The Tower of Chaos

At the mouth of an alley, where a crumbling wall had collapsed into rubble, Haksal—wearing his skull mask—clicked his tongue.

"Already done?"

The blood-soaked man sprawled on the ground dropped to his knees and clawed at the air in desperate plea.

"P-please, spare me. We're both Players. PK in the real world is against the rules…!"

"Against the rules? Who decided that?"

"G-Gracia said so. He told everyone to avoid PK in reality."

"So Gracia's word is law now?"

"That's not what I—!"

"Tch."

Haksal drew a finger across his own throat.

Thud.

The man's head hit the pavement, cleanly severed.

Haksal let out a long sigh.

Another dud.

He had seeded the secret auction house with countless bait items, fishing for Phantom. All he ever reeled in were small fry like this.

He had killed the man in reality simply because the fool happened to be nearby. Using a Broken Fragment of the Golden Rule to Descend had pinpointed the location—but once again, it wasn't Phantom.

If it had been Phantom, a mere five-minute transformation wouldn't have broken the Descent. And the man had been far too weak besides.

Haksal rubbed his chin, thinking.

Where do I go if I want to catch Phantom?

Hunting him in the real world had its limits. Even with the Twin Talisman's options carefully concealed, no one was buying. It was starting to look as if Phantom never used the secret auction house at all.

The catches from his fishing attempts were all equally worthless.

Haksal stroked his jaw.

The Towers.

Main Quest 3 had come to mind—the climb.

Someone like Phantom wouldn't bother with an ordinary tower.

He wouldn't waste time on something as basic as the Foundation Tower. To claim first place, you needed a higher-order tower—like the Typhoon Tower Haksal himself had climbed, or the Immortal's Tower that Gracia had conquered.

The problem is he might clear it late if he's busy leveling…

Gracia had raised himself all the way to Level 7 while leaving Main Quest 2 unfinished, purely so he could conquer the Immortal's Tower and take the highest score. That tower normally required Level 9 or 10 just to reach the top. Climbing it at Level 7 remained a legendary miracle people still talked about.

Could Phantom surpass the score Gracia had set?

Towers above the Immortal's Tower are hard even for me right now.

Haksal was strong. Level 10, and he prided himself on nearly reaching one-star caliber. Even so, fully conquering the Immortal's Tower would not be easy. Anything higher? He might not make it even if he staked his life on the attempt.

For Phantom—who had only just become a Player—to climb towers of that tier was impossible.

And yet Phantom's every move so far had been about speed. He wouldn't waste months grinding levels the way Gracia had.

…The Tower of the War God. That's where he'll go.

It was the only place where you could still earn a top-tier score regardless of level.

The Tower of the War God—an arena for warriors who lived to fight and fought like madmen.

The gap between gamer and Player was usually an unbridgeable wall. Being good at a game did not mean you could fight well once you became a Player. But this was Phantom. The legend of Pangenia.

Looking at his Main Quest 1 score, it's clear he still fights like a monster even as a Player.

Every gamer who became a Player faced an extreme situation. Scores were handed out based on how well you kept your head, survived, and fought. The one presumed to be Phantom—Randolph—had taken first place there as well.

He hadn't panicked at all. He had clung to life with vicious tenacity, and on top of that he had gone around slaughtering enemies without mercy.

He adapted even more flexibly than I did…

Haksal found himself remembering the moment he had become a Player.

Main Quest 1: Survival. He had woken in a chimera laboratory as one of countless test subjects. He had been briefly startled, then adapted as fast as possible, assassinated the doctor and the guards, and escaped. Even after all that, he had only scored 163.

How Randolph had earned 220 was still beyond him.

Regardless—someone that monstrous would absolutely head for the Tower of the War God.

I'll wait for him there.

Purpose decided, Haksal smiled.

He would be the one to kill Phantom. He would never tolerate anyone else claiming that kill.

"Captain. We checked every CCTV in the area. There's no trace of him at all."

A Union member who had been combing the streets around the Cheongdam steakhouse let out a heavy sigh.

The man they called Captain shook his head as well.

"It's enough to make a ghost cry. Even the people who were inside the building at the time claim they know nothing."

They had scoured every camera within a one-kilometer radius. They had interviewed everyone who had been present. Not a single lead on the man who had killed Chid Mamba.

Even if he wasn't Phantom or the Operator, anyone who could subdue Chid Mamba with that kind of artistry had more than enough skill to join the Union. And yet they couldn't find a single clue. It was as if the man had simply evaporated into thin air.

"Should we go talk to Jung Jinwoo again?"

"Forget it. The man's lost his mind."

Jung Jinwoo was still in the hospital—driven mad by the shock of having both arms severed. Visiting him again would only waste time.

The younger member pressed on.

"What about Kim Hana? She looked like she knew something, didn't she?"

"So you want us to storm CK Broadcasting?"

"Not that, but… we could wait for her outside, right?"

"Don't touch her. It'll only get messy."

"…Does Kim Hana have some kind of backing?"

"You know Gracia is visiting Korea, right?"

"Yeah. Every Player in the country is going crazy over it."

"That man is supposedly doing a one-on-one interview with Kim Hana."

"Huh? Why? Did he fall for her at first sight or something?"

"How the hell should I know, kid. Just don't go kicking the hornet's nest."

Gracia—undisputedly the strongest Player alive. A true hero revered by every Player without exception.

And he had suddenly announced a visit to Korea. Rumors were already circulating that he would conduct a private interview with Kim Hana.

The whole world was in chaos from the invasions and the erosion. Nations could barely protect their own soil, and yet Gracia was coming to Korea—over the American government's objections, no less.

Something big is tangled up in this.

Kim Hana was a hornet's nest. The Captain was curious, sure—but if Gracia was involved, the smart move was to stay as far away as possible. One wrong step that soured Gracia's mood, and the entire Union would be crushed.

The Captain ranked fourth within the Union. Level 10, and only a Star away from Transcendence. Even he had no confidence he could last three seconds against Gracia.

The Sword Saint who had consumed a Star and Transcended. No one knew how many stars he held. There were even rumors he had once been a rival to Wilhelm—the five-star Transcendent.

"So if Gracia and Wilhelm fought, who would win?"

"Wilhelm is dead. That comparison is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠meaningless now."

"Still, aren't you curious? They were both part of the 8 Heroes."

He was curious, in truth.

Wilhelm—the character Phantom had poured the most care into raising. Five Stars fed into him, wrapped head to toe in Unique-grade gear: a legend, a myth the likes of which Pangenia would never see again.

And Gracia? As a Player, he was still writing legends of his own. His limits seemed so nonexistent that people half-suspected bugs or cheat keys. No one truly knew how strong he was, because no enemy had ever forced him to show his ceiling.

I heard he consumed another Star recently.

Only a rumor—but if true, he had grown even stronger. How much stronger? How strong was he now?

Still, for the moment, Wilhelm would be stronger.

The Captain judged coldly. Wilhelm was a powerhouse without precedent. More than that, the Captain had seen him fight—he had taken part in the Great Expedition into the Demon Realm himself.

That overwhelming martial force when Wilhelm carved through the demonkin… if a Martial God existed, that was what it would have felt like. The thrill of that day still hadn't faded.

You could also tell from how carefully Gracia had avoided ever meeting Wilhelm.

But Wilhelm was dead. And Gracia was alive, growing stronger by the day.

Though I still don't understand why Gracia is even counted among the 8 Heroes. He never joined the Great Expedition at all…

The moment I stepped into the Spirit Tower, Isabella and Hudson—who had entered with me—vanished.

From here on, it was a solo trial. Each of us had been guided to the elemental gate that suited us.

The Spirit Tower answered only those who truly yearned. If Hudson genuinely longed for something, he would achieve it as he climbed. The same held for Isabella.

At the tower's entrance, a face emerged from the surface of a massive stone gate—the gate's spirit, one of the tower's administrators, and the assessor who opened the proper door for each climber.

"Remarkable. Affinity with every attribute…"

The mouth moved, reading my talents and expressing open astonishment. Affinity with every attribute was, after all, itself a form of talent.

The gate measured the most suitable elemental affinity and opened the corresponding door—a water spirit's gate for water affinity, a fire spirit's gate for fire, and so on.

But when someone possessed affinity with every attribute, choosing a single door became a problem.

"You even carry opposing attributes together. The attribute of Void, then… and yet even calling it Void feels insufficient. There is simply too much."

The stone-gate spirit deliberated.

By nature, no being could hold opposing attributes at once—fire and water could not coexist. The sole exception was one who possessed the attribute of Void. Void allowed opposing forces to dwell together.

But even with Void, this was excessive. Affinity with every attribute, without exception. Even the Gate of Void would not fit.

"When everything is mixed together, that is Chaos itself. But the Gate of Chaos has never been opened…"

The spirit's face twisted in a frown. The Gate of Chaos had never once opened since the Spirit Tower was raised.

"Open it."

Another mystery. I had no reason to refuse.

I chose without hesitation, and the stone-gate spirit stopped fretting.

"…An insolent Druid, aren't you. Fine. I will open it. You seem to have the qualifications."

Creeeak—!

The spirit of the stone gate swung its body wide.

"But be careful. If Chaos consumes you, you will never return."

I shrugged at the warning and walked in without looking back.

The Tower of Chaos.

A place steeped in curses that unraveled the mind. Pitch-black darkness itself—and yet:

I could see it—the path the Tower of Chaos had hidden.

Even the stone-gate spirit couldn't have known I carried thirteen Hidden Traits. Those traits alone let me walk the domain of Chaos as if it were ordinary ground.

"Chaos doesn't work on him?"

"What is that human? No—a Druid?"

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

"Contract with me!"

Chaos spirits swarmed in an instant. I walked straight past them.

As I climbed, larger Chaos spirits appeared.

"Insolent whelp. You dare ascend this place?"

"I'll turn you into Chaos as well."

Far more aggressive than the ones below. One suddenly swelled to giant size and tried to crush me flat—but they were illusions. Mental constructs meant to grind down the minds of the fearful, nothing more.

Whoosh!

I reached out without hesitation, and it dissolved like smoke.

"Have you come seeking the glory of the past? Do you think that's possible?"

One floor higher, Wilhelm stood waiting.

Shing.

I drew Michela's blade and faced the Chaos spirit wearing Wilhelm's form.

Clang! Shiiing! Hiss—!

It was identical to me. It cut, thrust, and stabbed exactly as I did. But I did not yield. Against the real Wilhelm I would have died in a single exchange—yet this was only "me" wearing Wilhelm's face, matching my strength, my technique, my every movement.

How many hours did we fight? Time stretched past any ordinary measure; a full day must have passed at least. After that, time only accelerated—two days, three, ten. Perhaps far more than that.

"Disgusting creature!"

Whoosh!

The Chaos spirit burst into smoke once more and vanished. Breathing hard, I climbed the stairs.

"To have come this far—your qualifications are satisfied."

"Let us form a contract."

"You are worthy."

Spirits far larger than any Chaos I had faced before waited there. There were no more stairs. Was this the top floor?

"Not a single one of you appeals to me."

The Chaos spirits before my eyes were undeniably powerful—stronger than any spirit I had ever seen. But they did not please me. What dignity could creatures have that begged for a contract after I had climbed only this far?

"Contract with me, and you will gain an effect equal to obtaining a Star."

"Contract with me. I will tell you the location of equipment that is Unique in all the world."

"What of a skill? I will gift you a top-tier Chaos-class skill."

They seemed to like me a great deal, dangling condition after condition. A Unique-grade item and a top-tier Chaos skill were tempting, true—but what reason did I have to trust a contract with Chaos?

These were creatures that had pretended to be giants, pretended to be me, and spun nothing but lies. The terms of their contracts could just as easily be false.

A contract demanded caution. You could not bind yourself to a multitude of spirits.

"Where are you going?"

"There is nothing below."

"A foolish choice."

"You will climb back up eventually."

Leaving their protests behind, I descended the tower. Every floor down brought harsher trials, as if goading me to turn around and climb again. But what I disliked, I disliked.

And so the long ordeal—the fighting—began anew.

I faced two versions of myself. Descend further, and four of "me" were waiting. Then eight. Then sixteen.

Strangely, my body never tired—but time itself was grinding my mind down. Even the Heart of the Iron-Blooded Lord could not protect mental strength forever. Superhuman will meant nothing before the sheer weight of time.

The thought of simply climbing back up and contracting with any Chaos spirit that would have me did cross my mind more than once. Each time, I shook my head. I would not force a contract like that.

The choice of a contract had to be mine alone. If I yielded to coercion or compulsion now, I would keep yielding forever after.

Time drifted without destination. Ten days. Twenty. Thirty…

Until counting days became meaningless, I fought Chaos.

"You revolting, unkillable bastard!"

"Get out! Leave!"

At last the Chaos spirits raised the white flag. They opened an exit.

Any ordinary person would have sprinted outside in pure elation. I did not. Moments like these were precisely when you needed to stay wary of your surroundings.

Slash—!

Sure enough, Chaos lunged from directly behind me.

Persistent vermin.

They meant to cling to the bitter end. I cut through the shadow-like Chaos, and through the gap a brilliant light shone.

A spirit. Could it be a Light Spirit? Light Spirits were rare, ranked among the highest tiers. But why would a Light Spirit be in the domain of Chaos?

That is not a Light Spirit.

Something about it was subtly different. Ignoring the exit that would have let me escape Chaos entirely, I walked toward the light instead.

"That is not the way out."

"Do you intend to go back in?"

"Fool. Fine—fight until you die, then!"

The Chaos spirits tried to stop me. Their tone was nothing like the mocking, taunting attitude they had worn until now. Which only made me want to go further.

The exit gate was shrinking. If I did not leave now, the chance might never come again. But that light kept calling me—something utterly distinct from Chaos.

"Stop! Halt!"

"If you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠go further, there is no turning back."

"Do you wish to remain in Chaos forever?"

Chaos was so talkative it made my ears ache. I kept cutting it away and kept walking. And the instant I touched the light—

…This was the true summit.

Climbing, descending, and refusing every path Chaos laid out—that had been the correct answer all along.

In an instant, countless beings turned their interest toward me and fixed their attention. Even the haughty Constellations and the tower's masters.

The Lords of the Spirit Tower would mean the Spirit Kings themselves. Was it simply because I had climbed the Tower ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Chaos to its peak?

No. That couldn't be all of it. There was a greater reason—and I already had a fair idea what it was.

The thing still radiating light right in front of me.