The Broken Dog Tag

The swordsmanship the ghost displayed was superb.

The blade’s trajectories were beautiful, and the mana work woven through them was overwhelming. Yet the conclusion Do-yun reached as he watched was simple.

In the end, it’s just a way to dump mana onto the enemy more efficiently, isn’t it?

Every motion existed to smother a foe in the crimson mana produced by Scorching Sword. From the first form through the fifth, the techniques might as well have been built for that single purpose alone.

“So the real star is the mana from Scorching Sword.”

If a more efficient method existed, there was no real need to take the shape of a sword style at all.

Crunch.

Do-yun’s foot slammed into the ground. His sword, loaded with the force of Bash, tore through the air with fifteen times the impact. That overwhelming power made the red mana leap up like sticky fluid.

Whap.

Crimson sparks scattered from the tip of his blade, rode the wind, and blanketed the ogre’s face with perfect accuracy.

“GRAAAAH!”

The ogre screeched and clawed wildly at its own face—a far cry from the creature that had casually batted every attack aside until now. The other challengers around them did not miss the opening.

“Nyahaha! Finally showing that soft, tender meat!”

Kaya charged first, a savage laugh bursting from her throat. Countless others followed in their own ways. The ogre’s face, stripped of its defense by Do-yun’s burning mana, made an especially fine target.

Papapapak.

Kaya’s hands blurred; blood sprayed as her claws shredded the monster’s face. Blinded, the ogre was no longer something to fear—just an oversized sandbag.

Shrrrk.

Someone’s grappling hook snared its head and wrenched it downward. The air grew heavy and crushed the ogre’s whole body. Ice magic locked into its joints and fouled its movement. A talisman flung by a martial artist in a dogi slowly ate away at its life force.

“GRAAAAH!”

The ogre instinctively braced against a nearby building wall, but under the relentless storm of attacks it could not recover its stance.

BOOM.

At last that massive face slammed into the dirt, and spears, blades, flames, and magic poured down like an artillery barrage. Watching it, Do-yun let out an involuntary note of admiration.

“Looks like they actually practiced for this.”

None of the people here had ever coordinated before. Yet warriors who had reached a certain level read the flow of the battlefield so well that they moved like a single, well-drilled team.

KABOOM!

There was no opening for Do-yun to force his way in—and no reason to dive into that chaos. His first strike had already dealt more than enough damage.

The notice had been hovering in the corner of his vision for a while. Because the creature filled something close to a final-boss role, the contribution points awarded for killing it would be split by participation.

That archer’s nowhere in sight.

Even amid the flood of different attacks, he saw no trace of the uncanny arrows he had witnessed earlier. The man couldn’t have died already, so he must have slipped into hiding the moment he spotted Do-yun. Revenge, it seemed, would have to wait a little longer.

Before long the giant body toppled and dust billowed upward. Because he had taken no further action after the opening strike, his contribution had dipped a little—but even so, the haul of points was enormous.

“So the gate threat’s finished with this, then.”

Do-yun muttered under his breath as he eyed the broken wall. A twin-tailed girl with a hammer was already racing over to repair the collapsed fortification. Once that was done, the sixth-floor trial would end.

What exactly did I see back there?

The answer to that question lay with the old man he had met earlier. That excessive obsession with the Empire… The elderly knight named Halleon had clearly known the sixth floor’s background. He hadn’t merely known it—he had even activated the magic circle that injected the memory of Sun Swordsmanship.

“The Tower of Trials never had a hidden piece like that.”

Countless people had entered that room. Yet neither Jeong Se-ah nor anyone else had so much as mentioned the magic circle’s existence. Accidentally overlooking it was impossible. Only Halleon had known the condition required to trigger it. Guessing why he alone was special was not difficult.

He’s a native of the world that serves as the sixth floor’s backdrop.

Why climb the Tower of Ascension after conquering the Tower of Trials all the way to the end? That question had lingered in Do-yun’s mind for a long time. Wealth, honor, power—even immortality—could all be obtained by finishing the Tower of Trials.

“But you can’t save a world that’s already been destroyed.”

Do-yun’s gaze turned bleak. Earth was in a similar state, so he could not dismiss the thought lightly. Monsters pouring from empty air day after day. People thrashing desperately to preserve social infrastructure. And returnees whose numbers only dwindled with time instead of growing.

They said finishing the Tower of Ascension grants one wish.

To Do-yun, who had been thinking only of survival in vague terms, a single clear goal took shape: climb the Tower of Ascension to the very top and claim that wish ticket.

Not long after Do-yun clenched his fist, the world before his eyes flooded white and he returned to the Sanctuary Room. The moment his senses settled, a tiny figure latched onto his face.

“Doyun-niiim! You’re alive!”

That familiar voice. It was Ciel, from whom he had parted while passing through the castle gate. She nuzzled her cheek into his chest as if she still could not believe it, then jerked her head up and cried out.

“Doyun-nim! I thought something terrible had happened! How could you leave the barrier like that?!”

“Why? Was I not supposed to go out?”

“Of course not! They didn’t put up a barrier for fun!”

Ciel scolded him at length. If he had failed to return inside the barrier before the trial ended, he might have died outright—or suffered something worse than death, like having his body fused with a monster’s.

Is that really the whole story?

Had they sealed it to hide the gate’s existence? Do-yun filed the possibility away for now. There was still far more he did not know about the Tower.

“Never do anything that dangerous again!”

Her voice trembling on the edge of tears, Ciel held up her pinky. He could have coldly refused and swatted her hand aside, but Do-yun snorted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a quiet laugh and raised his own finger to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠meet hers.

Yeah. What would she even know?

No need to take his frustration out on a low-ranking fairy. They would be together for a long time yet; planting a bad image served no purpose either.

Squeeze.

After they linked fingers, Ciel’s cheer returned at once.

“Anyway, great work!”

She spun in a full circle like a little dance. At some point a party popper had appeared in her hand.

Pop!

With a bright crack, multicolored sparks burst right in front of Do-yun’s eyes.

The notification windows sent by the Tower of Trials were displayed by the fairy. Now that Ciel was with him, she could even control the timing.

“Here you go!”

Ciel held out a wrapped gift box. When he untied the ribbon, he found a carefully nestled catalog inside.

An F-rank necklace selection ticket. Unlike weapons and armor, which were relatively easy to obtain, accessories of this sort were extremely rare. Do-yun opened the catalog at once.

Despite the somewhat defective-sounding names, the actual effects were extremely useful. All hail the bug.

I just got a new skill, so should I push my mana pool higher? Or invest with the longer term in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mind?

Just as Do-yun was about to sink into pleasant deliberation, his gaze stopped on one particular item.

The performance itself was not bad, but there was no compelling reason he absolutely had to choose it either. Ciel did not seem especially keen on the recommendation…

“Ciel. What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it says! It’s not pretty!”

When he looked over, Ciel’s cheeks were puffed out. She lifted the remains of the gift box in both hands.

“This is a present from me, so please pick something prettier! There are plenty of other options!”

It’s a reward from the Tower of Trials, not a gift from you.

The reasoning was a little absurd, but he could not completely ignore Ciel’s point. Things that looked flashy often had better performance as well. By that measure, the dog tag was a dud in more ways than one.

That emblem looks familiar somehow.

Even so, Do-yun’s instincts felt a fateful pull toward the dog tag in front of him. The flame motif engraved on it—searching his memory, he soon recalled where he had seen that mark.

The ghost. When he inherited Sun Swordsmanship, that same emblem had been drawn on the ghost’s clothes.

Come to think of it, there was a special effect related to that.

His gaze dropped to the sword at his hip.

An option added when he used the authority of Reverse on the rusty longsword. The dog tag’s description never mentioned the Empire, but sharing the same emblem was more than enough to suggest a connection.

Let’s try picking it.

An option added when an F-rank item was upgraded to C-rank. He still had little sense of what “Imperial Army equipment” actually meant—but if this dog tag could trigger the set effect, the benefit would outstrip any other accessory he might choose.

Metal weight settled against his fingertips. The moment Do-yun carefully hung the dog tag around his neck, the system responded at once.

Not a flat value—percentage-based growth. At the appearance of a ratio buff that only grew more important at higher specs, Do-yun called up his status window for the first time in a while.

When he first entered the Tower of Ascension everything had been pitifully bare; now quite a lot had been added.

“Wait—what’s going on with this, though.”

Do-yun frowned at the numbers on the status window. The leftmost values were his base stats; the next were the stats provided by his weapon. That meant the final figures in parentheses should be the stats added by the Standard-Issue Gear set effect—yet the numbers inside looked wrong.

Percentage-based growth is supposed to calculate from base stats.

No matter how he looked at it, the parenthetical numbers assumed the weapon’s stats had been included as well. Fingering the dog tag at his throat, Do-yun quietly smiled. This was hardly the first time the system had pulled something like this; he could read it by feel by now. He was still calculating how large the advantage would become when another notice stole his attention.

Hall of Fame rewards provided by the Tower of Ascension. As always, he would choose one of three options: the Rune of Glory, the Rune of Evolution, or the Rune of Resurrection. He had no idea when that lineup would ever change. Maybe after the tenth floor they would start offering something else?

A first-world problem, I guess.

There were people who would kill for even one of these. Someone like Robin would probably try to put an arrow through Do-yun’s skull on the spot if he saw this.

“And what’s this supposed to be?”

Checking the reward granted for four consecutive first places, Do-yun let out a murmur of admiration. An Early Entry Ticket. Exactly as the name said, it allowed him to challenge the next floor thirty minutes early. Escaping the penalty of starting simultaneously with everyone else and acting freely for a full half-hour was an enormous advantage. Do-yun slipped the ticket-shaped Early Entry pass into his clothes, then stroked his chin as he examined the three rewards.

This time Do-yun chose the Rune of Evolution. Taking another Rune of Resurrection after already using one was not a bad idea, but facing the ogre on the sixth floor had slightly shifted his thinking.

I need even more overwhelming force.

He had believed Bash alone would be enough—that pure destructive power would never leave him blocked by a wall. That arrogance had crumbled in front of the ogre. This was the Tower of Ascension. Blind faith in what he knew of the Tower of Trials would only get him killed. The higher he climbed, the more unknown changes might wait.

“Extra lives mean nothing if you can’t break through a crisis.”

The Rune of Resurrection contributed nothing to permanent growth. What Do-yun needed was not a life that let him survive a crisis once—it was the power to smash that crisis to pieces.

“Control over flame.”

Light sank into the longsword in Do-yun’s hand, and a new option appeared at the edge of the status window: Flame Affinity (S). The reason he had not chosen sharpness or lightness was simple—so he could handle his newly acquired skill more effectively.

He poured mana into the blade and kindled the flames once more. The sensation that met his fingertips was different from before. The flow of fire felt far smoother. At this rate, he might even be able to reproduce part of the forms the ghost had demonstrated.

Whoosh.

Do-yun began to move, tracing the memory. A long while later, a notice of achievement rose before his eyes.