Fire Breath Mastery and the Tower's Demonic Twist

On the third day of grinding away at the cultivation art to breathe fire like that Monster Cultivator Goblin, I finally hit my goal.

"Success!"

I whooped, perched on an open patch in the hills behind my place, watching sparks dance in the air. How many groans and grunts had I powered through for this moment? All those tweaks and trials paid off. Sure, a few hikers caught me striking some weird poses with my hand thrust out—prime blackmail material—but I just played it cool and laughed it off.

"Who am I? A cultivator on par with a C-rank hunter."

Shame? Not in my vocabulary. I could've used an awakener-exclusive training facility without prying eyes, but why blow over 100,000 won an hour? No need to ditch this perfect spot. Sure, I'd probably have to use one eventually—wouldn't want to get pegged as an arsonist if luck soured. Still, training amid nature like this wasn't half bad. Felt like I was progressing faster than when holed up in my room. But I couldn't ditch the city life. A shut-in NEET like me can't survive without delivery food anymore.

Alright, one more Flame Breath!

Fwoooosh—

Power drawn from my danjeon seamlessly turned to fire qi, bursting from my mouth.

"Am I gonna get scouted by a circus troupe or what?"

I breathed fire solo and cackled to myself. Same routine for days now. I was just that pumped. My realm was still low, so it wasn't some jaw-dropping blaze, but practice honed the knack. Spreading it like breath was weak sauce—bundle it and hurl? Total game-changer. The condensed blast packed C-rank ignition-level punch. I cross-checked online vids to confirm.

"Feels good, man."

Three days ago, I was a community ghost. Now? A superhuman ability user. Shoulders squared, grin unstoppable.

"Who am I? Future S-rank."

"Woof!"

Even a passing dog celebrated with me. Yeah. I'd nailed it. Thanks to the XianxiaGallery cultivators' help and endless trial-and-error, I'd mastered the flame spell.

"Oh, right—not the time."

Proof pic time. Had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to blast this dopamine surge somewhere, ASAP. Humming a ditty, I snapped the charred rock and the fireball mid-launch. Then hurled it into my spiritual homeland, the ClimberGallery.

And just like that, my phone went berserk with vibrations.

Comments poured in within a minute.

Ding-ding. Comments and DMs piled up like crazy. Dopamine exploding on top—I was losing it. Double dopamine? Insane!

A few doubters trashed me still, but whatever. Envy and jealousy never felt so sweet. Scrolling bliss, then one comment caught my eye.

"Right, the license. But can I even get one?"

Official state awakener license. Wonder if a cultivator like me qualified. Fingers crossed.

"Do awakeners use mana? Or mental power?"

Mana's the standard for magic. But awakeners aren't just mages. No clue? Time to ask.

"Phew. Dodged a bullet."

Could've ended up a shadowy hermit. With awakeners causing nonstop chaos, unlicensed trouble means heavy penalties—no mental instability excuse. That's what lets folks live normally. Reality? Who knows, but small fry like me buys it.

"Gave me a scare."

No crimes here, no need to hide. Tower happenings? Even nations can't track—electronics die inside. Rely on climber word for clears and loot. Association pushes teams, but...

"Whatever. Lifelong solo here."

Sounds off, but facts. Crazy talent: Qi Refinement 2-star in three days. At this rate, Chuk-gi-gi in a year? Explaining daily gains to teammates? Nah.

—I'm a cultivator. Heavenly Seedling too. Once-in-millennia genius, leveling like mad.

—Human? Crazy? Straight to psych ward.

No thanks.

"Heh. ClimberGallery topped off my dopamine—time to check in at XianxiaGallery?"

Response here was tame compared to reality. Average age? Insane. Pre-Celestial Resonance cultivators start at 500, elders push millennia average over 3k. Casual slang users? Upper Realm natives or long-ascended.

They've got internet culture up there too, huh.

"Casual talk okay tho?"

Galleries are equal-opportunity. Banmal rules. My style. But decorum as proud son of courtesy nation?

Chills from the demonic path folks licking chops after quiet spell. No prejudice tho—life blurs good/bad. "Good" folks turn trash, "trash" do secret charity. That mindset let me take Myeolgeuk's art sans bias, despite Cheongsim's warnings. Creepy's creepy tho. Pretty's better.

"Sticking with this vibe."

Modern Tetonam Choi Do-yul. Bold it is—

Ding.

...Was just heading.

The Tower popped up one day. No warning, one needle-like structure per ocean, visible worldwide. But like another dimension—approach ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all you want, no closer. Missiles? Same. Even longest-range ICBMs crashed en route. Some eccentric US CEO's test satellite? Still orbiting years later. Earth's new landmark.

Defying perspective and physics, folks started calling it the Tower. Also Land of Opportunity, Life-Reversal Jackpot, Golden El Dorado, etc.

Key traits: Enter anywhere if you will it, clear for rewards. So I'd showered piously at dawn and hiked the hills. (Note: Hate getting wet, love being clean.)

"Let's go?"

Downed kimbap and banana milk from the conbini, light stretches. Heart pounding, I declared:

"Enter."

"...Enter?"

"Access?"

"Hello? Anyone?"

Awkward. "Not an awakener, huh... Bummer."

Cultivators apparently couldn't enter like awakeners. Still, Flame Breath unlocked—win.

Vision flipped. Dizzy from inverted world before space ballooned, then collapsed to a point.

"Ugh. Vertigo."

Regaining senses: alien space. Endless stark white...

"Why so white?"

Supposed to drop in a lobby, pick difficulty.

"Discriminating cuz I'm a cultivator?"

Planned Hard run, now sheepish. Let me in, then upsell at least. Rude.

Griping away when a dry voice:

"Holy shit, startled me."

Then pitch black silence. Sensing trouble, pondering escape, surroundings warped.

"...Swamp?"

Dense jungle. Soggy ground, bubbling pools everywhere.

"What now."

"...?"

"...Huh?"

My dream-filled Tower climb was veering off-script hard.