Randolph, Summoned
Has he gone insane?
Hu of House Dercian watched Aron and thought.
Aron, son of Cardinal Johansen of the Goddess Sect. The man was a wastrel. Not merely a wastrel—a complete degenerate. His reputation for debauchery had spread so thoroughly that even the Empire had heard every sordid detail.
When news arrived that Aron had entered the tournament, Hu had found it absurd. Aron knew better than anyone the Death God Religion’s hostility toward the Goddess Sect. Why send him officially at all?
I thought it was a political show.
Aron, whose head was full of flowers, never even dreamed of it—but anyone with eyes could see he was bait for the Goddess Sect. Outwardly, the move was for exchange with the Empire. Inwardly, they must have been certain the Death God Religion would never leave Aron alone. To the Death God Religion, Aron was bait packaged far too prettily. They could not help but bite.
Sending him together with Bartashu was as good as begging us to kill him.
Bartashu, a holy knight of the highest order. He did not regard anyone who refused the Goddess as human. He had a history of mercilessly slaughtering Empire citizens and Death God followers who did not believe. Aron was no different. He reserved his worst excesses exclusively for those outside the Goddess Sect—so that his father, Cardinal Johansen, could deliberately cover for him.
Originally I intended to kill them myself…
What else could be the intent behind packaging the two of them together? No citizen of the Empire believed the Goddess Sect had sent them for genuine exchange. They simply needed a pretext—that the Empire had killed Aron.
Fine. It made no difference. So Hu had planned to kill them. They had been sent begging to die; refusing would have been stranger still. Since when did the Arhon Empire take cues from the Goddess Sect?
I never expected him to latch onto that monster.
Yet at some point Aron had attached himself to “Hyun,” a fellow native of the holy city. At first Hu had been certain Hyun would kill Aron. Watching limbs severed one by one with every floor they climbed had even been entertaining. Leaving Aron to die at the hands of someone from the same city had not seemed bad, so Hu had let it be. After the fourteenth floor, however, every situation and every relationship flipped.
That black phantom… it was unmistakably a mass of mana formed from Sword Gang.
Sword Gang—the energy that could only be generated once martial skill reached its absolute limit. Hyun had shaped that Sword Gang into a colossal phantom. Merely standing nearby drained one’s mana; movement became impossible. Yet that was no ordinary power. It was clearly the heretical force the Goddess Sect ought to reject.
“I revere you! He who carries on the Goddess’s will! Holy saint who spreads the Goddess’s will throughout the world! I shall believe solely, more steadfastly, in the Goddess alone!”
…He had truly gone mad.
Even after they reached the sixteenth floor, Aron’s madness continued. He crawled on all fours like a dog, praying without cease, elevating one man above all others. Hyun of Adrium. Had they not been enemies until only recently?
That side shows no interest in helping.
What was certain was that Hyun of Adrium and Aron appeared to care little about the sixteenth floor. Hyun in particular kept his eyes closed, not so much as twitching, as though deep in meditation. Hu clicked his tongue and turned his head.
Every gaze in the chamber was fixed on one place. There stood the “Ancient Demon.”
“Greetings. I am the ‘Former Champion,’ Sancha.”
At first glance he looked like an ordinary man. His body, however, was anything but ordinary.
A chimera?
Flesh cut, grafted, and recombined in every direction. Some sections were so loosely joined they barely held together. The sight was revolting enough to turn the stomach. The man who introduced himself as Former Champion Sancha displayed that body with complete confidence—utterly at ease among hundreds of powerful fighters.
Was defeating the former champion the trial of the sixteenth floor of the Tower of the War God?
“Former Champion…!”
“Ah—the one who held the champion’s seat for years without ever yielding it in the Tower of the War God?”
“I heard he stopped appearing entirely of late.”
“His name was Sancha?”
Of course some among them knew him. Before the tower’s reorganization he had reigned as champion for a long stretch of time. Absolute martial supremacy no one could break. A being spoken of as legend within the Tower of the War God. And now he stood on the sixteenth floor, introducing himself as “Former Champion.”
“From this moment I will show you every technique I possess.”
What Sancha said next was entirely unexpected—as though defeating him was not the objective at all. Former Champion Sancha continued.
“After I have shown them, you will have thirty minutes to deliberate and choose. Select the technique you believe you can block. I will adjust to your level.”
“You mean to spar one by one?”
“Correct.”
Sancha nodded. Then he slowly settled into a stance and spoke again.
“The ‘Unique Techniques’ I will demonstrate number one hundred. Block even a single one, and you may proceed to the next floor.”
“Just one out of a hundred?”
“Yes. Block it once. That is enough to pass the sixteenth floor.”
“Isn’t that too easy?”
Even for a legendary former champion… simply block one technique adjusted to the opponent’s level. Compared to the “Struggle” that had run from the eleventh floor onward, it genuinely looked too simple. After the blood-soaked wars they had fought to break through previous floors, a trial like this—
Someone asked, “Has anyone ever blocked all one hundred techniques?”
“There has.”
“How many?”
Sancha raised the index and middle fingers of his right hand.
“Two.”
“Two? Is one of them the current champion, Randolph?”
Sancha nodded.
“Correct. One is Randolph.”
“Then who is the other?”
In that instant Sancha smiled. Every ear strained to listen. The current champion, Randolph—even if told his identity, most would not know him. But the name that left Sancha’s mouth next was one every person present recognized.
“The Knight King, Wilhelm.”
Wilhelm.
…Wilhelm.
The name was certainly legendary. Yet Wilhelm’s name had been slowly fading. No matter how many legends and myths he had forged, he remained the “loser” of the Great Expedition—the one who had led more than a hundred thousand soldiers and knights to slaughter. Moreover, more than a year had passed. The world was convulsing, producing ever more powerful figures. As hidden powerhouses such as Raiga or King Fredrick of the Iron Kingdom revealed themselves, the world steadily forgot “Wilhelm.”
To think that name would leave Sancha’s lips.
“Wilhelm is not the Knight King.”
Hu of House Dercian stepped forward and denied it. When Sancha’s eyes turned toward him, Hu leveled his sword.
“The true Knight King is Lord Raiga alone.”
“Raiga? Who is that?”
“······.”
“Is he here, by chance?”
“He is not a participant of the tower—”
“Do I need to know the name of a coward who refuses to climb the tower?”
“He is no coward!”
At Hu’s fierce protest, Sancha snickered.
“I believe I’ve heard the name somewhere. About fifty years ago, the fellow who pissed himself while facing me was definitely called ‘Raiga.’”
“You bastard…!”
“If you’re angry, prove it.”
Toward Hu, who still held his sword pointed, Sancha settled into a stance.
In that instant—
Whoooosh—!
A wave of mana centered on Sancha swallowed the entire sixteenth floor.
“······!”
“······ M-Mana…!”
They could not move. As though bound, they could not so much as twitch. It was a sensation utterly different from the mana of that monster Hyun of Adrium on the fourteenth floor. A sticky, filthy feeling, as if the entire body had been coated. As if one’s body no longer belonged to oneself. A sensation of having everything stolen away.
If two people blocked every technique, blocking one should be easy enough.
What? Is he actually nothing special?
…They had thought so. Only then did the tower’s challengers revise their judgment. The astonishment, however, did not end there.
“Azure Dragon Kick. Serpent Dragon Sword. Unity of God and Sword.”
One by one. Each time a technique was executed, they could not tear their eyes away. Every technique was overwhelming—higher in completion than any existing form. That a single being had perfected and transcended so many techniques!
Block that?
How is anyone supposed to block something like that?
They had their souls stolen by the Former Champion, the Ancient Demon Sancha.
War God Karas welcomed Sancha’s appearance.
The Demon of Jealousy Sancha was consumed. By Randolph.
After being consumed, he had awakened the Demon of Greed. Thus Sancha was a name that should not exist. Yet at this moment he existed inside the tower. How had that been possible?
But not everything was consumed.
The Demon of Jealousy Sancha had indeed been consumed. Yet Sancha as Champion remained. From the beginning the two had possessed divided egos. The existence and ego of the Demon of Jealousy had been eaten; the existence and ego of the Champion had not. Of course, left alone, even the Champion’s existence would have vanished. War God Karas had preserved it—as a “trial” of the tower.
Champion Sancha, revived as a tower trial. The fellow recalled every memory and grew stronger still.
Champion Sancha had been bound to the Tower of the War God. He could not take a single step beyond it. In return, he had become more complete. First, the memories sealed by the Demon of Jealousy had returned. Second, by endlessly ruminating on his defeat against Randolph, he had advanced another step. How many, then, would pass the completed “Sancha”’s trial?
By the way…
War God Karas lifted his gaze to the summit of the tower. For the Champion’s role to be fulfilled, the tower had summoned the “Champion.” Champion Randolph. The problem was the behavior of the Randolph who had been summoned.
“…Why is he acting like that?”
······ I’m fucked.
Looks like I’m completely fucked.
I can’t log in.
Randolph is inside the tower. The tower had clearly forced the summoning of Randolph’s body. He would be on the thirtieth floor—the summit. Yet I cannot log in. Because I am here? Because we are inside the same tower?
I can’t even leave the tower.
The real problem is that even forfeiting is impossible. To get out of here I would have to die. Climb the tower, and my presence will be erased completely. Checkmate. I never imagined the tower would forcibly summon Randolph’s body.
But how was that even possible?
Even Dragon God Ainharthar had failed to summon Randolph. Main Quest 10 was supposed to force a summon, yet Randolph’s rank had been so high that Ainharthar ultimately had to carry him on his back. Compared to then, Randolph’s rank has only risen, never fallen. And still War God Karas and the tower managed to force the summoning of Randolph’s body.
Damn it.
The paradox of fate. In Pangenia, the closer I draw to Randolph, the fainter Park Hyunmyung’s presence becomes. I now understand exactly what that means.
My left arm won’t move.
My body is being forcibly paralyzed. The left arm in particular will not move at all.
“Aaaagh!”
“Keheuk!”
The Ancient Demon Sancha. That the former champion had returned was remarkable enough, but he was clearly stronger than before. Most challengers were dying in a single blow. Moreover, the techniques he displayed… grated strangely on the eye. He was freely reinterpreting and embedding the principles of Wilhelm’s swordsmanship—Creation of Heaven and Earth.
Could I even face Sancha with only my right arm? And even if I managed it, climbing the tower itself would still be a problem. Truly—
“Aaaah, I believe! O supreme absolute one! Propagate the Goddess’s words! Inform us of the Goddess’s will! Truly! With a sincere heart! This lowly servant shall devote his life to follow!!”
It was the greatest crisis of my life.