An Administrator's Contract
The yellow rubber duck quacked in furious indignity.
“A primitive creature like you dares attach conditions? I offer to carry you all the way to the top of the Tower, and you stop at a measly fifty-eighth floor?”
Mu-saeng merely shrugged. The 58th floor was not even uncharted territory.
Geumseong breached the 66th floor not long ago, and Mirae, JK, and Hana are all challenging the 60s right now. There are plenty of people with intel on Floor 58.
At least four Korean guilds had already cleared past it. While such information was monopolized by elite high-rankers, there were undoubtedly climbers who possessed firsthand knowledge.
Someone might have even caught sight of Yerin. No, given the Tower’s spatial structure, maybe that’s wishful thinking? Still…
He lacked the stats and skills to climb the Tower himself—that had not changed. Whether partnering with this bizarre duck would bridge the gap remained an open question. Yet if Yerin was genuinely alive, he could always seek out other avenues, hire top-tier mercenaries, or negotiate with the major guilds. Finding a way through seemingly impossible odds had been his livelihood for thirteen years as a dungeon sherpa.
“Out of the question. I refuse.”
Then the immediate objective was simple: cajole this self-proclaimed administrator into extracting them from their current predicament.
“And why is that out of the question?” Mu-saeng asked, his tone instantly shifting into an affable, businesslike cadence. “It doesn’t make much sense, does it? Why does our esteemed Administrator need to reach the very top of the Tower in the first place? You’re an ‘Administrator,’ aren’t you?”
Confronted by Mu-saeng’s pointed logic, the rubber duck fell into a brooding silence.
Mu-saeng pressed his advantage. “Let’s approach this with common sense, shall we? Reaching the apex of the Tower—where nobody even knows how many floors exist—would be exponentially harder, wouldn't it? Why don’t we just break out of here together, head up to Floor 58, and then… well, you know? You could always find another climber who vibes better with you, Teacher—”
“Damn it all! If that were an option, I would have killed you and moved on already!”
“Ah. So swapping contractors isn't on the table, even outside? Well, regardless! Couldn't we still figure out a workaround once we're out of here?”
The yellow rubber duck glared daggers at Mu-saeng as he prattled on, clacking its yellow bill in mounting irritation. Behind its dark horn-rimmed glasses, its beady eyes flashed with an eerie light.
“…Hehehe. Tell me, human. Do you truly harbor no desire to reach the apex of the Tower?”
Mu-saeng made an exaggerated show of shaking his head. “Nooope. Like I’ve been saying, my only goal is—”
“Liar. What will you do if tragedy strikes again? Powerless as you are, with no strength to protect a single thing?”
Mu-saeng’s mouth snapped shut.
Logically, that was the crux of the matter. Find Joo Yerin. Rescue her. And then? What came after? Mu-saeng was far too pragmatic to ignore the question. In truth, the thought had likely festered in the back of his mind for years—he had simply chosen never to acknowledge it.
“I shall grant you strength, human. In return, you shall lend me your hands.”
Deep within the recesses of his mind, an unspoken ambition stirred. What desire boiled beneath his placid surface was something even Mu-saeng could not fully articulate.
“…The top of the Tower, huh? Is it even possible to climb all the way there? It’s not something you can accomplish just because you made up your mind.”
The rubber duck bobbed its head in a decisive nod.
“Naturally. Because I am with you.”
In that instant, a blinding luminescence surged through the stark, white void. A pitch-black object drifted down before Mu-saeng’s eyes. It was so impossibly dark that it resembled a tear in space itself, fluttering gently like a sheet of fine parchment.
“Sign it. Should you breach our pact, both you and the single thing you hold most dear will be wiped from existence. Automatically.”
“…What are the terms?” Mu-saeng asked evenly.
The rubber duck recited in a solemn drone:
“You shall climb toward the summit of the Tower, stopping at Floor 58. At that juncture, I will commit my full resources to aiding your search for Joo Yerin. And…” It paused, drawing a measured breath before continuing. “…once we reach the apex of the Tower, you will join me in exacting my vengeance.”
Vengeance.
Mu-saeng chose not to pry into that single word; the duck’s demeanor made it abundantly clear that asking would yield no answers anyway.
“And in exchange, you’ll support me?”
“Naturally.”
“With everything you’ve got? No half-measures?”
“…Yes.”
“And both parties are strictly bound to act in mutual good faith to fulfill every clause of this agreement—”
“Kkwak!”
The duck let out an earsplitting squawk of outrage.
Mu-saeng maintained a deadpan, uncompromising stare. “Don’t lose your temper. I spent my entire adult life as a dungeon sherpa. In my line of work, you live by contracts, and you die by contracts.”
This was no game. A contractual bond demanded total clarity.
“Hmph. Good faith, you say…? In all my existence, I have never once witnessed a creature live up to such high-minded words.” The duck stared into Mu-saeng’s eyes, and Mu-saeng held the gaze without a flicker of doubt. “Very well. I shall act in good faith. Provided you do the same…”
“Of course.”
“State your name.”
The being that had overwritten his innate Awakened ability.
The being that had, perhaps, derailed his entire life.
〈Transmit(X)〉.
Yet also the entity capable of carving an isolated sub-space directly out of an active dungeon.
And the sole opportunity he had to take his destiny back into his own hands.
〈Transmit(O)〉.
“Kim Mu-saeng.”
To seal the pact, Mu-saeng spoke his true name.
“Wahsh.”
The duck answered in kind.
◈ Wahsh's Covenant: Escort Kim Mu-saeng to the pinnacle of the Mythic Tower.
◈ Kim Mu-saeng's Covenant: Participate fully in Wahsh's vengeance upon reaching the apex.
◈ Mutual Priority: Prioritize the search and rescue of Joo Yerin on Floor 58.
◈ Binding Principle: Both parties shall execute all terms under absolute good faith.
The voices bearing the resolve of both parties crystallized into radiant script. Across the abyssal black parchment, their names were etched in brilliant, indelible light.
The contract took effect without delay.
〈System Restore〉
Target: Contractor (Kim Mu-saeng)
All physical trauma reverted to the most recent uninjured state.
“……Whoa.”
The deep lacerations across his forearms and thighs vanished as though they had never existed. Even the suffocating, bone-deep exhaustion from trudging through the desert sands washed away in an instant. This was not mere healing; it was literal, temporal restoration.
“This is crazy…”
“That is my good faith in action. Now, let us return.” Wahsh let out a curt, haughty squawk and turned his bill away.
Mu-saeng let out a dry chuckle at the duck's pompous attitude, then paused as a sudden thought struck him. “Oh, right. You said this sub-space is completely isolated from outside time and space, right?”
“What about it?”
“Well, right before I got pulled in here, some giant snake lord was in the middle of swallowing me whole.”
Mu-saeng tossed the remark out casually, as if remarking on a change in the weather. The rubber duck’s tiny black bead eyes blinked once, twice, in rapid succession.
“…Are you fucking kidding me? Hey! Inside my own sub-space it doesn’t matter, but out in the Tower, I can’t just run programming whenever I feel like it! The moment I flex administrative power, the system will flag me immediately!”
“Wait, what? Programming? You mean you can’t use your powers out there?” Mu-saeng’s easygoing smirk vanished. What did he mean, he couldn't use his abilities?
“Damn right, that's what it means!”
“H-Hold on a second! Then what about Yerin earlier? Were you lying to me?” If he couldn't use his powers, how on earth had he extracted data about Joo Yerin on Floor 58?
Wahsh snapped defensively, “I had exactly one free pass! Right after my transmission initiated, my signature hadn't synced to the network, so those bastards in the Tower couldn't detect me. Dammit, this is why I needed the download to hit one hundred percent first—!”
A single, unmonitored window of opportunity—and Wahsh had burned it to pull Yerin's log.
“No, wait, hold on…” Mu-saeng’s mind spun into overdrive. A torrent of questions rushed to the surface, but he clamped down on his panic to verify one fundamental detail first. “Let’s get our facts straight. We are not inside the Tower right now. This is a dungeon.”
“What? A dungeon? What the hell is that?”
Barely fifteen seconds after sealing a soulbound cosmic pact, both contractor and administrator stared at each other in absolute, stunned silence.
Mu-saeng was the first to clear his throat. “Yeah… Wahsh, I think you and I need to have a serious chat.”
The yellow rubber duck gave a hollow, miserable quack in response.
Sraken had coiled his muscular, barbed tongue around the human and dragged him into his maw, sinking venom-dripping fangs deep into flesh.
It is finished.
Just as Sraken prepared to crush the morsel in his gullet, a blinding spark flared within his mouth. It lasted no longer than a heartbeat—so fleeting that the serpent lord could not tell whether he had merely blinked or if the ambient light had flickered.
“Bwooooorgh—?!”
An explosive, violent convulsion erupted from deep within his throat. Overwhelmed by a sudden, violent retching sensation, Sraken gagged and vomited the human onto the desert floor.
“Khhk… huff, huff!”
Sraken’s slit pupils contracted in disbelief.
The human was entirely unharmed. The lethal venom had vanished, his severed flesh was miraculously knit whole, and the light of ferocious battle intent burned in his eyes. More bewildering still was the faint, translucent yellow silhouette hovering just beside his shoulder.
The two of them were already carrying on an exasperated conversation.
“You said dungeons are exact spatial duplicates of the Tower floors, right? And you said this is Dungeon 15?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“Then why in the blazing void am I staring at Floor 66 data?!”
“Wait… what? Which floor did you say?!”
Mu-saeng was genuinely stunned. In all his thirteen years of sherpa work, the deepest he had ever guided was Dungeon 51. He had known the oppressive mana pressure here felt unnervingly heavy, but… the 66th floor?!
As Mu-saeng blinked through his shock, Wahsh grumbled under his breath.
“Hmph. A system bug. A dimensional data collision. Incompetent fools… they can’t even maintain their own infrastructure properly.”
Sraken was equally baffled by the bizarre sight unfolding before him.
“Hiss… How… What is this…? What in the world is that thing beside you?”
How had the prey healed? What was that tiny yellow object? Yet Sraken’s reaction took Wahsh by surprise instead.
“What? A cheap bundle of 66th-floor data can actually perceive me? Tsk, my download synchronization really is lagging. An Administrator’s dignity dragged through the dirt…” Wahsh muttered a stream of indignant quacks, yet an immense, ancient gravity faintly leaked from his tiny frame—an aura that Sraken’s predatory instincts screamed at him not to provoke.
“At any rate, this confirms we are outside the Tower’s core network, Kim Mu-saeng.”
“I told you that already.”
“Good. In an isolated dungeon instance, I can deploy my abilities without triggering central monitoring.”
“Then nail the timing on my mark!”
Mu-saeng exploded forward without a shred of hesitation.
Startled by the human’s reckless charge, Sraken lashed out on pure instinct. His tongue whipped through the air like a streak of lightning, tearing the arid atmosphere as it struck.
“You think I’m falling for the same trick twice?! Wahsh, now!”
Mu-saeng threw himself into a low, dirt-spraying slide directly beneath the incoming strike.
〈Executing with Administrator Authority〉
Target: Sraken (Floor 66 Entity)
Systemic Temporal Deceleration Applied.
Sraken’s towering body seized as the surrounding air turned to molasses.
“K-Khhk?! What is this—!”
More specifically, his massive jaws—wide open from launching his tongue—froze in place, incapable of snapping shut. Wahsh observed the serpent lord's paralysis with a sharp, calculating gleam.
“Even if it’s mere Floor 66 garbage, my current sync rate won’t hold him for long. Execute what we discussed!”
“That's all the time I need!”
Mu-saeng did not stop. His slide had not merely been an evasive maneuver; as his body skimmed across the sand, his fingers hooked into the hilt of his dropped B-rank artifact dagger.
“Y-You insolent vermin—!”
Sraken strained against the invisible temporal binds, sweeping his massive clawed arm downward. Mu-saeng ducked beneath the whistling strike, letting the gust shear the tips of his hair, and channeled every ounce of explosive power into his thighs.
He vaulted upward into the air, his eyes locked onto a single, vulnerable coordinate.
“Even on the 66th floor, a snake’s fatal flaw never changes—the roof of its goddamn mouth!”
“Y-You—!”
Right into Sraken’s paralyzed, gaping maw, straight toward the tender, unprotected flesh above the distended tongue—
“Haaah!”
Mu-saeng drove the B-rank dagger to the hilt and dragged the blade clean across the roof of Sraken’s palate.
“KGYAAAAAAAHHH! Kkh, GYAAAH!”
Sraken’s voice devolved into an agonized shriek. Mu-saeng kicked off the thrashing jaws and threw himself clear, landing lightly on the sand as the serpent lord writhed in torment.
“Krrgh… GYAAAAH—!”
The colossal serpentine boss of the 66th floor convulses violently before its form began to dissolve into shimmering motes of light. Standing at a safe distance, Mu-saeng caught his breath, staring at his blade in quiet awe. A mere B-rank dagger had cleanly carved open a high-floor apex predator because its precise systemic weak point had been laid bare.
“…So this is 〈Executing with Administrator Authority〉.”
Wahsh was looking at Mu-saeng with newfound appraisal.
“You looked like you’d never set foot near the 66th floor, yet you pinpointed the exact deletion vector on your very first strike…?”
His claim that he could take the beast down if Wahsh merely bought him an opening had not been empty bravado. Vast foundational knowledge forged through thirteen years of hard-won experience. The cold, unblinking nerve to dive straight back into the jaws of a monster that had nearly digested him seconds prior. And above all, an innate refusal to rely entirely on an external crutch.
“Not bad,” Wahsh remarked with an approving smirk.
“Not bad at all,” Mu-saeng echoed, flashing a confident grin.
In that moment, the titanic serpent humanoid dissolved completely, leaving behind not a trace of its monstrous silhouette.
This was not the Tower. Clearing this boss yielded no unallocated stat points, nor did any system notification bestow a new skill branch. Yet even inside an unranked dungeon anomaly, one reward was guaranteed.
Clatter…
A heavy metallic rattle echoed across the silent desert. Mu-saeng felt a pleasant shiver race along his spine.
“…An artifact drop.”
Upon the sun-bleached dunes, the spoils of slaying the master of a 66th-floor dungeon glittered with breathtaking radiance.