Constellation Gallery (2): First Climber Joins the Gallery lololol
「Constellation Gallery's First Climber Enters lololol」
「The Tower's finally come to its senses!」
「But of all things, it had to be Madness difficulty— we're fucked lol」
「But the kids dragged into Madness all had some insane talent tho」
「Yeah yeah, welcome mayfly」
「???: I can do it… if it were me!」
Contrary to my worries that they might shun an ordinary climber, the constellations were mostly welcoming my arrival. Good news. Conversations only happen when both sides are interested, after all. I had nothing to offer them right now, but I desperately needed their help. To get even a little support, I had to at least spark a reaction like, "This kid's interesting."
The other climbers weren't much different.
Paradoxically, that meant info on constellations was scarce. Trade secret, you could say—like those success seminars you buy off the shelf. They share how to get sponsorships, but the crucial details on the constellations themselves? Barely anything. Ask what a certain constellation likes, and you could count the people who know on one hand. Can't have new rivals stealing their attention, after all.
I wasn't sure how much merit I had compared to other climbers—just some guy dragged into Madness difficulty—but anyone who'd cleared even the 1st floor of Madness had at least one constellation contract. I'd just branded myself into their minds, so I could probably snag something decent.
But there was one tiny problem.
"Whoa, the post refresh rate is insane…."
With bored constellations suddenly fixating on the gallery, posts were exploding at an absurd pace. Read one, hit refresh, and it was already two pages back. Was this really the firepower of a 100-member community?
+99
The flood of handshake requests from floating constellations made me not even dare touch the comments. Read one, get ten more. In this chaos, any question post I made would get buried instantly. I tried timing it for a lull in uploads, but these gallery addicts with superhuman stamina showed no signs of tiring.
Only after the admin's control kicked in could I finally have a proper chat. Even before I could reply, another comment dropped.
"Awakening ability, huh…."
Come to think of it, something was off. It'd been a full day since I got dragged into the Tower, but I'd never seen a single awakening message. Was the Tower just buggy by nature? Me, a plain climber, accessing the Constellation Gallery was already bullshit anyway. Maybe the notification just didn't pop—don't overthink it.
I opened the status window like the admin said.
"Whoa… I'm fucked."
Season N disaster. No time to mope—the status window that appeared was a catastrophic void. A status window should show status, right? This was just a window. Empty enough to use as inventory.
I poked around hoping for hidden stuff, but no nonexistent powers magically appeared.
"Still gotta do what I gotta do."
Constellations might know the answer. Click! I screenshot the (non)status window with the capture function and attached it to my reply.
This reaction? So, instead of getting something normal when dragged into this shitty Tower, some insane bug hit and I got nothing. But I do have an ability: the badass one to gallery with constellations.
I glanced at the people dangling in midair.
"Hmm…."
Not that bad yet. My mental fortitude had gone nuts since entering the Tower. A grown adult doesn't bawl like a baby over tripping on the street—stuff that would've crushed past me was no big deal now. Guess it buffs you some since you gotta fight monsters. How thoughtful.
Bzzz—. While waiting for the admin's reply, metaphysical characters suddenly floated on the waiting room ceiling. Like billions of red worms wriggling through the air. Tearing through them emerged a massive bloodshot eye.
I was overwhelmed by the irresistible aura. But in the blink of an eye—gone. In that split second, I saw a colossal serpent climbing an enormous tree. My head screamed to flee that gaze, but somehow I stared at those characters. Like someone utterly captivated.
An endlessly irrational, transcendent power without limits… one that could twist the laws themselves. An inscrutable force. Tower effect? I knew instinctively: closest to shamanism academically, outpowers magic. Unmistakably magic.
My head felt like it would explode. Blood tears streamed. Yet I didn't look away or close my eyes. Like spotting an oasis in the desert—mesmerized.
One eye met my two. I couldn't comprehend even fragments, so I burned the raw forms into my mind. Until the characters scattered and the eye vanished beyond the ceiling.
Two notifications pinged. Comments on my first post. Checking, they flickered red then vanished.
I could glean unwritten rules from old posts, but the gallery's oldest were over 300 years back—a minor issue. Met these ancient monsters, huh. Constellations don't age, apparently. Anyway, not the time to leisurely browse. Best ask now.
The admin was friendly toward me. Maybe somewhere between indifferent and lazy. I memo'd Order/Neutral next to her nickname. Fit her admin role. Great metric for floating constellations.
To answer, I finally accessed the Madness Gallery I'd been putting off.
Enter Madness Gallery?
Hit yes, and my vision went grayscale like a game paused. In the lifeless scene, only the blue window had color.
…
Stop. Writings from utter despair. So messy and bleak, extracting info would take forever. Latest post seemed from a 9F Strategy er—personal diary with Strategy logs mixed in. Follow that for Strategy.
I had zero climbing power now. No electricity from hands like others, no regression on death. Pure hardcore survival, one coin from permadeath. Pointless hunting info I can't use yet.
At least useful stuff exists—good enough.
Admin left, comments flooded back.
One ancient constellation's comment ignited the sword-vs-spear debate.