Ranker
Challengers in the Tower of Trials fall into three broad categories. Ordinary folks kidnapped by invitation letters and dragged in against their will, those climbing the tower to become hunters, and rankers.
There's no official ranking system, so there's no clear-cut way to distinguish who qualifies as a ranker. Generally, though, the community labels as rankers those assault team challengers who've been camped out on the tower's upper floors for the long haul. And the bus drivers stationed on the three floors that define the tower.
Floors 25, 50, and 75. Each floor in the Tower of Trials has its unique flavor, but these three are called floors in the system and get special treatment. No separate labyrinth zones—just a lone guardian boss that vanishes once cleared. You can't hop back and forth via transfer gates like on other floors; only special methods let you cross.
That's why bus drivers don't push beyond their floor. They haul newbies up to wherever they're parked.
"He's a low-floor ranker residing on Floor 25. He's gotten really famous lately..."
According to Kim Jin-ah's explanation, Choi Gil-hyun—who'd just drawn his spear right in front of me—was one of the weaker rankers, a low-floor type. But you couldn't underestimate him just because he was low-floor. Being a bus driver pulling challengers up to Floor 25 meant he could smash bosses below that with ease. He probably didn't solo clear like me, but he had the chops to lead underleveled scrubs through Floor 24.
"J-Jin-hyeok, what do we do?"
What do you mean, what? No other options here. I shoved Kim Jin-ah and the party members back through the crowd closing in, then raised my shield and sword.
Playing solo gave me an edge—even on Floor 6, I was way stronger than your average Floor 6 climber. But the same applied to him. A ranker parked on Floor 25 would out-spec a typical Floor 25 challenger by miles. Higher level, better gear, no question. Just look at his little brother sprawled out there, decked in overkill plate armor and an axe.
"Yeah, my bad," I said to Choi Gil-hyun, who was gripping his spear and fuming.
"Your little shit was camping the dungeon entrance, and when we said we were going in, he started trash-talking."
No room for talk on his face, but I threw it out there anyway. The response was predictably shitty.
"So you soccer-kicked my brother in the face? Trash-talk? You learn that from some random nobody?"
"Nah, but looks like your brother learned it from you."
"Shut the fuck up, you piece-of-shit cunt. I can tell you're just some high-level noob bitch. You're not walking out alive today."
His brother's personality was a trainwreck, and big bro seemed no better. Talking it out was a bust.
I could've dodged the fight and smoothed things over here, and it might've worked. But after taking more trash-talk, I wasn't planning to just roll over.
Holding a spear, his class was probably the rare Spear Knight. Among warrior rare classes, it had the most stable, powerful skills—super popular. Which meant the community was flooded with info on its key skills.
He wouldn't spam them openly and show gaps, but good to keep in mind.
Spear, huh. In close-quarters fighter duels, reach makes a huge difference. His spear outranged my sword and shield by a mile, and I figured his physicals were superior. Hell, he was taller, longer arms too. Little bro was shorter than me—guess he hogged all the nutrients.
I knew spear arts myself, so pulling one out wasn't a bad idea. But against a real Spear Knight, my half-assed skills might flop. Better to infight with my trusty sword and shield.
"Die!"
Face beet-red, Choi Gil-hyun thrust his spear. As expected, his specs were solid—blazing speed and power. But overexcited or underestimating me, his form was sloppy.
I angled my shield to deflect the tip and stepped in.
No way I could tank a full-power thrust head-on.
Skreee!
Sparks flew as the blade glanced off at an angle. Even a graze like that packed a punch—ranker confirmed.
Inside his spear's range, I lunged for his side.
Light gear? Maybe under-equipped or prefers mobility—unlike his bro's heavy plate. My stab should sink deep.
Thud!
But he leaped back, dodging. Not just strength—agility stats were high too.
Why backpedal, though? Keeping distance for outboxing since he didn't know my class or skills? Smart way to leverage his weapon.
That exchange probably showed him I wasn't a pushover.
But his next move blew past my expectations.
"Fuckin' bastard!"
No outboxing—instead, same cursing, same sloppy charge.
What the hell? I sidestepped the identical thrust. Even as I flanked, he didn't adjust trajectory or sweep the shaft. Momentum carried him two steps forward, like he couldn't stop.
His temple wide open from overcommitting—I bashed it with my shield.
Crack!
High defense—felt like smacking a rock. He staggered, twisted, and thrust again.
His blade glowed blue. I knew the skill: Spear Buster, three-hit thrust combo.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Couldn't just eat a famous skill telegraphed like that. I sidestepped again, swinging my sword at his neck instead of shield-bashing.
His armor wouldn't let it sever, but it'd hurt.
"Gack!"
Blade clipped his windpipe; he flopped back but sprang up, same exact stance.
Wait, does this fucker only know how to thrust like that?
No way. He's a ranker.
"Haaap!"
Shout, slightly different thrust. I dodged sideways; this time he swept wide for my flank. But it felt more like swinging a staff than a spear. Not awful, but meh.
Why was this guy so bad at fighting?
A few minutes of exchanges, and I had my answer. This fucker was trash.
Something felt off from the first attack, but I chalked it up to rage. Nope. His skill was abysmal.
After facing tons of skilled spear-wielding lizardmen, I could tell. Spear Knight didn't suit him—Spear Technician at best.
Ranker physicals were strong, but spear handling? Laughable. Mid-tier lizardman grunt level, maybe? Quick reactions from high agility let him land sharp hits sometimes, but overall, still grunt-tier.
Even for low-floor, this as a ranker? Worse than our party's holy knight wielding a hammer like a wand or the dual-wield freak ditching his shield. Watching those two, I wondered why they sucked—but apparently, that passed for decent among challengers.
And his fighting stance was garbage from the jump.
Crack!
I stomped his ankle hard as he charged like an idiot. His footwork crumbled—he lost balance and faceplanted.
"Are you retarded...? Who fights wearing fucking insoles?"
Thought he was tall compared to his bro. Insoles in his boots—thick ones. Subtract those, and he's probably shorter than the kid. More like self-driving shoes at this point.
"Hah... huff... fuck... you little... shit..."
Charging with all his might, eating endless punishment—he was on the verge of collapse. Dust-caked, still spewing curses.
"Mouth."
Clang!
Smashed his crown hard. Once I clocked his true level, I sheathed my sword and grabbed something else. In my hand now: a mithril wand from Floor 1. Useless for a warrior like me, so it'd moldy in inventory. But light, tough mithril made a perfect club against his tanky ass.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Like xylophone mallets on keys—Choi Gil-hyun offering his skull. Onlookers, serious at first, started smirking at the helpless ranker getting clubbed. Too scared of backlash for belly laughs, but a few bold ones giggled, snapping system screenshots.
Community probably had a "[Live: Floor 25 Ranker Humiliation.jpg]" humor post up by now.
As a fellow dude, watching his ego shatter live was kinda pitiful.
"Y-You motherfucking... your mom's a whore... fuck... shit..."
Habitual trash-talk mid-beating? Hand just swung.
"Mouth."
Clang!
That day, Choi Gil-hyun's pic racked up 300 upvotes on the community.