Chapter 63
Chapter 63
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: Tower of Tarros (4)
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“━Kieeeek!!”
━Shing.
The grotesque monster with a goat's head and a locust's body collapsed with a short death cry.
“Ugh... This thing is disgusting every time I see it.”
A goat's head on a locust's body, and the size of an elephant.
This creature, named Goatlocust for its appearance, was a tricky B-rank monster.
Even ordinary adventuring parties struggled against it.
But right now, it lay bisected by my sharply honed blade.
“Let's see... Its carapace should make good armor material...”
I had no intention of eating something with a goat head and an insect body, so I just harvested the useful materials.
It had already been ten months and twelve days since I arrived here.
The outside world had about a day left, while I still had a month and a half.
“It has to be here this time.”
I still hadn't found the key.
This place, the Bottom of Tarros's Tower, had a layout that changed every time you entered, even in the game.
So memorizing the key's location was useless—I had to search everywhere manually.
Almost a year in, and nothing.
As time dragged on, my anxiety grew, and my mental composure frayed.
To find the key, I had to roam the fields, which meant higher chances of monster encounters.
Frequent battles wore down my body and kept my nerves on edge.
Especially early on, with my low stats and sluggish build, I'd come close to death more than once.
The Calorie Burn skill required food, so overuse spelled trouble—I saved it for true emergencies.
'At least it's no issue now.'
I finished gathering materials and gazed down at the Goatlocust's cold corpse.
A monster I could never have taken alone under normal circumstances.
But now, I felled it solo without even using Calorie Burn.
This brutal environment had slimmed me down a lot over ten months.
⚔ STATUS ⚔ 📏 Height: 175 cm ⚖️ Weight: 72 kg I'd only clung to life in dire situations.
The key to dieting?
Diet itself.
“No wonder training alone didn't cut it when I kept stuffing my face.”
I'd thought moving would burn the fat.
Siegfried's brutal sessions shed some weight, but not enough.
Stuck in this hell, choking down tasteless monster meat, my portions naturally shrank.
And just like that, diet success.
“Ahh... I miss Rafne's cooking.”
But the joy of success was muted.
Higher survival odds in deadly spots was great, sure.
Still, I wanted out of this shit hole to eat something good.
Rafne's warm meals, especially.
“...Hoo, let's see.”
I followed my usual scouting routine: climb the highest point in uncharted territory.
Survey the terrain, memorize it.
Scan for the building likely holding the key.
If none in sight, head to the nearest high ground and resume searching.
“No way I missed it in a spot I already checked...?”
I muttered while marking my handmade map with my improvised pencil.
The nagging fear of overlooking it haunted me.
With time running critically short, my unease swelled.
If I left without the key?
Then what?
Come back in?
“I'd really hate that...”
Like re-enlisting in the army.
Worse, honestly—a deeper despair.
I'd finished my service as a private first class; I knew that place sucked.
At least there were people.
Here, the environment was hell, but the real killer was the isolation—no one to talk to.
Humans are weakest to loneliness.
“...How the hell did Rafne endure it?”
I suddenly recalled first meeting her.
Her pure joy at seeing me.
Back then, I'd wondered inwardly if it was that big a deal.
Now I got it.
Unlike me, with hope of exit in a year.
She'd fought endless solitude.
“When I get out, I'll stuff myself with good food and tell her everything.”
I missed the outside crew.
Rafne most of all.
So much to say, apologies too.
'She's doing fine, right...?'
Deciding to trap myself here, I'd worried about her plenty.
But I trusted her improved state.
She'd just bawled in her room for a week after I died—no real trouble.
She'd be okay this time too.
“...Hoo, alright, that way next...”
I wrapped up my brief rest atop the peak, catching the breeze.
Then.
Something familiar flickered in my peripheral vision.
“...No way.”
I whipped my head around, focusing intently.
Far off, tiny.
“Found it.”
The building I'd sought since arriving.
“I found it━!!”
Grinning with joy, I marked the map and bolted down the mountain.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ ━Rustle.
I peeked out from the creepy purple underbrush.
'Exactly like in the game.'
A worn, small brick house.
A rare trace of human life in this hellscape.
Players speculated it was built by someone who arrived before Emily.
'Which means... it's probably inside?'
The sole NPC in the Bottom of Tarros's Tower.
Ego Sword Tirphione.
“Dealing with a nasty personality's gonna suck...”
The key was in that house.
Crucial part: you needed decent favor with Tirphione to get it.
Tirphione ranked among the toughest Academy of Epiris NPCs for raising favor.
Snowy long white hair, porcelain skin.
Sharp, glowing yellow eyes.
True to her sword nature, she showed zero emotion, always ice-cold no matter what Emily did.
So challengers stocked up on favor-boosting items.
'But those are tough to get right now...'
Still, I'd cleared her a few times.
Not Emily anymore, but with time left, I'd manage.
“Alright, let's go.”
Tense, I rose and crept toward the house.
Brick and wood build, single room—tiny.
Even that was battered: holes in walls and ceiling from time's toll.
Door held up fine, though.
Deep breath before the firmly shut wooden door.
━Creak.
I eased it open carefully.
“Ex, excuse me...”
Emily's game avatar would've barged in, yapping away—but this was real life.
Common courtesy said knock, at least.
So I opened slow and soft, not to startle the owner.
Inside: sparse.
Cold brick hearth, small shelf, single chair, lone bed.
'There it is.'
A sword hung on the wall— the only ornate thing amid the decay.
Rust and dust from age marred it too.
And finally.
Center of the room.
A demure woman on the small chair, head bowed.
Ego Sword Tirphione.
“Um, excuse...”
I'd entered, but she stayed bowed, unresponsive—so I spoke softly.
━Rustle.
Only then did she stir slowly.
White hair cascaded from her shoulders, revealing her pale face.
Closed eyes fluttered open.
The slumbering sword spirit gazed at me.
Just like the game: cold, emotionless eyes.
They locked on me.
“Uh, well... Haha, I got lost and came in.”
I rattled off my prepared excuse.
Even a flimsy one might soften her sharp, frosty judgment on trespassing.
'Ugh, that gaze is terrifying... Huh?'
Eye contact with Tirphione.
Infamous in the Academy of Epiris for low favor gains.
Long-dormant sword spirit: emotionless, coldly rational.
So I'd braced tense.
But...
'...What?'
Our eyes met, and hers quivered.
“......Ho.”
“......Ho?”
Her face flushed apple-red, brows curved in a happy 'eight' shape, mouth agape softly.
Hand rose shyly to hide the undignified expression—but halted at her chin, gaze stolen.
Then, her first sound.
“Hoeeeeek...!”
A voice unimaginable from the icy sword spirit.