The Emperor's Inheritance

More than a few people had harbored doubts about the Tower.

What exactly was the Tower of Trials?

Why did it reveal itself at the moment of ruin and press power into their hands?

Yet those who dug deep into such questions were rare.

Because the time you can spend on each floor is limited.

Even after the early returnees spread their clear strategies, the number of people earning S-ranks barely increased. The Tower's trials demanded talent as well as knowledge. Most people were too busy clawing for even a slightly higher grade within the allotted time.

"Did you know? The backgrounds inside the Tower aren't just scenery."

"Everyone was too focused on the trials to notice, but if you look inside the buildings, there are traces that people once lived there."

"My theory is this: the settings that appear inside the Tower are other worlds entirely."

Still, a minority moved differently—analyzing the Tower's structure, excavating the trial backgrounds. Some of them even put forward claims that sounded almost plausible.

So that was real?

Only now could Kim Do-yun feel it in his bones. Perhaps the world that formed the backdrop of the sixth floor had also been destroyed by a Gate. And if so, then his own world…

A low, grinding roar cut through his thoughts. Ominous energy bled from the Gate.

Right. Right now he needed to focus on the fight.

A massive hand burst from the rift. The forearm, muscle compressed like forged steel, looked harder than iron. Bulging veins mapped the skin and radiated pure pressure. Even the orcs had stood a full head taller than Do-yun, yet the monster before him existed on another plane entirely.

"…An ogre."

Danger rank: red. City-level annihilation threat.

The ogre that had forced its way free of the confining Gate threw its head back and unleashed a liberating roar that threatened to rupture eardrums.

Do-yun swung his sword at once, intending to strike before the ogre even registered him.

"Krk."

In the next heartbeat he realized something was wrong. The space where his blade had cut was already empty. One step—just a single step backward—and the ogre was staring down at him with a mocking expression.

"Seriously? You're that huge and your reaction speed is still this ridiculous?"

The wry laugh had barely left his lips when the ogre's arm shot toward him. Do-yun yanked his sword back to intercept—

KRA-BOOM!

The instant fist met blade, his body rocketed backward as if he had been hit by a truck. He never even had time to draw breath before he slammed into an orc.

Thud!

The orc crumpled without so much as a scream. That was only the beginning. Boom! Crack! Crunch! Do-yun's body flew in a straight line like a living cannonball, punching through successive packs of goblins. Only after dozens of monsters had served as living shock absorbers did he finally hit the ground.

"Son of a—!"

He clenched his teeth and planted a hand on the dirt. Miraculously the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠longsword had not been torn from his grip; he clamped trembling fingers around the hilt. Without the durability reinforcement, the blade would have shattered for certain.

The notification floating before his eyes meant the Rune of Immortality had triggered. One blow had nearly sent him across the river of the dead.

"Cough!"

Dust scraped his throat. His stamina was already in tatters. The ogre's fist itself had been blocked by the rune, but the subsequent collisions with every monster along the flight path had left him covered in wounds large and small.

It was on another level. The golem that had been the fifth floor's hidden boss had been comparable in size, yet the golem's fatal flaw—slowness—did not exist in the ogre.

While Do-yun restored his health and settled into a stance, the distant ogre did not move an inch. That was the leisure only an overwhelming superior could afford—as if inviting him to try whatever he liked.

Tactical retreat for now.

This was a creature that required the concentrated firepower of dozens of missiles just to kill. No matter how broken Do-yun's skill coefficients were, he still needed more growth before he could compare himself to carpet bombing.

No—why the hell is something that only appears past the thirtieth floor of the Tower of Trials popping out here?

He had thought it strange that the monsters stayed so uniformly mediocre despite the crowd of challengers. Apparently the competition systems of contribution points and the Hall of Fame were not the whole story.

Do-yun carefully edged backward. Once he confirmed the ogre still showed no intention of moving, he spun and sprinted toward the walls. Fortunately the ordinary monsters still had not noticed him.

The alert flared while he ran. A chill raced down his spine; he ducked instinctively, and an arrow hissed past his ear.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Sniping him on top of everything else? He looked up at the wall. A man holding a massive longbow stood there. Guessing why ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the man was hostile was easy enough. Anyone could see that Do-yun alone had gone outside and vacuumed up contribution points. If Do-yun disappeared, everyone ranked below him would climb a step. That was more than enough reason to push a man already in crisis.

"Is he not even scared of the system?"

Even so, Do-yun could not understand it. He still remembered perfectly what had happened right before entering the sixth floor.

Remiel herself had posted that warning through the system window. Anyone who had seen it would never dare such reckless harassment.

He dodged another arrow and the forgotten fact clicked into place: the warning had only been given to those who had appeared on the Hall of Fame at least once.

"So that guy's just some nobody who never even made the Hall of Fame."

Do-yun muttered the insult, but it did nothing to improve his situation. Failure to reach the Hall of Fame did not mean the archer's skill was anything less than terrifying.

Thwip!

An arrow buried itself in the dirt right in front of his sprinting feet. He assumed it was a simple warning shot—until the tip struck a buried stone and ricocheted upward, flying like a dagger straight for his heart.

"You crazy—!"

He twisted on pure reflex; the arrow grazed his neck. Far too deliberate to call coincidence. And it was no coincidence. The instant he twisted, another arrow was already in flight as if the archer had predicted the motion.

I can't dodge this one.

Balance already broken by the desperate movement, Do-yun flung his left arm forward on instinct.

The forearm he raised like a shield caught the arrow, but the impact wrecked his posture even further.

Whiiish!

A third arrow. This one's trajectory was wrong from the start—carving a sinuous curve through open air, coming from outside his field of vision. It was not a guided missile; he had no idea how such a shot was even possible.

The arrow punched into his back from the blind spot. The opponent was designing the battlefield. Terrain undulations, Do-yun's movement line, reaction speed—everything factored into the shots. The arrows were no longer mere tools for striking an enemy; they had become walls that herded and constrained Do-yun's every step.

"Kh!"

He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠batted another shaft aside and thought: at this rate he was dancing exactly to the archer's tune. He needed a breakthrough that would let him escape the script.

Just ignore everything and charge straight ahead?

Trusting First Aid's recovery and sprinting blindly was possible. In fact it was the simplest and fastest solution. But Do-yun shook his head. Reaching the inside of the walls would not end the problem. He had no idea what else might be waiting; he could not afford to burn mana this early.

He needed a method—something that could close the distance in a single bound.

"Screw it."

He squeezed his eyes shut and poured the power of Bash into his feet. Bash was a skill that amplified impact force. If he timed it right, couldn't it produce an effect similar to a leap? The idea was roughly the same as detonating an explosion spell underfoot for acceleration, but he was in no position to be picky.

KRA-BOOM!

He slammed his foot into the earth. Explosive recoil hurled his body skyward.

"Ah."

The force was greater than expected. Far greater. Ignoring gravity, Do-yun soared past the height of the walls and continued climbing into open sky. Feeling the wind on his cheeks, he looked down.

The man who had been loosing arrows at him this entire time—Robin—stared up with his mouth slightly open, clearly never having imagined this development.

Their eyes met for a perfect instant.

Do-yun furrowed his brow and muttered under his breath.

"Just wait, you bow-wielding bastard."

Robin's face hardened; his hand groped at his waist for a fresh arrow, but it was already too late. After that brief encounter Do-yun's body plummeted.

KRA-BOOM!

A tremendous impact raised a cloud of dust. Gasping roughly and clutching his head, Do-yun recalled the glimpse he had caught just before the fall and tried to guess where he was.

The top floor of the inner keep?

Jeong Se-ah's words flickered through his mind.

"You all know there's an inner keep on the sixth floor, right?"

"Did you also know there's a secret floor you can't reach by the stairs?"

"If you press the right bricks here and there, a path to the top opens up."

Normally one would have to climb step by careful step from below, but Do-yun had dropped out of the sky and skipped every procedure.

"Once you get in, safety is basically guaranteed!"

"Whether it was built as a shelter for the lord or the nobles, even monster invasions can't touch it."

"If you're not confident in a fight, you can just hold out here."

The sixth floor of the Tower of Trials was simply about surviving until the time limit ended. The safe zone Jeong Se-ah had discovered had become a light of hope for countless people.

Since I'm already here, I might as well rest and recover some mana.

Having faced first an ogre and then a master archer, his mind was swimming. Above all there was the Gate—he had been about to continue thinking about the rift he had seen earlier when something odd caught his eye.

Isn't this a little too luxurious?

Contrary to everyone else's testimony that the room was plain and clean, the scene before Do-yun was extravagantly ornate.

A low hum. A colossal magic circle dense with complex ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠patterns. Unrecognizable characters packed every surface, and by pure chance he was standing at the very center where those circles overlapped.

"You—you thieving bastard! Get away from there this instant!"

A sharp, aged shout snapped him fully awake. He was not alone in the room. The ordeal he had just survived had delayed his detection of another presence.

That old man from earlier.

The face of the man shouting at him was familiar enough—the elder who had gone into hysterics the moment he saw Do-yun's sword up on the walls, ranting about empires. Even now the old man's sword arm trembled with rage.

"That is a secret art prepared solely for the citizens of the Empire! An outsider like you has no right to meddle!"

So what exactly was he so angry about this time? Do-yun was about to let out an irritated sigh when the magic circle beneath his feet erupted in brilliant light.