Floor 15, Waiting Room (2)

About me?

It seemed she meant the fact that my floors played out differently because I'd never chosen a status window. Honestly, I was a little taken aback. It was far more sudden than I'd expected — only days ago she'd said we'd talk about it later.

It had been a performance so outsized that no one could have called it anything but absurd. I had sealed the river with lightning, then descended beneath it alone and held the front line for a full hour. And as the dragon-shaped tidal wave that had crashed down on our enemies made plain, I had even turned the dragon that ruled the battlefield into an ally.

Hmm. She had a point. The community was already plastered wall to wall with praise and adulation for me. They'd have believed me if I'd told them I could brew soybean paste out of red beans. Better to shape the narrative while the climbers still looked on me kindly.

I set to work drafting the statement I would post to the community. I was a little tired, sure, but not so worn out that I'd collapse. Thinking ahead to Floor 15, posting early meant one more person might make it through alive.

The Climbers' Community.

Just as Heijeong and I had discussed, I posted to the community about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my personal floors. I kept it as concise as I could, trimming anything that might invite unnecessary questions. The content boiled down to three main points:

"1. I did not choose the Status Window in the Waiting Room."

"2. Because I didn't choose the Status Window, I can't raise my stats through it — but in exchange, my stats grow in proportion to what I actually do."

"3. My personal floors are harder than other climbers' to a degree that simply cannot be compared."

Shortened like that, it looked simple, but it was anything but. The post hadn't been meant merely to deliver information. I had framed it around the point that I wasn't receiving special treatment — if anything, my burden was heavier. Because I had cleared something harder, I could afford to shine on the comparatively easier group floors. That was the story.

The community's reaction to my statement was explosive — in the best possible sense.

The sentiment toward me was overwhelmingly favorable. With plenty of climbers declaring they'd follow my command on future group floors as well, it was a success by any measure. Good thing I'd listened to Heijeong — I'd posted at the perfect moment. I had explained away my unusual track record and abnormal strength, and won the people's support on top of it.

Good. At this rate, the floors ahead should go smoothly too.

Of course, I had told my party members before posting anything. Having the very people who fought beside you learn the truth after the fact through a community post would hardly be fair — and beyond courtesy, they might have felt hurt. The party members, having heard it from me first, took it far more calmly than the strangers online had.

The old man's offhand remark stung a little. All this time, he'd been quietly taking Heijeong and me for regressors... Sharp as ever. No wonder he devoured so many fantasy novels. Thankfully, my explanation had also cleared Heijeong of any lingering suspicion. Still, I'd have to be more careful going forward. I could always fall back on a precognition-skill excuse now and then, couldn't I?

After sleeping and resting, I had run my combat training. My opponent, same as the previous floor, was the lizardman guardian — with the difficulty raised accordingly, naturally. Even so, it left me feeling it came up a little short. Probably because I'd faced it so many times by now. But that didn't mean I could simply choose a different opponent.

The dragon is a bit much, honestly... Sarkage was far too strong, and Herkest far too weak. Summoning the legion commander was its own gamble — I couldn't be certain just how strong it actually was. As a rule, the enemies that appeared on my personal floors were stronger than those on group floors, and there was no sense spending hard-won points to fight something weaker. Which meant the best opponent available to me right now was the lizardman guardian, full stop.

If only there were a difficulty setting above the upped one.

According to Heijeong, difficulty adjustment wasn't added until somewhere past Floor 20. That was still a long way off. Left with no alternative, I helped Dobby with his training instead. Unlike my early disappointment in him, Dobby kept up with genuine enthusiasm. He's learning faster than I expected. My expectations had probably been inflated back then, thanks to Seo Harin. At the end of it all, Dobby had driven a goblin paladin into a corner all on his own. Perhaps he could feel himself improving too, because he threw himself into the drills with even greater gusto.

Now all that remained was to wait for Floor 15. As always, the old man was busy speculating about the next floor in the party chat. Maybe because he'd actually guessed right a few times before, everyone was a little worked up. The old man especially was dissecting the Tower's messages like some professional profiler.

The old man paused for effect.

Ooh. At this rate, the man ought to set out a mat and read fortunes for a living. Even I found myself wondering just how far he could see into the Tower's trials.

The first thing the brightening view told me was that it was the dead of night. The saving grace was that the moon hung bright to the point of absurdity, its radiant light illuminating the plain where we stood. Above us in the sky, a blue signpost larger and brighter than the moon itself pointed the way ahead of our party.

Oh, for the love of...

And before us stood a statue that looked to be a good nine meters tall. The moment I confirmed where we'd been summoned, a faint sigh rose unbidden in my chest. According to Heijeong, the spot with that statue was the closest summoning point to the fortress among all the places climbers appeared. The average ranking of a party's members, it seemed, influenced where they were sent.

Good news for our party — but for me, with the plans Heijeong and I had made, anything but. I turned my head and found Heijeong wearing a slightly troubled expression of her own. Hah. It wasn't as if I hadn't anticipated this, but with it actually happening, a sigh laced with annoyance slipped out all the same. Things being as they were, we'd simply have to move faster — exactly as promised.

Just then, the old man let out a hearty laugh.

"Aigoo! Hahaha, called it again!"

"Wow, Dad, you're insane. Didn't everything you said turn up? The stronghold race and the party rankings!"

"Th-that's incredible."

Cole stared at the old man in open disbelief, and the old man twisted his lips upward into a grin, the very picture of pride. If even I — who had already known what the next floor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠held — was startled, I could only imagine how the rest of them felt. As always, under the old man's sly direction, the party's mood began to lighten.

But this time, there was no room for idle chatter. I cut across the conversation and spoke.

"Go on ahead. I'll be moving separately."