The Rune of Immortality

Do-yun paused for a beat before the meaning finally clicked.

Unlike the last time, when everyone could freely pick what they wanted, this choice of his would strip second through fifth place of any say at all.

"Not bad."

The corner of his mouth lifted on its own.

"First, lock down the Rune of Glory."

That thing was genuinely dangerous. If monsters like Kaya or Jin Cheon-woo got even ten minutes of their prime restored… Do-yun could easily die twice over in that window.

"Which leaves the Rune of Evolution and the Rune of Resurrection."

The Rune of Evolution still stung as a missed option. He was still stuck with an F-rank weapon, after all.

In the end, Do-yun chose the Rune of Resurrection again. It was hardly a bad call. Extra lives were the sort of thing you could never have too many of.

A low hum answered him. Just as he moved to tuck the newly materialized Rune of Resurrection into his coat, something unexpected ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠happened.

The rune he already carried and the one he had just obtained began to resonate with each other.

"Huh?"

Curious, Do-yun pressed the stones ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠together. The two Runes of Resurrection wove into one another and melted into a single light.

A flash.

In a brilliance bright enough to make him squint, a new rune took shape.

A double-S reward. Something that, even if you brought only one back from the Tower of Trials, could buy you treatment on the level of state power.

Even Do-yun had trouble staying calm for a moment.

"Holy hell."

Losing two separate resurrection chances was a little disappointing, but what he gained in exchange was better still.

"It can block a fatal hit…"

For all practical purposes, that was another resurrection. And if the conditions were met, it could even be reused.

Do-yun kept muttering under his breath. He had never imagined identical runes could fuse and upgrade like that.

With a flutter of anticipation, Do-yun stepped into the next floor. If he fused one more Rune of Resurrection into this… maybe he could push it all the way to the triple-S-rank items that only lived in rumors.

"A scarecrow, huh."

Do-yun rolled his wrists and loosened his joints. Under normal rules, a scarecrow's HP sat at 100. Drop that to zero and the trial ended; any excess damage decided the clear rank.

"How is that a scarecrow?"

A dry laugh slipped out of him before he could stop it. A scarecrow usually meant a doll stuffed with straw. The texture of the figure in front of him was nothing of the sort.

That's metal.

A gleaming construct stood there as if daring him to try breaking it.

"Who said I can't?"

Do-yun raised his sword into a high guard.

The blade came down without mercy. A perfectly straightforward cut—but when it carried overwhelming force, a simple cut became a disaster of its own.

KRAKOOOM!

It was the same strike that had shredded the second-floor corridor into rags. Do-yun had every reason to feel confident. One blow, and the scarecrow would be split clean in half.

Ssssss…

When the dust settled, what remained was a scarecrow without so much as a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠scratch.

"Huh."

Do-yun's face tightened. He hadn't expected to land nothing at all.

"Something's off."

He tried Bash again. Nothing changed. The aftershock of the swings whipped his clothes and hair into a frenzy, yet the steel scarecrow stood there, serene and unmoved. It had no expression, but it felt like it was laughing at him.

"Hoo. This isn't going to work."

Two failures were enough to accept the truth. Do-yun let the sword hang and sank into thought. What the hell would it take to smash that thing?

When you think about it, Bash isn't actually that strong.

A fifteenfold damage multiplier was impressive, sure—but only by F-rank standards. You didn't even need to climb to S-rank. Plenty of A-rank skills already offered tenfold amplification and more.

A wall he was always going to hit eventually. He had simply run into it early.

"If Bash alone won't cut it, I stack something else."

Instead of pouring Bash into it in blind desperation, he dug through the other damage multipliers he still had left.

Another special effect bound to the worn longsword. The reason Do-yun had never triggered it until now was simple.

"The conditions are ridiculous."

The standard for "the same motion" was brutally strict. Swing direction, foot placement on the ground, the timing of an inhale, the exact arc of the descending blade—everything had to line up almost perfectly. Returnees had mocked it as a training tool for a reason.

Too finicky to use in a real fight.

And even after all that work, a normal F-rank weapon only got a 1.1× multiplier. Nothing worth celebrating.

"But in a situation like this, I can use it."

Not a shifting battlefield that changed by the second—just a fixed target that sat still and waited to be hit. Under those conditions, firing the special effect wasn't hard at all.

Do-yun planted his feet wide and raised the sword. Then he brought it down from high to low.

CLANG.

A clear, ringing note as metal met the scarecrow. Do-yun didn't stop. He swung again from the exact same stance.

Paaht.

The grip settled more snugly into his palm, and a cleaner tone sang from the scarecrow. Having mapped the mechanism, Do-yun drew the sword back. This time he loaded Bash into the swing and struck once more.

KUUUNG.

The shockwave rattled his whole body. A moment earlier he would have quit here and lowered the blade. This time he lifted it overhead again.

The sword's special effect doubled the previous hit's damage—and that already included the amplification from Bash. In plain terms, the blade now carried roughly thirty times his base attack power.

Do-yun stacked one more layer on top.

Thirty times, times fifteen. A blade loaded with nearly four hundred fifty times his base force came crashing down on the scarecrow.

BZZZT.

The overcharged sword shuddered violently, scattering waves of force, but Do-yun clenched his teeth and steered the edge true.

KRAAAAAANG!

Metal screamed against metal. A hemispheric shockwave rolled out, making every wall in the chamber shudder. Floor stones fractured into spiderwebs; razor-thin vibrations left ripples hanging in the air.

CRUNCH.

Even a scarecrow couldn't walk away from that. Its head split open as it toppled backward, and a notification window bloomed above the wreckage.

Do-yun kneaded his tingling arms and stared at the Hall of Fame. How had the others even come close after a near-bug amplification like that?

Skimming the recordings, he let out a sigh.

"Ah. I'm an idiot."

It had never been a pure power contest. While he had hammered the head over and over, second through fifth place had all aimed for the scarecrow's solar plexus. That was its weak point.

A brief pang of regret for never even thinking to look for a weakness—then a snort of laughter at the thought that followed.

"So what?"

So he hadn't found the weak spot. And? He was still first. With enough raw force, a minor mistake could be ignored and results still delivered.

Three straight first places had unlocked one more privilege. It was exactly what he had needed; a soft exclamation slipped out of him.

"Private recordings…"

The Hall of Fame was a double-edged sword. Superb items on one side, your information broadcast to everyone else on the other. The penalty was steep enough that some people deliberately passed on the rankings. Being able to hide that data was a massive advantage.

"What do I pick for the reward, then."

Taking another Rune of Resurrection was still very tempting—but Do-yun's gaze dropped.

Crack.

A hairline fracture, visible even to the naked eye, had spidered across the blade. True to the name "worn" longsword, the weapon had not survived a strike past its limits.

"At this rate it'll actually snap."

He was half afraid that one wrong touch would break it clean in two. Losing his weapon was not a possibility he could even entertain. His choice was already made.

A stone that shone black. Its surface looked as unstable as cracked glass, yet the light flickering inside hinted at something extraordinary.

Do-yun pressed the black stone to the worn longsword at once.

"Durability enhancement."

The black stone sank into the longsword as if melting, and the fracture lines slowly filled themselves in. Do-yun gave the blade a few experimental swings and smiled in satisfaction.

An F-rank armor selection ticket. Do-yun used it without a second thought. After skimming the options, he settled on a leather set.

His reason for choosing it was simple again. Highest HP stat on the list, and a solid damage reduction value on top.

With a soft rustle, leather armor layered itself over his clothes as if by magic. Modern streetwear under plate-and-hide looked faintly ridiculous, but appearances were the last thing he cared about.

Next is the end of the tutorial, then.

Do-yun rolled his shoulders, testing the armor's flex, then looked up into empty air with a tight face.

In the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Tower of Trials, the tutorial ran through the fifth floor. From the sixth onward, the word "trial" meant what it said—a demonscape of matching difficulty.

And on the fifth floor, you can meet a fairy.

The one hope that might help him walk a proper path through the system. The thought of meeting one soon made his breathing quicken on its own.

"Hoo."

Do-yun drew a deep breath, moved his hand—and an entirely different landscape unfurled before his eyes.

Ssshhhhh.

Wind rolled through, and reeds bowed with it. Do-yun stood in the middle of a reed field washed in brown light.

The fifth floor was a sampler of how trials would work from here on. A wide-open field in every direction. Rewards shifted depending on the approach a challenger chose.

Obviously I hunt that monster here.

While he was still laying plans, Do-yun's pupils blew wide at something that had no business being present.

"……Hmm."

"Ahaha! I didn't see this coming either."

"Many. Lifeforms. Danger."

People in wildly different gear stood not far from him, watching one another with open wariness. And Do-yun knew those faces well—he had been watching their recordings only moments ago.

Heavenly Demon Jin Cheon-woo.

Gale Kaya.

Destroyer.

The ones he had sworn, over and over, to avoid on sight if he ever ran into them.

They were standing in the same place as him.