The Magic Tower Branch
"Let's head back to the tenth floor to rest first, and we can tackle the twelfth floor tomorrow." Lee Suyoung looked quite exhausted. And no wonder—it was only this morning that they had been chased by a horde of goblins in the forest outside the city. Although their actual combat time on the eleventh floor hadn't been that long, sprinting desperately through the dense woods was bound to take a toll.
As for me, a brief session of circulating my Qi through meditation would easily restore my stamina, but I also needed to wash my blood-stained combat suit.
"Sure. Let's head back to the tenth floor."
Suyoung and I placed our hands on the return crystal and warped back to the safe zone.
Upon returning to the tenth floor, Lee Suyoung parted ways with Han Jiwoo and collapsed onto the sofa in her room at the Association-affiliated inn. She desperately wanted to throw herself onto the bed, but she couldn't bring herself to do so without washing up first.
"Ugh, I'm exhausted. Ah... time to wash up."
Suyoung stripped off her clothes, stepped into the attached shower room, and let the warm water wash over her. In the cheaper inns, rooms either lacked private bathrooms entirely or had cramped, combined spaces. The more expensive establishments, however, offered spacious rooms with separate toilets and shower stalls.
Of course, such luxury came at a steep price—1,200 credits a night, which was roughly equivalent to 120,000 won. But for a climber, that was a sum easily covered by hunting just one or two horned rabbits outside the city.
As the warm water melted away her fatigue, a bright smile spread across her face.
"Ah, I'm so glad I found a good party member."
At first, she had been filled with dread, wondering how on earth she was supposed to climb the Tower with nothing but weak slimes. Meeting a reliable partner like Han Jiwoo had washed all those anxieties away. He had saved her from danger without any ulterior motives, and his combat prowess was exceptional. Above all, she admired his quick wit—sending her and the escort target, Millio, across the suspension bridge first to ensure their safety before cutting the ropes and leaping across the valley himself.
That was why, even when she laid eyes on an ability stone—the first she had ever seen since entering the Tower—she hadn't let greed get the better of her and had willingly yielded it to him. She didn't want to jeopardize a precious partnership just for a single stone, especially when she was a summoner who only commanded weak slimes.
Yet, Jiwoo hadn't simply pocketed the rare treasure. He insisted on distributing the rewards fairly based on their contributions and had even consulted her on their future plans.
Having heard countless stories from her mother—a WPTO employee who frequently mediated disputes among hunters—about parties tearing themselves apart over greed, Suyoung knew all too well how rare it was to find someone fair and righteous. Finding a reliable, honest partner was infinitely harder than finding someone who was merely skilled. In that regard, she considered herself incredibly fortunate.
"Alright. Now I just need to make sure I do my part."
Unlike the night before, she felt she would finally be able to get a peaceful night's sleep.
After returning to the tenth floor, I immediately went to secure lodging. Suyoung seemed to have booked a room for a long-term stay at a ridiculously expensive inn. 1,200 credits? Was that a hotel suite? Back on Earth, a decent hotel room might cost around 180,000 won a night, but even if climbers made good money, spending that much just to sleep when we weren't even on vacation seemed absurd to me.
Instead, I booked a room for 600 credits at an inn slightly further down the street. Compared to Suyoung's place, it was undoubtedly smaller, and the shower and toilet weren't separated, but it was more than comfortable enough for my needs.
Once inside, I bought a basin and some specialized detergent designed for removing bloodstains, then soaked my combat suit in cold water. Fortunately, thanks to the protective coating on the exterior of the suit, the blood washed out easily. A few faint stains remained on the uncoated joint areas, but since the suit was black, they were barely noticeable.
After washing and hanging the suit to dry, I sat down to circulate my Qi. My stamina recovered in no time.
Martial arts really are incredibly convenient.
There was still plenty of daylight left. It was a bit too late to head back outside the city for another hunt, but it was the perfect time to pay a visit to the Magic Tower branch the Old Librarian had recommended. Conveniently, it was located right near my inn, so I quickly threw on some clean clothes and headed out.
The Magic Tower branch was deserted. While the magic supply shop directly across the street was bustling with about twenty customers despite the late hour, there wasn't a single soul inside the branch. In fact, it was hard to tell if the building was even associated with the Magic Tower at all. The only indicator was a tiny wooden sign hanging outside with a crude drawing of a staff.
The interior was a vast, empty space, save for a reception desk where a middle-aged man was dozing off. There were no books, no potions, and not even a single magic staff in sight. It seemed the supply shop across the street didn't sell actual magic tools either, focusing instead on catalysts and raw materials used in spellcasting.
Just as some climbers received martial arts as innate abilities, there were bound to be those who received magic in the same manner.
As I approached the desk, the middle-aged mage sensed my presence. Wiping the drool from his chin, he blinked sleepily and looked up at me.
"The magic shop is across the street, kid. This is just a supply warehouse."
"Isn't this the Magic Tower branch?"
At my question, the middle-aged man glared at me, looking startled. "No, it isn't."
"Really? Hmm, I was told it was here."
"And who exactly told you this was the Magic Tower branch?"
"The Old Librarian at the library."
The middle-aged man muttered, "The Librarian...?" under his breath. Then, as if a bolt of lightning had struck him, his eyes went wide and he scrambled to his feet.
Clatter!
His chair knocked over backward with a loud crash, but he didn't pay it any mind.
"You aren't lying to me, are you?! If you're lying, you'd better be prepared for the consequences!"
"I'm not lying. But who is he that you're reacting like this?"
The middle-aged man's face turned pale. "If he didn't tell you himself, then I have no right to tell you either."
I was baffled by his extreme reaction, but the man paid no attention to my confusion.
"Tell me. How did you meet him? And why did he tell you to come to the Magic Tower?"
I gave him a vague summary of our encounter, carefully omitting the details of our conversation and the fact that I had received an ability stone from him.
As he listened, the middle-aged man's eyes burned with an intense, suffocating jealousy.
"...He really said that you... that you have a talent for magic?"
"I think he was just being polite. He said it would take me a thousand years to master it, so I doubt I have much talent..."
I couldn't even finish my sentence under the sheer weight of his glaring envy. Feeling a sudden prickle of apprehension, I quickly added, "I'm a climber, by the way. You do know that if a First Settler commits a crime against a climber in the common safe zones, the Tower's Emissaries will hunt them down, right?"
"I know. If not for that, I wouldn't have been able to control myself."
Damn, his expression is terrifying.
"...That old man."
"How dare you refer to him so casually!"
"Uh... right. Who is he that you're reacting like this?"
The man rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a dry sigh. "As I said, if he didn't tell you, I have no reason to. In fact, it is forbidden for me to speak of it."
He looked so solemn, almost as if he were offering a silent prayer, that I couldn't help but find it absurd. After taking a deep, stabilizing breath, the middle-aged mage looked at me with a pleading expression.
"Could you show me the Magic Bullet he taught you?"
Seeing no harm in it, I quietly gathered my mana and fired a Magic Bullet into the empty air.
The middle-aged man stared at the projectile, his eyes tracking its trajectory with absolute focus. Whatever he saw within that simple spell, it was enough to make him burst into tears of utter despair.
"Ah... with my pathetic talent, I can barely comprehend the profound truths woven into this! Heavens! Why did you curse me with such miserable talent?!"
"Is there really that much meaning in a simple Magic Bullet?"
The middle-aged man looked at me as if I were utterly clueless, his gaze a volatile mix of burning jealousy and profound, inexplicable awe.
"Treasure that Magic Bullet. A mere commoner like myself can barely hope to decipher a fraction of its surface. The spell you have learned is nothing short of a great grimoire containing supreme, ancient knowledge."
Is this guy out of his mind? It's just a Magic Bullet. What do you mean, a grimoire?
I stared at him as if he had completely lost his marbles, but the man ignored my gaze entirely. He sat cross-legged on the floor and closed his eyes, entering a state of deep meditation.
After sitting in absolute silence for about twenty minutes, he spoke without opening his eyes.
"They say that if a man hears the Truth in the morning, he may die content in the evening. I could die right now without a single regret. Though I was not blessed with a magnificent talent like yours, I have walked the path of magic a little longer than you. I should be able to offer you at least a firefly's worth of guidance. I am deeply grateful to repay even a fraction of the immense grace I have received."
With those words, the middle-aged man opened a hidden trapdoor in the floor, pulled out a few dusty volumes, and handed them to me.
"These are an introductory magic book and a few spellbooks suitable for the lower floors. I will demonstrate the basics. With your talent, self-study should be more than enough for you to master them."
After handing over the books, the middle-aged mage began to channel his mana, demonstrating the flow of magic circuits and casting several basic spells.
He conjured a small flame. He materialized water out of thin air. He summoned a gentle breeze. He made the earth rise. He generated sparks of electricity. He created a flash of light. Finally, he shrouded the immediate area in darkness.
Watching him cast, I realized that the movement of his mana was infinitely simpler and cruder than the Magic Bullet the Old Librarian had showed me.
"Uh... like this?"
I mimicked the flow of his mana, and a tiny, flickering flame—no larger than a candle's—appeared at the tip of my finger.
So these are more basic than the Magic Bullet? Why on earth did the Librarian teach me something so incredibly difficult first?
I easily replicated the other spells one after another. As he watched me, the middle-aged man's eyes flared once more with a volatile, agonizing jealousy.
"Urgh...! Congratulations on... entering 1 Class."
Geez, compared to the spells you just cast, mine are barely strong enough to act as a lighter. Why are you looking at me like that?
The spells he had demonstrated were genuinely powerful, whereas mine were barely functional. Of course, if I channeled more mana into them, they would probably pack a decent punch, but my current mana pool was simply too small. I needed to find a way to expand my capacity.
Still, it was fascinating to realize that I could cast magic without needing a separate method to accumulate mana. I flipped through the introductory book and noticed a section detailing a mana cultivation method.
Hmm... I don't think I really need to learn this. Qi and mana are essentially the same fundamental energy, so my current cultivation should suffice.
"Um, please don't look at me like that. It's a bit creepy. The Librarian... I mean, the gentleman at the library said it would take me a thousand years to master magic, so I'm really not that talented."
At my words, the middle-aged man's face contorted as if he had been subjected to the most egregious, insulting mockery. His body suddenly twisted in a bizarre, unnatural spasm.
"Cough!"
He violently spat a mouthful of dark blood. He writhed in agony, his eyes bloodshot as if he were on the verge of a full-blown Qi Deviation, before he barely managed to suppress his rampaging mana and steady his breathing.
Holy crap, that was terrifying. He looked like a vengeful spirit straight out of a horror movie.
"*Pant, pant!*"
After taking several ragged, deep breaths, the middle-aged mage finally calmed down and spoke.
"The definition of 'mastery' differs from person to person. For a commoner like me, mastery simply means being able to travel freely anywhere in this land, this world, without restriction. To roam the areas you climbers call the thirtieth floors, or the common safe zones, at will. In that sense, it is fair to say I have achieved mastery."
The tenth floor was connected to the twentieth and thirtieth floors. Since he was a First Settler, he faced no restrictions in traveling between them. Given his confidence, his strength was likely more than enough to allow him to cross over into the middle floors starting from the fortieth floor.
"It takes ordinary mages thirty to forty years of grueling effort to reach my level of mastery. But to the esteemed figure you met, my lifetime of achievement is utterly trivial. To him, 'mastery' likely means reaching the very summit, the absolute end of this Tower. Or perhaps... transcending the Tower itself."
The middle-aged man let out a long, heavy sigh.
"I envy you. I envy you more than words can express. To reach such a supreme, transcendent realm in a mere thousand years... when there are those who cannot hope to reach it in ten thousand, or even a hundred million years, scattered like worthless grains of sand in a vast desert."
Watching him, a single thought crossed my mind.
Qi Deviation really is a terrifying thing. This guy has completely lost his mind.