The Nightwalker's Legacy

Grham thought.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠man before him simply would not fall, no matter how relentlessly he pressed.

Just what kind of world did he crawl out of?

Climbing the Tower of Trials was never something mere grit or stubborn endurance could achieve. It demanded heaven-sent talent—the kind of genius that might appear once across an entire continent, if that. Anything less would never reach the highest floors.

And Grham was one of the few who had clawed his way to that peak through sheer hardship.

"Where do you think you're going without me?!"

A mad cackle tore from his throat as he flung another dagger. To any outsider it might have looked like pure frenzy, yet every single throw was laced with cold, precise calculation—pinning the man's movements, grinding down his stamina, forcing losses one by one.

Against an ordinary opponent the fight would already have been over. Yet Do-yun had not allowed even a single clean hit.

He's far faster than I expected.

In the Tower of Ascension every stat was locked at ten—including Agility. The Do-yun standing before him should have been bound by that same limit, yet he kept moving half a beat ahead of every prediction.

He shouldn't have received a single reward outside the Hall of Fame prizes.

The doubt was entirely reasonable. Grham himself had climbed from the first floor to the fifth without obtaining so much as one reward. Stats and titles were things you earned while ascending the Tower of Trials; once inside the Tower of Ascension they had become nothing more than distant memories. Even now every one of Grham's own stats remained fixed at ten.

Did he somehow receive stats as his Hall of Fame reward?

He shook the fleeting notion away. First place in the Hall of Fame would never settle for so trivial a prize. The rewards he himself carried were already enough to make anyone's eyes widen.

Releasing even a fraction of sealed power meant reclaiming a sliver of the near-transcendent strength he had once possessed. The limitation of choosing only one—skills or stats—still left him more than capable of smashing through most crises.

"Die!"

Even as the thoughts raced, Grham's hands never stopped. The instant Do-yun's blade swept through the air he activated Shadow Step, seized the man's back, and unleashed a storm of daggers.

Now!

He triggered Random Curse Infliction in the same breath and finally spotted the opening he had been waiting for.

Thwack.

One of the carefully crafted daggers from his long-hoarded collection streaked toward Do-yun at blinding speed.

It had once been a masterpiece worthy of an S-rank evaluation, but the Tower of Ascension's restrictions had dulled the blade. Still, the Hall of Fame reward from the third floor had restored a fraction of its original performance.

Once that dagger drew blood, a warrior like Do-yun would have only one option left: endure until he could return to the Sanctuary Room that healed every wound.

"Haha! This is the end!"

But that end would never come. This place was no safe haven; magic circles that drank blood blanketed every surface. The triumphant smile froze on Grham's face the moment he watched Do-yun casually mend the wound.

He should have been limited to F-rank skills. How could an F-rank skill erase an injury so cleanly? And why did a warrior even possess a healing skill in the first place?

"Haah."

Grham lowered his daggers and let out a long breath. Had he known the man was this monstrous he would never have made an enemy of him. Too late now to pretend none of it had happened.

Either you die, or I do.

Only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one path remained. He shattered the Hall of Fame reward he had been saving.

The black orb shattered in his palm. Power long sealed within his body erupted outward.

Krrrrrk—

Of skill or stats, Grham had chosen the release of skills. The moment the strength of his shadow-mastery days returned, the surrounding space darkened and the shadows themselves began to writhe like living waves.

He gritted his teeth, fighting to keep the shadows under control. The power he had wielded at the threshold of transcendence was every bit as overwhelming as he remembered. Yet his body, still locked at the tower's pitiful limits, simply could not keep up.

If my stats were even a little higher this would be so much easier!

All he could manage was to pour the assault onto Do-yun. Even that proved enough. Waves of shadow pressure crashed down as though trying to crush the man flat. The powerful shockwaves erupting from Do-yun's blade were swallowed whole by the seething darkness.

This finishes it!

Grham gathered every remaining scrap of power for the killing blow. The shadows condensed into the shape of a massive beast, jaws yawning open to devour Do-yun whole.

Then light exploded from the man's sword.

Blinding radiance flooded the corridor, shredding the shadows to pieces.

"Gahk!"

Grham coughed up blood with a strangled cry. His guts felt as if they had been turned inside out, yet he forced himself to stay calm and assess the situation.

"What the hell…"

A hollow laugh escaped him at the sight. The shadows were burning from the tips inward, flames devouring them until nothing remained. And in the center of the scorched corridor stood Do-yun, unshaken.

"I lost."

Grham accepted defeat with quiet composure. The sting was far less bitter than he had expected.

"Khahk."

Another mouthful of blood poured from his lips. The clear water that had covered the floor was already dyed a deep, vivid red. In moments the magic circles drank every drop. The last of his life force drained away against his will, flowing along the floor and vanishing into the runes.

"Yeah… this isn't so bad either."

He looked up at the empty air and smiled a bitter smile. Some might call his death wretched, yet to Grham even this felt like a luxury.

What a goddamn life.

From the day he was born the world had overflowed with monsters. Survival meant learning to hide in the dark. Luck had eventually invited him into the Tower of Trials and given him the power to slaughter those monsters, but by then his world had already been ruined beyond repair.

I would have liked to see the world as it was before everything fell apart.

His reason for entering the Tower of Ascension had never been grand. If he was going to rot in a ruined world anyway, he might as well chase the faintest scrap of hope. Compared to collapsing exhausted after hunting monsters until he dropped, this death was something he could accept.

He felt the final thread of life slip free, closed his eyes, and peaceful darkness claimed him at last.

Do-yun looked down at Grham with a faintly bitter expression. No matter how many times he faced an enemy's death, watching a person die never became a pleasant experience.

He pushed through the water and slipped into the pipe Grham had been guarding. A new notification bloomed before his eyes.

Do-yun blinked at the unexpected windfall. On second thought, the reward made perfect sense. Once a passage was opened it never vanished, yet a single defeated guardian could no longer bar the way. Latecomers would simply stroll through and reap the benefits, so the system apparently compensated the one who had cleared the path first.

"The balance really was off."

And the skill he had just inherited was exactly the movement technique he had needed most. Every time he closed the distance Grham would simply slip away again; the man had been endlessly irritating.

With a small thrill of anticipation he placed a hand over the notification.

It could not be used the moment vision was blocked, and it was useless in places without shadows, yet for an F-rank skill it was outstanding.

"Doyun-niiim!"

While he was still examining the skill window with quiet satisfaction, a fairy came streaking toward him from the far end of the corridor. Ciel had been flung far down the passage the instant the fight began.

"Kyaaa! Snap out of it—snap out of it!"

"I'm over here."

She had apparently mistaken Grham's corpse for him. At the sound of her shriek Do-yun leaned out from inside the pipe. Only then did Ciel flutter over in relief.

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine. Let's keep moving."

He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠started walking again. The seventh-floor reward was measured by the time it took to reach the summit. The unexpected overlap with the Repechage had thrown the schedule into chaos, which only made speed more critical.

Before long the pipe itself came to an end. Waiting ahead of them were a set of worn stairs and a broken elevator.

— On the seventh floor you may choose either the elevator or the stairs.

— Choosing the stairs means fighting monsters; choosing the elevator means fighting the environment.

— Climbing the elevator shaft is harder than it looks.

They called it an elevator because it connected the floors, but it bore little resemblance to anything Do-yun knew. Instead of mechanical buttons and a display panel, a softly glowing stone was embedded in the center.

"Too bad—it's not working."

Ciel placed her tiny hand on the stone and pouted when nothing happened.

Which way?

Under ordinary circumstances the choice would have been simpler, but with the Repechage in play neither path could be called safe. While he was still weighing the odds, a new notification appeared.

Twenty-four hours had passed since he last used Remiel's authority on his sword. He had been about to apply it to his armor without much thought when a sudden idea made him pause.

Could I restart the elevator with this?

Clear traces of past use still lingered on the machine. If Reverse could wind the clock back far enough, the long-dead elevator might live again.

He reached out experimentally and discovered the elevator was a valid target—treated as an item, no less.

Let's try it.

Improving his armor a little further would only raise his health. There was no need to play it safer here. He gave a decisive nod.

Before his eyes the ancient relic blazed with magnificent light once more.