Absolute Sight

The newly acquired skill was absurdly effective. As he read through the text, Do-yun's mouth hung open the entire time.

"An S-rank skill..."

It was a grade that only showed itself past the fiftieth floor of the Tower of Trials. Even the strongest returnee—someone who had climbed as high as the ninetieth floor—had possessed fewer than five S-rank skills in total.

"No. Get a grip."

Do-yun scrubbed his face dry with both hands, forcing the giddy rush back down. Why would the tower hand out a skill this monstrous as an entry reward? It could only mean the difficulty was so high that tossing an S-rank skill out as a welcome gift barely mattered.

Besides, there's no way I was the only one who received something like this.

He rewound the notification that had appeared before the rewards were issued—the one about settling the combat records of the 0th floor. The most likely reason he'd been given an S-rank skill was that his performance had earned it. And there had definitely been people who put on even more of a show than he had. They would have received skills of a similar grade.

"Hoo..."

Do-yun drew a long breath and looked ahead. The skill was one thing, but he still had something important left to do.

"I need to pick a weapon."

Unlike the others who had each carried a weapon on the 0th floor, he had started with nothing but his bare hands. Even if he was going to fight with his fists, a pair of gloves or gauntlets would have been nice.

Light flashed briefly in the empty air, and then weapons of every kind appeared as holograms. On a whim, Do-yun tapped the most basic-looking sword floating at the front of the line.

A system window rose and listed the sword's specs. When he finished reading, Do-yun let out a hollow laugh.

"This is F-rank? Seriously?"

Attack power: 38. That number soared far past the average for a starter weapon. In the returnees' strategy guides, F-rank weapons usually sat somewhere between five and seven attack. Even two-handed heavy weapons rarely broke ten. But more eye-catching than the raw attack power were the special effects.

"This is actually insane."

Damage doubling every time you repeated the same motion. Do-yun furrowed his brow and dug through his memory. The base effect on F-rank weapons he'd seen in the guides only raised damage by a factor of 1.1 when you repeated a motion—a training-aid bonus most returnees dismissed outright. This was different. Two times, four, eight, sixteen. There was room for the multiplier to explode geometrically.

"The system wouldn't misprint the numbers..."

It was ridiculous, but the same kind of distortion had already happened with Bash. Once could be coincidence. Twice made it inevitable. Whether it was because Do-yun—who should have been in the Tower of Trials—had been dumped somewhere else entirely, the rewards seemed to be bugged.

In the end, Do-yun chose the longsword he'd looked at first. Whether attack power and stat bonuses were rolled randomly or not, this one had the highest attack among the weapons available through the F-rank selection ticket.

Higher attack than a mace. That says it all.

The moment he confirmed the choice, color flooded the hologram. A solid, heavy weight settled into his hand.

The quest notification bloomed the instant he claimed the sword.

"Yeah, yeah. Got it."

Do-yun lifted the blade at once and began to swing. His form was as clumsy as anyone would expect from a first attempt, but all he needed was to pad the numbers.

As he flailed the sword around, new knowledge forced its way into his head—the proper grip, a stable footing, the right measure of power. Do-yun corrected his stance and swung again.

Whoosh.

This time the blade cut the air with a sharp, vicious hiss. The leap in skill was hard to believe for something that had taken only a few minutes.

They really are considerate.

The Tower of Trials did not want its challengers dying for nothing. As long as a challenger's will held, the fairies did everything they could to help.

Do-yun rested the sword across his shoulder and looked up into empty air. Enough time had passed while he practiced that a notification had been blinking at the edge of his vision for a while now.

He could no longer ignore the possibility he'd been carefully avoiding. Whose second floor was this, exactly? The second floor of the Tower of Trials, which he had never even attempted? Or the second floor of the Tower of Ascension, into which he had been dragged against his will?

In the end it was a question that would only be answered by seeing it for himself. Standing still wouldn't give him answers, so Do-yun chose to accept.

The familiar weightlessness wrapped around his body. He closed his eyes, opened them—and found himself alone in a gloomy corridor.

The scene before him was one he had heard about from a returnee. A lightless maze. As you advanced, traps would trigger—arrows flying, floors dropping open—and the trial was simply to dodge them and run to the end of the hall.

What is this? Is it the same as the Tower of Trials?

Do-yun tilted his head, then approached the corridor with careful steps. He thrust the sword ahead of him and, without changing his grip, smashed the blade down against the floor.

Clang!

The instant the sword struck stone, an arrow shot from the wall and slammed into the flat of the blade. The speed left no room for reaction; a chill ran down Do-yun's spine.

"Holy— if I hadn't tested the ground first, that would've been bad."

A voice from a smartphone screen replayed itself in his head.

— Here's the strategy for the second floor of the Tower of Trials!

— You all picked a weapon in the Sanctuary Room, right?

— Tap the floor where you're about to step. That'll trigger the traps.

— Once a trap has fired, it won't fire again, so stay calm and move carefully!

Once the Tower of Trials had been officially acknowledged, returnees had begun producing and distributing strategy guides. Reaching higher floors meant greater power, and in a world falling apart, growing the number of allies was an act of goodwill. Most of what Do-yun knew about the Tower of Trials was built on those guides.

He set his foot on the spot he had already struck with the sword—and a cascade of notifications exploded in front of him.

"Huh?"

He looked down and found an arrow rolling across the floor. For a moment the situation made no sense. He had followed the Tower of Trials guide exactly. He hadn't made the idiot mistake of stepping somewhere other than the spot he'd tapped. So what was this notification?

He yanked his foot back at once, but two more arrows had already scraped past his leg in the interval.

"Son of a— they said triggered traps don't fire again."

So freeloading was no longer allowed? Do-yun gritted his teeth and checked the calf the arrows had grazed. The impact had been hard enough to punch through bone, yet somehow no blood flowed at all. That was thanks to the HP system. Without it, the pain alone might have wrecked his judgment.

The guide doesn't work.

His expression darkened. On the surface it looked identical to the Tower of Trials, but a few extra gimmicks had clearly been added. He stood there turning over how to advance, then found a simple solution.

"I just smash everything as I go, right?"

The guides existed for people without power. And did he lack power right now?

"Not a chance."

Do-yun tightened his grip on the sword and grinned.

The next instant, the corridor shook like it had gone mad. Even his bare fists had been enough to whip up a storm. With a proper weapon in hand, the force was earth-shaking.

When the shockwave rolling out from the blade finally settled, the corridor was a ruin. Machinery exposed by shattered walls clattered with grotesque noise. The cracked ceiling shuddered as if it might collapse at any second. In places the floor itself had been punched open.

"Should be safe now."

He swung the sword and hammered the ground a few more times; nothing moved. He set a foot down with a little tension left in his shoulders—and unlike before, nothing happened.

Do-yun strolled down the wrecked hallway at an easy pace, lightly hopping the gaps where the floor had caved in.

If I hadn't known, I'd have walked straight into that.

Beneath the holes, sharp spears stood ready. The traps were the kind that dropped the ground the moment you stepped on them. The shaking of the corridor had already given them away, so Do-yun pressed on with a grimace of disgust.

Whenever he reached a stretch where the traps still stood intact outside the skill's range, he simply swung again and pulverized the whole section. The corridor twisted and writhed as if celebrating. After repeating the process about three times, he reached the end of the hall.

"So I just touch this?"

At the end of the corridor stood a crystal glowing white. The moment he touched it, a new notification appeared.

"What?"

Something felt wrong. Do-yun closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again—and somehow he was back at the start of the corridor. Every broken section had been restored to perfect condition. It felt like waking from a dream.

"What the hell is this garbage..."

He spat a curse, then felt a cold premonition. The unknown energy that had been writhing through his body was gone.

Reading the follow-up notification, Do-yun's face went blank with defeat. He'd been played perfectly. He had never imagined he would have to clear the corridor more than once.

"Hoo..."

He let out a breath and glared down the hall. Complaining wouldn't change anything. If anything, he had coasted a little too hard the first time through.

Think positive.

Did anyone else know about this gimmick? Odds were they had been burned just as badly. Imagine a mage with magic sealed. At the very least, he was better off than they were.

He was just steeling himself and about to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠take another step when a new notification rose in front of him.

"What?"

He froze, staring at the letters, then understood. The text was glowing white. This was a notification from the Tower of Trials. The trial prepared by the Tower of Ascension was still unfinished—but by the standards of the Tower of Trials, he had already met the objective.

Wait. Don't tell me...

His thoughts snagged ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on a single direction. If he returned to the Sanctuary Room like this, what would happen to the trial the Tower of Ascension had prepared?

Almost without thinking, Do-yun reached out—and a brilliant notification filled his vision.