Indomitable (1)
Towers are built on competition at their core. Would they really intervene if challengers fought among themselves? Absolutely not. In fact, there are special rewards you can only get by killing fellow challengers.
The Federation and major factions forbid indiscriminate slaughter and abuse solely to preserve the tower's overall civilization and forces. Even now, brutal duels to the death are unfolding in some underground fighting pit somewhere.
'Still, a quasi-ranker would yield some nice rewards.'
I've killed here before. I'm long past any aversion to murder. It was never meaningless pleasure-killing—just retribution and examples made of those who came at me first.
This time, turning the tables on these assassins trying to take me out is partly to deter the Assassin Gallery users, but I'm also eyeing the new rewards.
"Yes, I've received your message, Reina."
"Can you tell me the list of people who entered this place from last night through this morning? No need for everyone—just the famous ones."
"That shouldn't be too hard, but... may I ask why?"
Sorry for the late hour, but I'd called Jake with one request. His voice was groggy from just waking up, laced with suspicion at my actions.
It was a natural reaction. This was completely out of character for someone like me, who usually ignored everything around her and stayed on the sidelines.
"I'll just say it's important for now."
"...I'll trust the judgment you've shown so far and go ahead with it."
I couldn't spell out the exact reason, but Jake accepted my request anyway. This is why reputation matters.
I've always been a bit free-spirited, sure, but I stuck to my principles. If I'd been some reckless loose cannon crossing lines left and right, he wouldn't have entertained this.
'What's next on the prep list?'
The sun hadn't risen yet, but I'd already ditched my pajamas and started moving. I decided to gear up for the threat ahead.
Serpina had already warned me. How I interpreted it and prepared was now entirely on me.
The Fan Gallery users had gotten wind of the Assassin Gallery's moves and were already huddled up, debating how I'd overcome this crisis. I watched it all unfold.
Whether plotting the attack or scheming countermeasures, both sides were furiously gathering intel and strategies, heating up the gallery like a furnace.
'These folks... they're having fun with this.'
I sensed a weird vibe from the users diving in like it was their own fight. It felt just like fans turning into armchair coaches during a sports match, hyping up the community.
Well, irritating as it was, this whole mess was prime "bait" for the gallery users—pure fuel for their fire.
The comment chain flowed endlessly, predicting enemy moves and brainstorming counters. I just cherry-picked the ones that clicked with me from the reports others had upvoted.
Of course, most assumptions hinged on me not knowing the hitmen's identities—tools of the Assassin Gallery.
I even dropped a comment myself. I'd planned to face them head-on even before Serpina's emergency oracle.
'Win without breaking a sweat? That's my take too.'
Their replies matched my thinking perfectly. My lips curved in satisfaction.
"Today's dungeon requires tackling two routes at once—pretty sizable place. As planned, I'll take the harder one solo. You guys hit the opposite side."
"Got it."
Early morning. I met the still-disciplined Shadis Party and issued orders casually, like nothing was up.
We'd planned everything from day one, so now it was just status checks and final confirmations.
"Something might go down in there today."
"Pardon...?"
But I couldn't leave them completely in the dark. I dropped it quietly, face stern.
What I shared mirrored Serpina's warning—vague, no specific target.
Still, hearing it came straight from my contract constellation froze them solid.
"It's aimed at me, so you might be fine. But we can't rule out contingencies."
I opened my inventory and handed out items one by one. They were caught in my mess—no way I'd let them get hurt.
◈ Forms a barrier that grows stronger with more resonating pieces nearby.
Four pieces for their group of four. That should hold until I could rush in and pull them out of any pinch.
"If it's really dangerous, shouldn't we scrap the run and bail?"
"In normal times, sure. But this is the tower. Every choice brings costs and rewards. I'm gunning for them this time."
Shadis was tense, rigid. I couldn't straight-up say I'd peeked Fate Road and knew the enemies' plans, so I framed it nicely: high risk, high return.
The siren song always whispering to tower climbers. As a possessor, I'd used my knowledge to nix risks and snag returns all along.
Source had changed, but the game was the same.
"Words worth remembering. We won't forget."
They nodded like I'd dropped some profound wisdom. The orc warrior Grol, with his rugged face and surprisingly small, sparkling eyes, looked ready to grovel if pushed.
"From last night to this morning, the quasi-rankers or higher entering Layer 35: only Pakla from Epirus Guild and Grolka from Jinus Guild."
'Gallery said five. Just two means the rest snuck in stealthy, huh?'
Right before heading in, I got Jake's update. As requested at dawn, he'd compiled intel on upper-layer entrants.
Quasi-rankers were celebs—paparazzi and crowds unless they hid hard. Possible, but they'd skip hotels or shops to dodge Federation eyes.
"You okay?"
"I'm good. Let's move."
I chuckled at Shadis's concern as I pocketed the phone. This was my path. Fear? Nah.
"Yes, Director. She's entered the dungeon now."
The dungeon Reina and Shadis Party hit was a ruined shopping mall setup. Tough for Layer 35, but generous junk rewards made it popular—crowded with daily raiders.
"Coffee break?"
The driver who'd dropped them yawned and stepped away. That's when a new party rolled up.
Like most geared challengers, but these hid every face—helmets, masks, hoods, no exceptions.
"Judas. Never thought you'd stoop to this."
"That's my line, Shioko."
Unlike other groups, they acted like total strangers, eyeing each other warily amid the tension.
"...You all know the drill. Today we bag a fish no one's hooked before. Cut the mind games."
It didn't last. The burliest, a hulking orc warrior in heavy plate, growled it out.
"We're just doing the job. That's enough."
First time meeting, but all had contract constellations barking orders—and plenty of prior wetwork under their belts.
Their Assassin Gallery sponsors had fed them gigs like this for ages, promising fat rewards. They killed for pay, no qualms.
'What's wrong with that?'
No guilt, no hesitation. This was the tower! Do anything to get strong—hell, you had to.
"Entry: 30 minutes elapsed. Infiltrate now. Full force on target the second we breach."
They waited out the clock, then slipped in naturally with the other parties.
Rift Generator (S) Activated
But their dungeon wasn't new—it was the one already occupied, mid-run.