Floor 14: The Waiting Room (1)

Let's see—I was pretty sure I'd killed at least a few thousand of those bugs, but…

The growth in my stats had been slower than I'd hoped. It wasn't so much that the insects had been weak; it felt more like my stats were already so far above theirs that the gains had slowed to a crawl.

Then again, Strength and Agility had already crossed 100, and Constitution was about to follow, so it made sense. I couldn't recall the exact numbers, but while my Magic had climbed nearly three points, Strength, Agility, and Constitution had each risen only about one.

The one consolation was that a few of my skill levels had edged up. Poison Resistance and Fire Resistance had leveled, and I'd gained a brand-new skill: Ice Resistance. For something I'd only just acquired, it was already at level 3. It seemed chugging that poison tea hadn't been a total waste after all.

But why did Bear Blood go up?

That skill responded to my axe—and I had no memory of using the axe on Floor 13. Hmm… don't tell me. That strange sensation I'd felt while searching for the Insect Queen's key… was that Bear Blood?

It had to be. Nothing else explained it.

Well, fair enough—bears raid beehives for honey, after all. Winnie the Pooh was a familiar example too. Realizing I'd gotten a boost from Bear Blood in a place I never expected left me feeling a little bemused. I'd assumed it was just a straight strength booster… but if it worked in other ways too, the skill was more versatile than I'd given it credit for.

'Other than that, not much has changed… huh?'

I figured I was done with the status window, and right on cue a message from Ha Heijeong flew in.

Why was she suddenly bringing up the training room? I turned the question over for a moment but couldn't find an answer. Well, I had only used the Essence of Lightning on Floor 13—maybe she was telling me to get some training in.

I hopped up from my chair and headed straight for the training room. Passing by the bathroom, I could hear Dobby humming to himself. If I'd known this would happen, I would've told him to shower later too… well, what was done was done.

The moment I opened the training room door, a notification window popped up before my eyes.

The moment the notification's flat, mechanical voice finished, the thought struck me: the Tower could be downright cruel.

It even tied the training room's upgrades to your ranking. And if I hadn't stepped inside the training room, I'd never have known any of this existed. If I had to guess—and I did—the benefits simply wouldn't be granted unless you entered the training room while in the Floor 14 waiting room.

My hunch had been right, as usual. Sure, the vast majority of climbers in their right mind would use the training room anyway—but when you remembered that Floor 13 had been one long chase sequence against swarms of insects, the calculus changed. Even exhausted and half-dead, if you couldn't push yourself to train, the Tower wouldn't even offer you the chance. That seemed to be how it worked.

Barely had I finished musing when the training room began to transform. The space, once no bigger than a tennis court, expanded rapidly until it was roughly the size of a full sports field.

'Oh, not bad at all.'

There'd be plenty of room to test things out from here on. experimenting with aerial combat using Kashatum's shoes, say, or new ways to leverage the Essence of Lightning…

At the same time, a rack for storing weapons sprang up along one side of the training room, along with all manner of devices and equipment whose purpose I couldn't guess. When I spotted what looked like training weights—a round bracelet of some kind—I figured they must be exercise gear. In any case, the place had changed beyond all recognition.

When the transformation finished, another notification appeared. So it was already enormous, but it could grow even larger. I didn't need that much space right now, but who knew about later? With the Essence of Lightning, a single leap of mine might someday carry me several kilometers.

'Not bad.'

Watching the training room settle into its new, spacious luxury put me in a naturally good mood. I'd been looking around for a while when the notification refreshed again.

Combat training, huh… Not a bad idea, actually. Sure, some people like Cole have exceptional memories. But human memory is fundamentally imperfect. Reliving a past battle inside your own head is one thing; actually doing it again is another. This would let me see, clearly and definitively, everything I'd missed or fallen short on in my previous fights. I wanted to fight that mysterious opponent from Floor 11 again, for one…

The refreshing notification cut the thought short.

Wait—you could die during training? And your equipment could get wrecked on top of that?

'And here I thought it would just show me an illusion of the past…'

I was a little dumbfounded. The notification had clearly called it training. It said you'd be summoning past combat experiences. And yet it could kill you—which meant this wasn't a simple illusion, or even a flawless act of recall.

'Is it actually reenacting the past in reality?'

Then again, with Heijeong having literally regressed through time, nothing in this Tower should have surprised me anymore.

Best to just ask outright. I fired off a message.

Of course I remembered. The goblin paladin, the Seraph Queen, the Beast-Man King, the Skill-Thieving Gremlin… Though I had no idea why she was suddenly bringing up floor bosses.

So Combat Training really was live combat. It wasn't literally dragging the past into the present—but the opponents it summoned were the same individuals. I'd started out excited at the prospect of fighting that mysterious opponent again, but my thinking had shifted a little. I couldn't go in treating it lightly. I'd won, sure, but I'd struggled plenty at first. Even if that had partly been my opponent's bluffing, that's just how combat is—you don't get to size up an enemy's abilities before fighting them.

What I'd learned from facing Karakshi was worth recalling: 'No matter how strong I am, never let my guard down.' Battles aren't won by strength alone. Yes, I was stronger—but that mysterious opponent was firmly on the powerful side of the ledger too. I'd have to take this training seriously.

I'd hold the Essence of Lightning in reserve as much as I could, relying on my raw physical abilities alone. Looked at another way, this was a chance to sharpen my axe work.

But no sooner had I settled my thoughts than another question raised its head. 'How many climbers are actually going to use Combat Training properly?' It was a genuine question.

Combat Training, put simply, meant paying your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠own achievement points to fight for your life. No matter how much your stats and skill levels improved, no matter how much real combat experience you gained—you were spending points for the privilege of possibly dying. And if you settled for some pushover opponent instead, that cost points too, just less of them. Frankly, I was skeptical that Combat Training was worth what it charged. Even without this, word was that half the climbers collapsed from sheer exhaustion every time they cleared a floor. In that state, I doubted most of them would risk their lives on combat training.

'Hmm, no—that's wrong. If you really want to keep your instincts sharp and keep learning, you have to do it.'

Combat Training was necessary. Growth purely by climbing the floors had a ceiling. The insights you gain mid-battle tend to come not in moments of victory, but in moments of defeat—right on the edge of death, in the form of 'Ah, so that's what I shouldn't do.' Rather than stumbling into those humiliating situations by accident, better to learn everything I could from opponents I already knew. My stats and skill levels would inch up, too.

'Plus, the Tower said the difficulty was adjustable…'

The conclusion was clear: within the bounds of not taking reckless risks, Combat Training was a must. I couldn't afford to think only of the present. To climb the Tower, I had to keep getting better. Yes, it cost achievement points—but in the end, points mattered less than staying alive.

'It's ironic, but to develop real combat instincts, you have to fight real battles.'

Because if you're dead, you can't spend the points anyway. Eventually the other climbers would figure this out too. The ones with ambition would make aggressive use of Combat Training. Of course, some would get winnowed out along the way…

Yeah—I needed to organize these thoughts and post them to the community. Share the intel, build some goodwill, and light a fire under the other climbers.

In the middle of drafting the post, the crystal bead I'd picked up on Floor 13 suddenly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠came to mind. I'd tucked it into my biological inventory, and out of sight, out of mind—I'd completely forgotten about it.

'Hmm, what am I supposed to do with this?'

Could I just eat it?

I messaged Heijeong right away.