Proof of Qualification (1)

By all rights, my burning enthusiasm should have carried me straight to the Sage's Robe by now.

In reality, it hadn't.

He had a point.

On the first floor, there had been no spell capable of surpassing Thunderbolt, a 1-Star Mythic-grade magic. But the second floor told a different story.

Mythic-grade from the first floor is only Normal-tier down here.

Granted, that was true only of raw magic damage.

Once you factored in all the secondary effects, the 1-Star Mythic grade was still comfortably superior.

Still, without enough damage, a skill is nothing but a red bean bun with no filling.

Which meant that acquiring a 2-Star skill wasn't optional—it was the single indispensable condition for growing smoothly on this floor.

Anyone born with a silver spoon would simply buy a skill card off the market and set themselves up without breaking a sweat.

A dirt-poor bastard like me had to start from bare ground.

Should I save up money again and purchase a 2-Star Normal spell, like last time?

No.

Fortunately, the Sky Tower was remarkably generous to Ascenders. Just as it had pressed a skill card into their hands on the first floor through a tutorial called the Sacred Ritual, from the second floor onward it granted every climber one skill card at the start of each floor through a process known as the Proof of Qualification.

"Alright. Let's go get a skill, then."

The place where the Proof of Qualification was carried out on the second floor was a vast basin at the foot of a mountain range.

At its center stood an enormous carved statue. The Proof of Qualification was performed through this statue, sculpted in the likeness of the God Tree.

"Come on, give me something good."

"I'd settle for nothing less than Hero grade."

"Ha. Reality won't even give you Advanced."

Everyone gathered there wished for the same thing—a skill of the highest grade they could get.

But the Proof of Qualification made high-grade skills even harder to obtain than the Sacred Ritual had.

Why?

Whereas the Sacred Ritual had simply handed skills out for free, the Proof of Qualification only raised your odds of a good card if you proved your own aptitude.

"Alright! Days like this don't come around every day!"

And so.

Commercial schemes targeting those desperate for any edge in the Proof of Qualification were running rampant.

"Hey, you there—the gentleman with the Hahoe mask! You're heading to the Proof of Qualification, aren't you? Then come right over here and try our element-matched coaching!"

"Coaching?"

I tilted my head at the middle-aged man who had planted himself in my path.

He curled his lips into a grin and whispered his sweet pitch.

"Take one session with us, and the grade you pull at the Proof of Qualification changes completely. The Normal you were going to get becomes Rare, or even Advanced. The Rare you were going to get becomes Hero. Seriously. You'd be a fool to skip it."

Then he casually gestured toward a signboard propped beside him.

The absolute nerve.

I almost cursed out loud before I could stop myself.

What could he possibly teach, and he had the gall to charge a full million won for it?

As far as I knew, the Proof of Qualification didn't care one whit about a few minutes of cram lessons from some stranger.

"Not interested."

As I brushed past him, brows knit, his grumbling drifted after me from behind.

"Tsk tsk. You all saw that, folks? Guy like that's going to get nada. Mark my words, he'll walk out with a plain old Normal grade."

At that, I glanced back over my shoulder.

Indeed, a dozen-odd people sat around the man while some other young fellow lectured them about something.

Ugh… one look and it's obviously a scam.

How does anyone fall for that?

Fwoooosh!

At that moment, one of the figures wrapped in a milky-white membrane nearby began to radiate a sky-blue aura.

Apparently, they'd pulled a Rare-grade skill.

"Hah! You all saw that, didn't you? That Ascender just got a Rare grade—right after our elemental coaching!"

The crowd erupted in cheers. Everyone gathered over there seemed convinced the coaching was what had earned that person a Rare card.

Exactly my point.

Ellaon, too, had seen through the meaninglessness of it all.

So even the Sky Tower has its share of con men.

Dark times. Truly dark times!

I gave my head one good shake, then turned my gaze toward the stone statue ahead, ready for the Proof of Qualification.

Vvvvmmmm!

A sound like a swarm of bees beating their wings filled my ears.

Obviously I did.

The moment I resolved to, the light flared.

Vvvmm!

A film of pure white light settled over my body, and my vision went dark.

There was no code of law in the Sky Tower.

It was a place where power was both order and law. And so countless organizations coexisted within it—factions devoted to justice; others chasing hegemony or private gain; and still others who would stop at nothing, sparing neither blood nor tears, in pursuit of their own interests.

The world called that last kind of organization a villain syndicate.

The most notorious example was Tiamut. In murim fiction, it would be the equivalent of a Demonic Cult or a Blood Sect.

The reason such comparisons worked was simple: the Sky Tower, like the world of murim, was governed by the logic of raw power.

But was the Demonic Cult the only axis of evil in a wuxia world?

No.

Not quite demonic, perhaps, but there were also sects of the unorthodox path—organizations that treated fleecing others for profit as a matter of course.

And the organization known as the Burning Tower, entrenched on the second floor, was one of them.

"Heh heh. Making money really is too easy."

"Everyone up here is desperate, aren't they? Give that desperation a little squeeze, and they hand their coins right over. Haha."

Wang Ochun, boss of the Burning Tower on the second floor, couldn't suppress the smug smile spreading across his face as he watched the gold coins pile up in real time.

How, you ask, were gold coins accumulating by the minute like this?

Simple—his business venture on the second floor had been a runaway success.

And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what was that business? Taking gold coins in the plaza of the Proof of Qualification under the pretext of "coaching."

"Most of the ones climbing up to the second floor came here praying they'd make it big in the Tower. You really think people like that are going to haggle over coins when we tell them they can pull a good starting skill? Not a chance."

"Keheheh. Truly, Boss—born to be a businessman."

"Oh now, come on. 'Boss'? We've got a proper outfit these days. Call me the Chairman… no, wait. Chairman. Yes, Chairman."

"Yes, Chairman, sir! Consider it corrected!"

"No need to correct a thing."

Wang Ochun had been living in a state of pure bliss lately.

Smiling as he pored over this month's revenue, he made his way toward his secret vault.

"Just a few more coins, and I'll have enough for the third jewel skill card."

Two jewel skill cards were enshrined in the deepest recess of that vault.

When a jewel skill card was used, starlight streamed out of it, and selecting one of those stars granted the corresponding skill.

In a word: a random skill-card gacha.

Once I reach the third floor, I'll expand the business there too. Heh heh heh.

Wang Ochun planned to gather exactly three jewel skill cards and run the gacha all at once. He'd likely have the third card in hand by the end of the day, in fact.

If even one Hero-grade skill came out of today's pull, he intended to challenge the 2nd Floor Ascension Exam straight away.

Hmm.

Then a stray thought crossed his mind.

Wait—if someone could actually see what grade those stars were, they'd be able to pick Legendary-or-better every single time, wouldn't they?

He found himself genuinely envious of anyone who had such an ability.

Then again, no one that absurdly overpowered could possibly exist.

Kwaaaaaaaah!

A waterfall thundered down in the far distance, and before me stretched an immense expanse of water.

No—that's not a pond. That's a lake.

Above the lake hovered a translucent, star-shaped hologram. As I stared at it, motes of starlight gathered before my eyes, and a system message materialized.

Thirty minutes.

I was to wipe out as many lake monsters as I could within that window.

You call this something a coaching session could fix?

Those eyesores from earlier came back to mind. Those fraudsters. What they really needed was for someone to knock their heads off so they could never run a scam like this again.

Shaking my head, I took a step toward the lake in front of me.

Bubble-bubble-bubble.

The surface foamed, and frog-like monsters began leaping out.

Frogs coated in a venom-laced mucus that let them cling to anything. Each one was the size of an adult's head.

What made them dangerous was this: if you let them close, they'd engulf your entire body in an instant, dissolving you down to the bare bone. Keep them at arm's length, though, and they were fairly easy to deal with.

Just like right now.

"Thunderbolt."

KRAKA-BOOOM!!

The emerald lightning that erupted from my hand swept clean through the mucus frogs.

"Kerrrk!"

"Kerit!!"

"Kek…"

Before they could even touch me, they charred pitch-black and crumbled away, bursting into pixel-like dust that scattered on the air. At the same time, starlight began filling the translucent star-shape floating overhead.

I gave a light nod at Ellaon's words.

I was going to do that even without being told.

Then a thought struck me out of nowhere.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Hold on—do I actually have to wait for them to come out?"

Come to think of it, wasn't the whole stage here a lake? My main skill was Thunderbolt. Couldn't I just cast it directly into the water?

Long speech aside, the summary came down to one line: Thunderbolt's mana would unravel inside the lake.

But my thinking was different.

Seems like it'd work to me.

If I simply bound the mana of Thunderbolt tightly enough that it couldn't scatter underwater, problem solved, no?

Sure, the cast time would stretch out accordingly—but it looked like more than enough to give the creatures at the bottom of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that lake a proper electric sauna.

My smile deepened at Ellaon's words.

"Ellaon, I respect that you were a Great Sage. But you are you, and I am me. Isn't that right?"

"That is…"

I stopped listening and materialized Thunderbolt straight into my hand. Now was the time to answer with action, not words.

Crackle, krrrz-zzt.

Emerald lightning coiled in my palm. I could feel it quivering, straining to burst free at any instant.

Ellaon's voice drifted in from beside me. I ignored it without a second thought.

Why?

Because I genuinely felt confident I could compress it even further from here.

Zzzap, zrrrz-zrrrz-zzt.

At my will, the mana of Thunderbolt condensed, thicker and denser. The emerald bolts swelled thicker in turn.

At the stunned crack in Ellaon's voice, the smile at the corner of my mouth climbed even higher.

And then—

Thunderbolt discharged from my hand.

Boosted by Spirit Amplification and layered with the Sage's Aura, it was a Thunderbolt packing megaton-class destructive power.

KRAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKA-BOOOM!!

Emerald lightning flooded the surface of the lake from end to end—

Fwaaaaaaash!

And in the blink of an eye, the star-shaped hologram began filling to the brim with starlight.