The Price of First Place

It wasn't only Subspace.

The skill listed on the second line—Database Access—was just as vivid in Do-yun's memory.

"That was definitely one of Destroyer's skills."

After clearing the second-floor trial, he had watched the footage through the Hall of Fame. He had seen the skill used there with his own eyes.

Scrolling further down the list, Do-yun found another familiar ability.

"Robin."

Robin had loosed arrows as if he owned the very air around him. His archery had been exceptional on its own, of course—but that near-supernatural foresight and spatial control had almost certainly come from this skill.

"So they lined up the skills of every challenger who's already been eliminated."

Do-yun skimmed the rest of the list as well. It wasn't only S-rank abilities; A-rank, B-rank, and lower skills filled the catalog too. The reason for the difference came to him at once.

The Tower of Ascension ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠entry reward.

Every skill and item a challenger brought in had been forcibly downgraded to F-rank the moment they entered. The only thing that escaped that restriction was the entry reward itself.

Do-yun recalled the notification that had appeared the instant he stepped onto the first floor.

The entry reward was determined by a challenger's performance on Floor 0. An exceptional record earned a high-grade skill; a mediocre one earned something lesser.

"S-rank skills really are harder to get than I thought."

Among the long list filling the shop window, only the first three entries were S-rank. It might have been selection bias—these were skills taken only from people who had already been eliminated—but the rarity of S-rank abilities was still a fact.

"What should I buy?"

Do-yun's expression grew serious. He had 15,000 points, and two real options: spend everything on a single S-rank skill, or pick up several useful A- and B-rank skills instead.

A-rank is 5,000 points, B-rank is 3,000…

In theory he could buy three A-rank skills, or five B-rank ones—or one S-rank.

The numbers line up a little too cleanly, don't they?

Finishing the math, Do-yun frowned. Every S-rank skill in the shop cost exactly 15,000 points—the precise total he had earned on the eighth floor.

"That number was engineered. No way it wasn't."

His score this time had come from something closer to a loophole than a fair run. No legitimate method could have produced a haul like that. Even Kaya, who had spent the entire day ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hunting other challengers, had barely cleared ten thousand.

"The shop prices are almost certainly scaled to whatever the first-place challenger is holding," Ciel said, answering the question he hadn't quite asked aloud. Ever since her earlier slip of the tongue, she had steeled herself and was now carrying herself with the stiff formality of a clerk.

"So if my score had been lower, the skill prices would have dropped too?"

"That's the idea. The Tower doesn't demand the impossible from its challengers."

Do-yun pulled up the ranking window he had set aside a moment earlier.

Only the top five names appeared on the ranking window, but any challenger who had earned even a single point would be able to open this shop. So I screwed over every last one of them.

People who might originally have aimed for an A- or B-rank skill were now losing out to price inflation pegged to his score. And first place came with more than just that.

Priority access to the shop. Whatever Do-yun picked first would be gone by the time the next person in line got their turn.

"Not bad."

That meant the next challenger wouldn't even know what he had chosen. Information asymmetry on top of everything else.

"So everyone after me still has to pick from this same list?"

Do-yun rubbed his chin and scanned the skills again. A few of the A-rank options looked tempting, but he only committed their effects to memory in case other challengers grabbed them later. What he was going to buy was already decided.

"I'm taking an S-rank."

Triple the price existed for a reason. Even three A-rank skills couldn't replace a single S-rank. That still left three S-rank choices, though.

First: Subspace. Its greatest strength was pure invulnerability. The way Grham had used it to nullify every attack had left a deep impression.

The downside is the duration, obviously.

Time spent inside Subspace was not infinite. Grham himself had ultimately met his end at Do-yun's hands, after all.

Next: Database Access. Do-yun wasn't entirely sure what it did, but Destroyer's performance on the second floor—never triggering a single trap—gave him a solid guess.

The kind of ability that lets you perfectly recall everything you've seen and experienced.

The second floor was littered with traps. Remembering every one of their locations was proof enough of the skill's power. The drawback was just as clear, though: it offered almost nothing that directly affected a fight.

"Last one is Accel."

He had no idea who had originally owned it, but that hardly mattered. With so many challengers in the Tower, plenty would have washed out on the lower floors without ever drawing attention. That didn't diminish the skill's value in the slightest.

The true strength of Accel was that it placed no restriction on its target. It could speed up the body itself, a weapon, a spell—or something far more particular. The moment he read the description, one skill flashed through his mind.

"Sun Swordsmanship."

With Shiina's help, he had barely managed to complete the first form, Dawn. As he was now, though, he had no way of meeting its conditions. In that sense, Accel might become the key to finishing Dawn again.

They pointed in different directions, but all three skills were worth their S-rank price tags.

"Hmm."

The deliberation ran deep, but Do-yun finally made his choice.

"I'll take Subspace."

Accel was undeniably attractive. Even setting Sun Swordsmanship aside, it was a skill that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could swing entire fights. But Do-yun faced the reality of his situation.

His current mana was far higher than when he had first entered the Tower, but it still wasn't enough to sustain Scorching Sword for even a full minute. Add Accel on top of that, and his combat endurance would collapse to a matter of seconds.

"Pearls before swine, basically."

He had no interest in holding a powerful tool he couldn't actually use. And more importantly, he already had another solution in mind.

From the moment he acquired Sun Swordsmanship on the sixth floor, he had been turning the same problem over and over: was there a way to satisfy the speed condition without relying on raw physical ability? The answer lay in an item obtainable on the ninth floor.

If I can get that scabbard, I can recreate Dawn.

It wouldn't match Accel's versatility, but for that single purpose it was more than enough of a substitute. Which meant his choice had been inevitable from the start.

Database Access suited a mechanical being like Destroyer—someone capable of precise, instantaneous judgment. The skill only meant something if you could parse and apply a flood of information mid-combat. For a human like Do-yun, excess data might just as easily become a liability.

"Besides, I've always had pretty solid confidence in my memory."

Spending points on it simply wasn't worth the benefit.

A soft flash of light, and the shop window vanished the moment he finished selecting. Authority had already passed to the next challenger in line.

What would have happened if I'd just sat on the choice forever?

The thought came late. Common sense said there had to be a time limit—but you never knew. Challengers might get force-summoned to the next floor before they even finished reading the shop window.

"I'll try it next time I get the chance."

Muttering to himself, Do-yun opened the description of his newly acquired skill. Testing the Tower's systems was always worthwhile, but right now his priority was getting comfortable with Subspace before he entered the ninth floor.

A full day passed with startling speed—made even faster by how much he had to practice.

Still not enough reason to skip the early-entry ticket, though.

With a little over thirty minutes left before the ninth floor opened, Do-yun held the early-entry ticket in his hand and lined up his thoughts. Two goals: take first place again with an overwhelming score gap, and secure the scabbard that would complete Sun Swordsmanship in Accel's place.

Preparations finished, he tore the ticket.

He closed his eyes and opened them again—and found himself standing not in the Sanctuary Room, but in the middle of a ruin steeped in a strange atmosphere.

An empty street hit him first. Broken neon signs flickered between collapsed buildings, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the road was littered with shattered debris—robot arms, machine parts, and worse.

A ruined cyberpunk city.

That was the setting of the ninth floor.

Do-yun turned slowly, taking in his surroundings. He was standing in a narrow, dark alley. The walls were stained, and the ground was strewn with every kind of trash—metal cans, spent syringes, and more.

"Ugh, the smell is awful."

Ciel wrinkled her nose and pinched it shut. A rotten stench of unknown origin mixed with chemical and powder residue, stabbing at their nostrils. Do-yun wanted out of there just as badly—until his gaze snagged on a steel trash bin abandoned at the side of the alley.

Lucky.

He strode over and kicked the bin hard.

Clang!

The metal can toppled with a dull crash, dumping its contents across the ground. Startled by the noise, Ciel cried out before she could stop herself.

"Doyun-nim! Even if no one's watching, you can't just go around acting like a delinquent! You have to follow the rules!"

Ignoring her scolding, Do-yun raked through the garbage. It didn't take long before he found what he was looking for and smiled.

A soft gleam. A crystal, faintly luminous, lay buried in the pile of trash.

"Huh? Wait, is that—?"

Leaving a wide-eyed Ciel behind, Do-yun reached out and closed his fist around the crystal. The moment he did, a brilliant notification flared in front of him.

It had been less than a minute since he entered the ninth floor.