Floor 8: War, Peace, and the Thief (1)

Thankfully, Ha Heijeong had been right.

Eating the bear gallbladder hadn't changed my appearance at all.

All that worrying—whether my skin would turn brown like the old man's or my eyes would start gleaming differently—felt silly now.

It was just a feeling of overflowing strength in my body.

I'd spent my sponsorship stake, and my stats had dropped a lot as a result. The numbers in parentheses next to each stat were probably showing the reduction. But eating the bear gallbladder seemed to have restored some of it. I'm no mathematician, but if I worked it out...

Looks like about 5% got restored?

Or not? I never memorized my stats, so I couldn't say for sure. The status window was always available anyway—no reason to carry the numbers around in my head. Well, let's call it 5%. A gain is a gain.

That left 15% to claw back to my original stats. 5% on Floor 8, 5% on Floor 9, 5% on Floor 10. Even the simplest math gave me three floors. Supposedly there'd be no combat on Floors 8 and 10, so I'd just have to make up the difference on Floor 9. With 5% recovering per floor, plus whatever gains I'd pick up along the way...

By the end of Floor 9 or somewhere on Floor 10, I'd have surpassed my old stats entirely.

And I gained a skill called Bear Blood, too.

It had even started at level 7. The Seraph elixir hadn't been anywhere near this potent—seeing an item this good made me wonder... Could that bear have actually been my ancestor after all?

Obviously not, though.

Honestly, I had no idea what Bear Blood actually did as a skill. All I knew was that strength kept pouring out of me. It felt like I could exert more power than the status window's numbers suggested.

I'd asked on the off chance the old man might know, but he couldn't give me a clear answer either. Well, it wasn't a bad thing, so no point fussing over it. Strength overflowing your body is a good problem to have.

And that opinion changed the moment I picked up the double-bladed axe.

“Huh?”

That flash of shimmer I'd seen when the old man gripped his sword—I felt the same thing the instant my hand closed around the axe haft. For a split second, black light had rippled across the blade. I was sure of it.

And the axe felt subtly lighter than before I'd eaten the gallbladder. Not lighter in weight, exactly... how should I put it? Like it fit my body perfectly. On top of that, the strength already surging from Bear Blood felt even greater.

The old man's sword did have that in its description.

It had clearly said the blade revealed its true worth in the hands of a king. But the axe's description said nothing like that?

I wondered if I'd misread it, but searching again turned up nothing of the sort. Just "the Bear King's grudge lingers within it." That was all.

Could the Bear King's grudge be manifesting through Bear Blood? That seemed overwhelmingly likely. The axe's feel before and after eating the gallbladder was like night and day. The old man had likewise brought out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his sword's true worth thanks to the tiger blood.

Hmm... this Bear Blood skill. So it wasn't just good. It was very good.

I hadn't fought yet, so I didn't know if the axe truly suited me. But the synergy between Bear Blood and the axe was considerable. Whenever I wielded this axe, it felt like I could draw on the strength I'd had before my stats were capped.

At this rate, having 20% of my stats sealed isn't going to be much of a problem at all, is it?

I gave the axe a few test swings. The waiting room being as small as it was, this kicked off a minor commotion—Dobby shrieking and scurrying into a corner. But the more I swung, the more satisfied I became.

This would do. I played with the axe a little longer, then threw myself onto the bed.

Come to think of it, the community...

I'd posted on the community around the time the climbers who'd cleared Floor 7 started appearing. A summary of the sponsorship system. Of course, since everyone else had heard the same information, it didn't get the response a proper strategy guide would have. Still, I'd gotten replies like "Thanks for organizing this," and "Appreciate the summary." Not bad. Every one of those reactions was a gain for me, so I was satisfied. It was just image management, after all.

Checking the community again, it was bustling with the climbers who'd come back from Floor 7. No—bustling wasn't the right word. It was pure pandemonium. Gratitude for strategy guides, infighting between party members, questions about the sponsorship system.

Yeah. Chaos incarnate.

I closed the community again. I'd been hoping for serious analysis or theories about the sponsorship system... I could probably dig something up if I scrolled far enough, but I couldn't stomach looking at this mess a second longer. They'd hash it out among themselves eventually, and useful ideas would surface sooner or later. I'd check next time.

I have to go up to Floor 8 soon anyway.

Finally! I was going up to Floor 8. This round, one lesson had been hammered home for me: waiting indefinitely in the waiting room is not something a human being should have to do.

There was precious little to do in that cramped space. It wasn't big enough to exercise comfortably, and there was no entertainment to pass the time with. Party-chat banter lasted only so long—after a little chatter, topics ran dry fast. Most climbers were still on Floor 7, so the community had nothing worth reading either.

I was lucky to have Dobby, but even he played with me for an hour or two, complained he was tired, and conked out. If only there'd been a party waiting room...

So this is what they felt like.

I could finally understand a little of what the people cursing me on Floor 5 had gone through. And they'd had to wait because of me alone—how irritated must they have been? Now that I knew the feeling, something in me had softened. I needed to find a way to pass the time on my own, and fast.

Because I'm rank one.

This was bound to keep happening. Our party would keep taking the earliest available ascents from here on out. With Ha Heijeong and me, we ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could clear floors without much trouble. And if the next floor required everyone to be mobilized at once...

Then I'll be waiting indefinitely again.

I needed a solution, and soon. Replaying battles and mulling over growth paths could only fill so many hours. Well, I'd think it over slowly. Worst case, I could always ask Ha Heijeong. She'd spent so long in the Tower—she was bound to have plenty of know-how about killing time in the waiting room.

All right. Time to move to Floor 8.

Along with the notification, my vision brightened. The place I stood in was the circular arena I'd seen from the boss room.

Dobby... wasn't with me. He was probably sprawled on the bed, fast asleep again. Lucky bastard. My stomach twinged with envy.

No. Now wasn't the time for that. Focus. I was on Floor 8.

At the twelve o'clock position stood a tall blonde woman. At nine o'clock, at the arena's edge, sat my double-bladed axe; at three o'clock, hers. As it happened, we wielded the exact same weapon.

Hold on. Leaderboard rank three, Alexei Braham?

Even after our party cleared the hidden mission, this was the climber still holding rank three on the leaderboard. She, too, must have cleared a hidden mission somewhere—that much was certain.

Something doesn't match up, though...

Going by the name alone, I'd assumed she'd be a musclebound giant of a man pushing a hundred and ninety centimeters. In person, she was quite tall, but not particularly bulky—a young woman. Not that I was dismissing her for being a woman; the name and the face simply didn't fit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠together at all. Alexei Braham was unmistakably a man's name. And a massive double-bladed axe, no less. However I turned it over in my head, nothing matched.

Anyway, setting that aside.

Floor 8. The notification had droned through a long, convoluted explanation. But there was no need for complicated deliberation here. For people of roughly equal strength, this would be a floor that demanded careful thinking. It didn't apply to me. I was strong.

From a strong man's perspective, the rules were simple. All I had to do was suggest that I would absolutely choose Plunder.

Leaderboard rank three?

We hadn't crossed blades, but I was confident I could turn her into a pulp within ten seconds. Who on earth would gamble with their own life? Even if she died, all I'd lose was two skills. Unless she was insane, she'd never make that choice.

“Nice to meet you!”

Russian, was it? The Tower's translation rendered it automatically, but it really sounded like she was saying "Spasibo!"

“Hello? You're Russian?”

“I am. Are you Korean?”

Well, that figured. Now her carrying a double-bladed axe made sense. Sure, a Russian—could be. The so-called bear country. People who drank vodka instead of water, or wrestled bears bare-handed. Folks ordinary common sense simply didn't apply to. I'd seen the bizarre antics of Russians on the internet before.

“Yep, that's me.”

“I wanted to meet you. So this is what rank one is like.”

What is rank one like, exactly? Her tone was hard to read—I couldn't tell whether she meant it well or not. Enough. Small talk ended here. Let's finish Floor 8 and move up.

First, I had to convince her to choose Preserve if she didn't want to die. How do I persuade her? Considering my image, bluntly crushing her with force wasn't ideal. Better to explain the gap in power between us first, right? Then delicately propose the alternative—she couldn't beat me anyway. And that because I couldn't trust her, I had no choice but to choose Plunder.

“Excuse me, friend...”

“I'm choosing Plunder!”

Huh? What? Plunder? She's choosing Plunder? I take back everything I was just thinking. I never imagined a lunatic like this existed. And yet—here she was, standing right in front of me.

Had she lost her mind? No—more likely she simply didn't yet understand the difference in power between us. Maybe she thought she had a fighting chance.

Time to explain, kindly.

“Look, friend, my Strength stat is—”

“I'm choosing Plunder!”

“No, hold on. Just hear me out—”

“I know you're stronger than me! I'm still choosing Plunder!”

The Russian woman's expression was resolute. She radiated the air of someone who would never, ever back down.

So she really was a lunatic... A sigh escaped me of its own accord.