Winds of Change (2)
[Honestly, clearing 150 feels like a done deal now]
I grew ten whole stages myself, but the real bombshell was Jeong Chan-su completing his star series at a mere 150 layers—and now he can tap that power if push comes to shove.
'When's that guy planning to reveal it?'
I pursed my lips for no reason. In the story, he didn't show that power until much later, in a bigger crisis. With his deep-seated distrust of people, he always saved his trump card for the absolute last moment.
Thanks to that, even though I already knew, I couldn't let on. And yet, he'd probably strut into the 150-layer strategy meeting full of confidence, pushing to rush the assault.
[I'm more hyped for the drop to 35]
Besides that, the hot topic buzzing the gallery was my trip down to 35. Gathering materials to pioneer new paths meant heading back below—and surprisingly, plenty of users were into it. "We've never seen scenery like this," they said.
I saw those comments and wondered, Is that so? So I left a question myself, and the reply was, "You'll see when you watch."
I let out a wry chuckle. Maybe they knew me better than I knew myself.
Heading down felt easier. Chewing on that, it wasn't wrong. Unlike the upper layers where I bore the weight as a ranker and leader, below I could just splash cash, breeze through easy quests, and chill. Sure, the modern Earth-mode city conveniences beat the drab underground at 135—guild HQ—but still.
[Fresh off 35 layers, Shadis lololol]
···And whenever lower layers came up, one more gallery staple popped: the seed I left behind, the dark elf Shadis.
Logged into the gallery, I caught her updates via other users' posts. True to her word about waiting at 35, post-separation, she'd scraped together a party and desperately climbed back up.
Seeing a video of her cheering fresh at 35, I dropped a comment on that post.
Most Shadis threads were light, jokey stuff. No serious talent evals or strategy guides.
'If I could drop a hint, it'd help big time.'
Gallery fans dished on my circle without hesitation—for my sake. Even the strongest can't solo everything; this tower demands backup. Kim Ji-eun strat posts were huge; I'd leak intel to her based on those.
Their crude tone hid bone-deep advice.
My casual toss got replies. My steady lurking had shed the newbie tag.
Talent doesn't matter much in the tower. Unlike climbers grinding against limits, watchers—who'd already summited—agreed.
Some fans speculated I wanted to train her, getting excited. Frontline grinders often heal via mentoring the weak. Self-roasts like "We're doing it now" popped up.
Couldn't deny outright. Our bond was chance, but with more lower runs ahead, connections helped.
My subtle bait worked. From one question, they brainstormed—boom, Shadis strat post incoming.
'The one hidden achievement left unclaimed.'
Fate Road's constellation hive-mind was vast. Even a weathered ranker like me got remodel tips from them. They knew story-secrets even I, the possessor, missed.
Thanks to that, I could nudge Shadis toward it carefully. No direct spoilers—if she's sharp, she'll catch on and grab it herself.
"Take care down there. Thought lower layers were safe, but last time says otherwise."
"Don't worry too much. It's not like we'll lose contact."
Packing to leave HQ, Kim Ji-eun and guildmates saw me off.
"Safe travels!"
The lined-up crew bellowed in unison. Felt like a yakuza boss—they ignored my "cut it out."
'Should've nipped it early.'
Knight-order originals started it; Kim Ji-eun thought it cool.
"Reina."
"...What now?"
But striding out, status window open for descent prep on a quiet street—bam, thoughts derailed.
A familiar face slipped up, hailing me.
"He wants a quick word."
Short sporty hair, tough Korean guy: Kim Dong-su, Jeong Chan-su's lackey. For him alone, so obviously Chan-su-related.
"You only show at times like this?"
"Heard you're dropping to 35, so yeah."
No fancy teahouse needed. Spot was a deserted alley; Jeong Chan-su waited, blank-faced as ever.
"Here for 150 strat talk."
No probing chit-chat. Straight to it on sight.
"Heard already. Was gonna head up separate."
"No need to waste time. Essentials now; skip the later meeting. Focus on your lower gig."
"...Since when the consideration?"
I blinked. This much? In person?
"Endless bloodbaths: 125 breakthrough, ten stages up from records. Looks like enlightenment toward new heights—can't interrupt that."
"Just for that? Wanna help my growth?"
"Said it before: you're key power. Not for 150—for higher."
He stepped close, black eyes unreadable, looming. Annoying angle—I was tall, but still craned up. Past body wouldn't have.
"Even now, idiots waste strength on petty rivalries. Few obsess daily on stakes for this tower—and us."
Regressor charging ahead for one goal: avert the apocalypse he failed in round one. Purging old rankers post-newbie rise? All for that.
"I fit your criteria? Honored."
"125 breakthrough nets a reward: Star's Origin. But you don't know what exactly."
My scoff prompted the pivot. He nailed it spot-on. Eyes widening, he nodded—confirmed.
"Star's Origin pairs with another imprint for a set. Merge them, glimpse your fate."
"...What's that?"
Play dumb. Hint knowledge, he'd pounce like a wolf. How'd you know~? That throat-grip threat lingered.
"That reaction says you got it. Endless bloodbaths give Star's Origin to first 125 breakers, one each. Later piece unlocks the power..."
He spilled saint-level secrets no one here knew. I knew, but shock was real—sat stunned as he shared hero-exclusive intel with me.