Chapter 446: Ninety-Third Floor, The Swamp of Time (2)

[Escape the world. Time remaining: 2 seconds.]

I let out another sigh as I triggered Flash Strike. The trial had reset once more.

This was my eighth attempt. I had wasted the first in panic, spent the second organizing my thoughts, used the next four to check the four cardinal directions, and when that failed, I devoted my seventh attempt to searching for a hidden lifeform.

After scouring the entire area with lightning, I confirmed there wasn’t anything living nearby. The strike had consumed nearly all of my strength, including both causality and divinity. Even if some creature possessed an extraordinary power of concealment, it should have left at least a trace. Unless it had been hiding far, far away.

If that were the case, I had no way of finding it now. I would have to leave that possibility for later.

Hmm.

Purely in terms of elapsed time, fourteen seconds had passed. At last, a faint sense of unease began to gnaw at me. If I only had ten respawns, then, counting this one, I had merely three left. When I had organized my thoughts during my second loop, I had believed in my plan and had thought I would find the answer quickly.

In reality, every attempt had left me with only a mounting sense of futility. The trial was simply too vague.

Still, that means I should have more than ten chances, right?

Unfortunately, I couldn’t be certain—nothing could be guaranteed. I exhaled inwardly. Just as I had feared, a feeling of impatience was creeping into my mind.

Maybe I would feel better if the number of chances were visible?

No. There was no reason to grow anxious so soon. The tower always gave trials that could be cleared, so a solution definitely existed. Surely it would grant me enough attempts to do some basic exploration through trial and error. I repeated this belief to myself and steadied my mind.

Move calmly, just as planned. One step at a time.

If I rushed and overlooked something, it would worsen my chances of success.

For now, I can cross off outrunning the eruption or discovering a hidden lifeform.

It would be far too risky to continue investing effort into those ideas. If either were correct, but in a completely separate region, it would be hopeless anyway. Regardless, it was time to focus on another solution, and finding a hidden portal was next on my list. The eight pillars near my spawn point stood out.

Let me start with the stone pillars.

Since searching an endless wasteland would be impractical, I decided to check the few visible structures first. I kicked off the ground and rose into the sky. From a suitable height, I gazed down at the barren land. Ignoring the timer, I observed it carefully and calmly.

Hmm.

Unfortunately, I didn’t find any distinguishing pattern. They varied in size and appeared irregularly placed. I had checked just in case, but by my judgment, they were merely natural formations. Still, more confirmation was necessary, especially with my lack of magical expertise. I considered simply smashing the pillars, but I decided on infusing them first.

Hopefully, my mana reveals something.

If they were magical constructs, they would respond to mana regardless of my skill.

The number of attempts isn’t tied to them, right?

It seemed unlikely. There were more pillars in the distance, though they were too far away for me to worry about them just yet. I covered the nearest ones with my mana, probing rather than attacking.

Nothing.

I tried using my divinity next, then causality—nothing changed. The stone pillars didn’t form a magic circle.

Swinging my axe, I sent a torrent of crackling lightning cleaving through the air. All eight pillars shattered at once, and their fragments drifted slowly downward. The result was as anticlimactic as before.

I can’t tell if eliminating unlikely possibilities is progress or not.

In the end, the stone pillars weren’t anything special. With some time to spare, I started looking for a hidden portal. I descended to my spawn point and began extending my senses underground.

After coming up with nothing—again—it looked like I would have to search by hand. I drew a shovel from Mung-chi and began to dig.

During my time in the army, I had been forced to dig many times, but this was incomparable. Every one of my movements carried causality and divinity, and each stroke of the shovel demolished the ground.

The explosion would erupt from right below me.

Is there a connection?

It came from deep below me, however, so even if I dug, I doubted if I could reach that far.

Regardless, I continued digging, but, surprise, surprise, I found nothing. It felt sufficient to leave it at that, so I shifted my gaze toward another patch of ground.

Thud.

I felt the swell of an immense force as a tremor surged up from deep underground. In the next instant, a pillar of fire erupted before my eyes.

***

[Escape the world. Time remaining: 2 seconds.]

This was my ninth attempt.

As the message renewed, I immediately activated Flash Strike. There was no need to pause and rethink, as I already had a plan.

Replacing Soulbound with a shovel once more, I placed myself into the optimal digging stance and began furiously doing just that. Clearing around my spawn point, I never once allowed my movements to slow.

Hmm.

At first, I tossed the soil to the side, but after realizing it was inefficient, I called out, “Mung-chi! Swallow all the dirt!”

Because of Flash Strike, the soil lifted by my shovel fell back sluggishly toward the earth. Clearing it later would be a nightmare. Responding quickly, Mung-chi opened its black maw and gulped down the falling soil.

I had no idea how much time passed. Each stroke carved a hollow into the ground, and before my time was up, I had managed to excavate much of the area.

Yet still, it didn’t reveal anything.

That really was pointless.

This continuous lack of progress was starting to disappoint me.

From the pit, flames surged upward once again. The message refreshed, and the world reset. My tenth attempt had begun.

As I triggered Flash Strike, I immediately turned my gaze to Mung-chi.

“Mung-chi, do you still have the soil you ate just now?”

“

Kkyu!

”

it chirped adorably, then gagged.

To its surprise, nothing appeared

So whatever Mung-chi consumes vanishes as well?

Well, of course. When I placed Soulbound into the mimic, the reset always returned it to my hands. I had thought the swallowed soil could provide a hint, but that hadn’t happened.

Anyway, this was now the tenth chance.

This may be my last one.

Although I believed there would be additional respawns, it wasn’t guaranteed. I was starting to feel uneasy. Steadying my nerves, I organized my thoughts. Of the methods I had brainstormed during my second attempt, three were already eliminated.

Running away, searching for hidden portals or lifeforms, and examining the stone pillars.

My last remaining hypothesis centered around this being an illusion. Although a simple notion, I had left it to the end because testing it felt the most difficult. Even with skills that allowed me to resist illusions, I hadn’t sensed the slightest discrepancy. Of course, when something was an illusion, the intent was for it to be unnoticeable.

It could be a high-level illusion crafted specifically to allow suspicion, though.

If so, discerning the truth would be beyond me—it could even take multiple attempts. Because the chance of it being an illusion seemed low, I had prioritized other methods first. Unfortunately, this was all that remained.

I had hoped that in the process of trying the other possibilities, a new idea would occur to me. Sadly, with the suffocatingly short time and all my focus bent on survival, no such inspiration had surfaced.

If this isn’t it, then I will simply have to rely on luck and repetition.

It would be a vicious cycle of running in every direction, searching for some checkpoint, exit, hidden lifeform, or portal. While exploring would be easy enough, looking for an invisible, untraceable, and unknown entity wasn’t.

Fine. Time to confirm whether this is an illusion or not.

Considering that my senses hadn’t notified me of anything during any of my attempts, I wasn’t hopeful.

How many chances shall I spend testing it?

I dismissed the thought immediately—I would only allow myself one attempt. I couldn’t afford to sink wholly into the possibility of illusion. Moreover, while debating whether this was an illusion or not, I could even test out my other theories.

It will be troublesome if the escape method changes after every respawn, though.

The likelihood was low, but non-zero. If the tower gave me a hundred attempts, from its perspective, that should be sufficient odds for me to clear the trial at least once. Or perhaps the escape method changed every three attempts.

Sensing myself spiraling, I cast off the anxious thoughts again. The more I worried, the more tangled my mind became. For now, confirming whether this world was an illusion took priority.

Hmm.

I didn’t have a clear method of detecting whether or not I was trapped in an illusion. Up until now, I had relied on sensing an oddity, some subtle misalignment. Here, there was nothing.

Even so, if this truly was my last chance, I had to keep calm.

Closing my eyes, I gently roused my mana and divinity before releasing them. Not forcefully, but like a natural outward flow, brushing against the world itself. It took an immense amount of effort, forcing me to concentrate to the extreme.

Time slipped past as I searched for the faintest rift, the smallest incongruity. However, as expected, nothing revealed itself. After what felt like forever, the engulfing flames snapped me back to awareness.

Please. Let there be another chance.

That was my last thought as the firestorm consumed me.

***

[Escape the world. Time remaining: 2 seconds.]

By some miracle, I respawned again. Following the same old pattern, I triggered Flash Strike, and only then did I exhale in relief.

Good.

It was good, but uncertain. Even with another chance, how was I supposed to escape if I couldn’t figure out how?

I was fairly certain it wasn’t an illusion, and the methods I had prepared had all been tested. The fact that there was an eleventh attempt suggested that there would be more, but I needed ideas.

Before blindly throwing myself into the trial again, I traced the brief message once again.

[Escape the world.]

If spatial travel is forbidden, then how am I meant to escape the world?

A thought suddenly struck me. Perhaps it meant it in the most literal sense.

Have I simply overcomplicated things until now?

Reflecting on it, the answer could be deceptively simple.

In the end, a world is still a planet.

On Earth, one could escape a planet by boarding a spacecraft and breaking through the atmosphere. I had no spacecraft, but I had something else: an inhuman body. I had run forward, back, left, and right, but never once had I considered going upward.

Does exiting the atmosphere count as escaping the world?

I immediately kicked off the ground and hurled myself into the sky.