatting the Flame Ball with his other hand.
"Cute. Kids these days climb the Tower with this level of skill?"
The hand that deflected it was unscratched.
Body reinforced with mana surpassing Regin's output.
"Tear it, Greg."
Rip—
But he'd never planned a direct hit from the start.
Might land, but it'd hurt Greg too.
Goal was prying Greg from his grip.
Sss—
Still conscious, Greg tore his scroll.
His body slipped from the man's grasp like a ghost.
The man reached in panic, but Greg was already phasing.
"Ghosting Scroll?"
"......"
"Even cuter brats than I thought."
Greg seized the opening, rolling to Regin's side.
Thud!
Armor hit the floor, but hope flickered in his eyes.
"...Re-Regin!!"
"...What happened."
"Long story, but that guy—"
Greg rose, glaring at the man.
"He's not human."
Trembling voice continued.
"Probably... a demonkin."
Even saying it, he half-doubted... Demonkin, of all things.
A race wiped out when the Tower appeared.
The kingdom obsessively blocked their revival.
Eight years ago, at signs of demonkin revival, they hunted the witch and purged all involved.
"Hard to believe, but..."
"No, he's demonkin alright."
Regin nodded.
"Anything less couldn't scratch Greg's armor."
Coated in precious black mana stones.
Even a strong mana-infused fighter couldn't damage it.
...Yet scratches on that armor.
'Didn't expect demonkin this soon.'
Regin's heart pounded.
Tough opponent right now.
Knew it'd happen eventually, but not this soon.
'Right now, definitely...'
Cold sweat poured as info fragments raced through his mind.
Then, he inhaled calmly.
Recalling why such a being appeared now, and countering it.
"...We can take him."
"......"
"He's half-baked."
Regin's eyes regained composure.
"We've got a shot."
Pretty good odds, he thought, issuing the order.
"We're getting out alive."
* * *
Boom!
Regin's Lightning Spear tore through the air.
Clumsy mana weave compared to high-grade scrolls, but no better one-shot.
"...Half-baked?"
The demonkin blocked with both hands, glaring.
Regin dashed with Greg toward Celia.
Watching him, the demonkin spoke.
"How'd you know?"
Swoosh—
Legs halted before the door, where Celia lay.
"Know about demonkin?"
The demonkin blocked his path, unseen until now.
'...Didn't even see him move.'
Faster than the speed Alfredo’s shoes showed Greg.
One light leg motion outpaced them both.
"Asking again."
Mana gathered in his leg as he glared.
"Who? Who spilled our info?"
"...Hup!"
Boom!!
Barely dodged.
Head-height kick—if unforeseen, might've crushed him like that wall.
"You're a mage... Carlos? Yeah, that old man's into spellcraft."
Boom!!
Follow-up blocked by Greg throwing himself in.
"Urgh...!"
Armor saved him from fatal, but shock was heavy. Blood sprayed from Greg's mouth.
"Come to think, this dwarf too..."
Demonkin's gaze shifted to Greg.
"Similar to old Debont's swordsmanship."
"......!!"
"Guess you do know something. Those Serpa bastards..."
Greg's eyes bulged.
Long ago on 5th Floor, the one who taught him basics then left: Debont.
'...As expected.'
Regin was a bit surprised too.
'Knows Serpa.'
Confirmed his guess: linked to the underworld group.
'Kingdom's hunting top criminals.'
Those ignoring Tower rules, using their own routes up and down.
Handling black magic too, making them kingdom targets.
Their collective: the underworld org Serpa.
'But not just Serpa.'
Swoosh—
Backing away, Regin eyed the demonkin.
"Verdante."
"...Hm?"
"I know about Verdante."
Years back, debate in Serpa birthed a new group.
Regin was sure this demonkin belonged there.
"How's Ignia doing?"
Spilling info, he slowly retreated.
"...The hell, you."
Demonkin's mana in hands and legs eased off mid-attack.
Blinking, he stared at Regin.
"How do you know that?"
The figure Regin once asked info broker Jack about: Olivian Ignia, the witch vanished by the kingdom eight years ago.
Who knew it'd come in handy.
"Know her personally."
Not a lie.
Familiar through the game.
"Admired her once."
From another user. Plenty loved game characters.
"......"
Enough to buy time.
"Ignia's beauty is unmatched."
Demonkin smirked, nodding.
Seemed to hit home.
'...6 seconds.'
Counting silently.
"Then no choice."
"......"
"Gotta take you to Ignia. Pick one of you three to drag alive."
No more standoff—he gathered mana in his hand.
"10 seconds. Choose."
"......"
"Tough call, but..."
"...3 seconds."
"Huh? Said 10."
"...1 second."
Demonkin tilted his head, confused.
"My countdown's done, asshole."
Sss—
Cold sensation from the portrait beside Regin.
A third power, not mana, emanated as something emerged from within.
'The portrait I avoided to not wake by accident.'
Mark below it from Regin.
What these carefully dodged portraits shared...
Souls of beings impossible to fight now.
"You'll have to fight hard. It's a ghost, but dragonkin."
Demonkin glared fiercely.
"Demonkin and dragonkin never got along, right?"
In this space, the ghost's first target was set.