Tower of Trials, 6th Floor
I peeked into the community for Tower of Trials 6th Floor, and already a ton of info had spilled about the upcoming festival. Word was, there'd been endless debates about how the 4th Festival would go down. Apparently, the one from three years ago was this massive worldwide thing called the Grand Festival, so everyone was arguing whether this one would be another Grand or just a regular one linking players from the same country.
And now that the details were out, the winner was the latter. The 4th Festival was just a standard one, like the 1st and 2nd. Didn't matter to me either way.
Anyway, the festival event had four big draws. First: special mini-dungeons you could tackle in parties to farm the main event currency.
Second: event-exclusive items you could exchange that currency for—the Meteorstone gear everyone's buzzing about in the community. It's special equipment made from materials you can only get during events, no equip restrictions, and top-tier performance. I'm not sweating gear much these days, but something this limited? Kinda intriguing. "Limited" is a hell of a seductive word.
Third: a battle tournament where challengers duke it out. Pass. I'm stronger than same-level scrubs, but not compared to real rankers who've been grinding the Tower for years. Sure, the top dogs who get A-rank spots guaranteed on exit sit those out of courtesy, but a level 50 normal-class warrior like me? No shot.
Finally, fourth: indirect trades and item imports via production-class challengers from other servers. Challengers can pick non-combat production classes too—like blacksmiths with smithing skills, alchemists brewing potions, jewelers crafting accessories. Gear they make blows drops or shop stuff out of the water.
And one shared feature: custom orders. You hand over materials, they craft or enhance for you. The kicker? It works even in event maps where direct trading's blocked. Got materials? You can snag top-shelf gear from artisan producers on other servers.
And I've got enhancement mats and gold coming out my ass. Nail the connections right, and I could score lifelong gear. Problem is, I'm a zero-social NEET who hasn't talked to a human in years.
"Hmm..."
Maybe drag an NPC over and practice chatting? **
I wrapped up my thoughts, closed the open community, and started moving toward clearing 6th Floor. Even if I wanted dialogue practice before the festival, it's impossible here—6th Floor's notorious for zero normal NPCs.
The whole floor's one massive labyrinth. More undead than living folks, and the NPCs that show up are all bonkers from wandering the maze too long. Yeah, not exactly a spot for sane long stays.
"This fucking sucks."
Haven't hit monsters or traps yet, but the mood's already shit. Just breathing pulls in rotten stink. Like food moldering in the fridge for two months. Plus gross stains everywhere—get close, and each wafts a fresh rot: vomit from some drunk pigeons pecked at, mixed with sporadic blood.
I've rolled in enough guts and blood to ID that metallic tang easy.
-Grrr...
A few minutes in, first enemies: zombie pack, source of the maze's rot. Community warned they were nasty, but this? Beyond imagination. No wonder challengers rank 6th Floor top hellholes.
Ugh, fuck, look at those dangling eyeballs. And each zombie's decay and damage is unique—personally grotesque. Gotta smash 'em quick just to clear the sight.
-Thud!
I charged the pack sword-and-shield-first. Could do 'em barehanded, but no way I'm grappling that filth.
-Crack!
Shield-bashed the front one's skull to pulp, thrust my sword through the next's neck. Heard somewhere smell's the first sense to fatigue. After dropping two, mine was half-numb—no more rot.
-Slash!
Sliced two more throats, ignored the crit effects bursting out, targeted the last in back. Needed sword mastery levels, so skill time: Double Slash, cross-slashes in two swings.
Blade glowed, body auto-moved into the attack. Then—zombie's neck was bulging huge. Posture like it was about to hurl.
Fuck, no way, right?
-GURRRRRAAAAAAGH!!!
"You fuck!"
Massive blood geyser erupted from its throat. **
No 6th Floor monster list in community had this pattern. Probably another quantity-limited unique exclusive to my solo tower, extinct elsewhere.
But what the fuck—this ain't an arcade classic. Why blood vomit?
-Splatter!
Enough blood to make you wonder where it stored it all. Mid-skill motion, I couldn't dodge—drenched head to toe.
Rotten zombie stink mixed with fresh blood, stabbing my nose. Hell, straight-up in it. Fucking hell.
-Slash!
Skill finished anyway—the spewer got diced. First mobs being zombies sucked enough; one with this bullshit? Luck's dogshit.
Gimme something punchable like a minotaur, or fresh slime. Wouldn't kill ya.
"Ugh, shit, what reeks?"
I shook off the blood irritably. But my face kept burning where it splashed.
-Sizzle...
What the—acid blood? Or poison? Pierced the resistance I built tanking poison arrows on 3rd Floor. This shit's potent.
Got antidote potions in inventory, no wounds for deep penetration—just wash it off.
"Hmm."
Poison strong enough to breach my resistance... tank it, won't my tolerance climb higher? Not like 6th Floor mobs threaten me doused in it.
Why not wear it and grind? Only downside: constant rot reek. But smell fatigues fast. Body might absorb the stench, but I'm not here for a beauty contest.
Whatever. **
The zombie's blood puke was vicious poison, as expected. Dug up old 1st-gen hunter posts: one hit could kill.
But my 3rd Floor grinding nerfed it to just stinging. Makes sense—I used poison arrows like utensils. White-rolls straight-dipped-and-eaten.
Anyway, perfect chance: I'd stick on 6th Floor longer, max poison resistance.
Floor's huge, tons of treasure chests to farm. Like 1st Floor, devour every sub-quest for specs, daily poison grind.
Finally hit the point where chugging a full blood puke's fine.
Regional Integration Event: Tower of Trials Festival is commencing!
You may move to the public server via the portal.
The long-awaited festival hit, blue portal spawning before me. But I didn't jump in.
"Gotta wash up first, right?"
A month caked in blood and poison? I'd reek. Stroll in like this, some challenger mistakes me for a mob and swords me. Honestly, that'd just be natural causes.