Chapter 172
Chapter 172
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 172
Chapter Title: Root (2)
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“Hmm, it looks like Ragnar has finally found a decent candidate after all this time. Don’t you all think so?”
Keratosucus stroked his chin with interest while gazing at the large screen floating before him.
There, Theo was ascending the White Tower at an astonishing speed.
As if he already knew exactly what each floor’s mission entailed.
“Even if he came from the future, that’s seriously impressive.”
[The God of ■■ opines that it’s not just decent—it’s among the top candidates in history. ■■■■]
[The God of ■■■ ■ seriously thinks it might be worth considering an Apostle position for him.]
[The God of Harmony ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■ ■ ■■■■.]
.
.
The reactions from the gods observing the White Tower were explosive.
More than a few were already fidgeting, eager to offer Theo an Apostle position on the spot.
In the first place, an Apostle was a kind of incarnation created by gods trapped in the prison of causality to influence the human world.
Since it was made from a piece of their own spirit and flesh, it could manifest some of the god’s powers.
That was why Apostles throughout history had all left deep marks in the annals—whether for better or worse.
And gods paid great attention to selecting Apostles who could enhance their reputation and spread their faith.
Yet here, nearly all the gods were taken with Theo.
[The God of Causality’s ■■ cautiously speculates that this might finally let us see the ■■ of the closed world. ■■■■]
Keratosucus’s expression hardened at the sudden message that popped up.
“Would the God of Causality mind choosing his words more carefully? Even if we’ve finally got a candidate we like after so long, rash speculation and expectations can only lead to painful losses.”
[The God of In■■ looks dejected, eyes welling up with tears■■. Its tail droops powerlessly■■■■.]
Haa!
Keratosucus let out a sigh.
Every time the gods acted so unbecoming of their authority, he felt a deep disillusionment with his job.
Crybabies were standard, along with chatterboxes, nosy old busybodies, and maniacs obsessed with explosions—dealing with these personality wrecks was wearing him thin.
‘I need to find a suitable successor and close the Mystery soon, damn it.’
It was then.
Pop!
Suddenly, a small screen appeared next to the one showing Theo.
A warning message alerting him to an unauthorized intruder.
“Hmm.”
Keratosucus was about to order its expulsion but paused, sinking into thought.
Upon closer inspection, the intruder was another Ragnar.
It seemed like someone who’d come out of jealousy toward Theo.
[The God of ■■ asks the administrator what he’s thinking.]
“Oh, I was just considering Ragnar family rules. They never turn away challengers, right? So I’m wondering if we should really block the intruder.”
[The God of ■■ says the administrator mentions family rules, but that smile looks awfully sinister.]
“Ahem! Misunderstanding, pure misunderstanding.”
[The God of ■■ replies that it doesn’t seem like one.]
[The other gods in the Pantheon of All Gods vehemently agree with the God of ■■.]
“Anyway, it’s a good chance to test the candidate’s resolve and skill further. Shall we just let it be? We can kick them out if trouble starts.”
[The gods of the Pantheon of All Gods begin voting on the administrator’s proposal.]
[In favor: 156, Against: 21]
[In favor wins, so the administrator’s proposal is adopted.]
“Then let’s watch and see, shall we?”
Keratosucus’s lips curved into a sly grin.
* * *
‘What the hell is this?’
Gishar had been brimming with confidence when he first started climbing the White Tower.
It was conquered by some kid, after all—how hard could it be?
But that notion shattered the moment he reached the second floor.
“Wielding three swords at once?”
At first, he thought it was a failure since the guy looked just like Theo and was dead. But the hair and eye color were different, so he quickly realized it was a fake.
The problem was the traces of fierce combat.
This floor had been cleared in just over 40 seconds, so he’d wondered how intense the fight could’ve been.
But the destruction and sword gashes on the walls showed it was anything but dismissible.
“I figured the rumors of upper-class swordsman level were exaggerated... Hmph! At least he’s got the basics down, huh?”
Of course, it didn’t seem like something that could take him down, so Gishar snorted and downplayed his assessment of Theo.
But the moment he reached the third floor.
‘...He might not be below me.’
Gishar broke out in cold sweat for the first time.
The greatsword handling was one thing, but the level of sword control using psychokinesis was no joke.
It was as if four Theos had roamed freely, launching a coordinated assault.
Especially the traces of slicing through multiple foes in a single stroke—they sent chills down his spine.
And the tension only grew with each subsequent floor.
The fourth floor was an ordinary mansion.
It had a courtyard, and plenty of people who looked like merchants milling about.
But it seemed like it had been raided—the mansion was engulfed in flames, leaving only a hideous skeleton, with corpses slain by swords or arrows littering the grounds.
The attackers wore masks to hide their identities, but each had a stunned expression, hearts pierced through.
Traces of the Ego Sword.
“Was he rushing in to rescue a mansion under attack? But the methods are brutally ruthless. Like facing mortal enemies...”
Gishar now calmly followed Theo’s trail.
This time, though, a question arose: up until now, Theo’s traces showed efficient movement, but here they carried an unnecessarily cruel edge.
Emotional excess.
“Who the hell were these guys?”
What Gishar had realized while climbing was that most floors’ missions were connected to Theo somehow.
Which meant this incident might tie into Theo’s trauma...
Gishar pulled off the corpses’ masks or rummaged through their clothes, searching for clues to their identities.
Thanks to that, he spotted one common thread.
“These are Ragnars? From under the Central Intelligence Agency, no less...”
Was this linked to the clash between Theo and Ed?
But as far as Gishar knew, Theo had never left Winterler until he was fifteen. He hadn’t had time for trauma like this.
‘Something’s off here.’
Then, Gishar found more clues on the mansion’s outskirts.
The attackers’ base, judging by the collision with Theo.
Dead warhorses littered the area.
They’d apparently tried to hide their identities with armor of different materials, but one and all.
Gishar recognized them as the “Dragon Horses,” a breed specially managed by the Ragnars.
And only one group used Dragon Horses.
“The Central Intelligence Agency makes sense, but why would the Black Iron Knights attack this mansion...?”
The mysteries were piling up.
* * *
As Gishar consecutively cleared the fifth and sixth floors, which evoked ‘dreams,’ he finally had to admit the truth he’d wanted to ignore.
“He’s already on par with Dragon Gate Swordsmen. He doesn’t yield an inch.”
He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud, but Theo might even be above him.
Yet the most terrifying part was something else.
“He keeps getting stronger. Endlessly. How can he grow this much in such a short time?”
Gishar, unaware of the Chronograph— the Magic Empress’s secret weapon— had no choice but to think that way.
With each floor, Theo accelerated his conscious time to the max, reviewing the previous floor’s battle and insights, deeply analyzing the current one’s strategy.
The inspiration from the Sword Orb grew ever more intense.
Now, even Gishar could see Theo’s growing madness crystal clear.
That’s right.
It had surpassed mere aspiration—it was nothing short of insanity.
The madness to grow stronger...
“I have to kill him. No matter what.”
And so Gishar resolved to change his mindset.
He’d started out just wanting to put the brat in his place.
But now, he needed to crush this budding rival who might prove an even greater threat than Torkel.
Fortunately, the traces suggested Theo was tiring physically too.
Shing!
A rack sword, one side bristling with blades, leaped from its sheath.
Gishar stepped toward the stairs to the next floor.
Careful not to reveal his presence.
As stealthily as possible.
But his resolve was shattered spectacularly.
“Wh-what the hell is this place...?”
Eighth floor.
This floor was utterly unlike anything he’d seen so far.
A massive metropolis where gray concrete skyscrapers formed a forest, sketching a colossal skyline.
A futuristic city beyond even the imperial capital, said to be the empire’s most prosperous.
[Surrender to Your Skin]
[Math Specialists for College Entrance Exams]
Neon signs and billboards in unfamiliar scripts blinked everywhere—things Gishar couldn’t hope to read.
Gishar, who’d basked in every luxury and splendor, felt his very soul crushed by the city’s overwhelming pressure for the first time.
The streets teemed with people.
Dressed in simple suits, carrying strange bags in one hand, they hurried along.
They glanced at the armed Gishar like he was some oddity but paid him no further mind, going about their business.
Instead of horses, bizarre armored machines ferried people on well-paved roads.
Bridges between buildings hosted train-like things speeding off without a puff of steam.
The air was murky. Breathing felt labored.
Worst of all, he couldn’t sense any mana.
“Dropped into a totally alien world, with a mission not to abuse magic? But what does this have to do with Theo...?”
Gray.
If he had to describe the city’s color, that’d be it.
Previous floors felt familiar despite timeline mismatches, but the eighth felt like a plunge into another world entirely.
How was he supposed to find Theo’s traces here?
Gishar was lost for the first time.
* * *
At that moment.
Theo had already entered the tenth floor.
‘Okay, fine, pulling up my past life to trigger trauma makes sense, but Seoul too...?’
The eighth floor was still vivid, like it had just happened.
Truth be told, Theo barely remembered his Earth life.
Just that his name was Yoo Tae-oh—no family, no job came to mind.
He’d assumed he’d lived a rough life piecing together the few fragments left.
But he’d confronted some of those fragments.
The mission was simple.
-Find and kill your original ‘self.’
In a metropolis of ten million, how was he supposed to locate himself with no clues?
Still, by constantly activating the Chronograph and chasing his scant memories, he found himself in Pangyo, south of Seoul.
A young man with sunken, hollow eyes, cigarette in mouth, tinkering with a computer.
Whatever he was doing, he looked deadly serious.
“I have to finish it... Finish...”
Even after slaying that desperate-seeming Yoo Tae-oh, Theo lingered for a long while.
Blink, blink.
He stared at the cursor awaiting the next command, only moving to the ninth floor after Roadbroke’s urging as full buff uptime ticked down.
It was then.
[You have fulfilled the hidden condition.]
[Access to Level 1 information, previously restricted for security, is now granted.]
[Filtering system terminated.]
[You are running Beta Service #132.]
[New patch initiating.]
[1, 2, 3%...... 16, 17%...... 69%...... 79%]
The sudden messages were still mostly gibberish.
But somehow, Theo felt they strikingly resembled the scene on the monitor before dead Yoo Tae-oh.
[The God of Causality gazes at you intently with sparkling eyes.]