Chapter 456: Ninety-Fifth Floor, Phantom of the Predecessor (3)

The rest area, during the events on the ninety-fifth floor.

Ha Hee-Jeong sat with her back to the dining hall, eyes fixed on the plain that stretched before her. A warm breeze drifted across the deep green fields, but it did little to ease her heart.

The ninety-fifth floor was still unfolding.

Kwon Su-Hyeok’s face appeared in her mind. She could only see him when he was facing a trial, but since she had stopped watching after the ninety-first floor, that had been her final glimpse. Even so, his features remained etched clearly in her mind, though never as vivid as seeing him in person.

“

Haaaaaa.

”

With a long sigh, Ha Hee-Jeong lowered her head between her knees. She longed to see him, but dreaded it as well. She trusted him, but watching was unbearable. The contradiction gnawed at her. Part of her felt guilty. Since she believed in him the most, she ought to be standing watch and cheering him on.

The truth was, it stemmed from her previous life.

The Community of the Dead. Those who perished were unable to do anything but watch the remaining climbers. The situation was completely different, but even there, Ha Hee-Jeong had watched Kwon Su-Hyeok. Though only a spirit, her palms had felt slick from sweat, her chest tight as she endured every moment.

Then, Kwon Su-Hyeok died on the ninety-fourth floor.

Though he had already far surpassed his previous self, the memory of that loss remained carved deep into her heart. It was so searing she could never truly steady herself. A single experience, yet it had become her trauma.

He can win. He can do this.

Kwon Su-Hyeok was stronger and more gifted than anyone she had ever seen. The gods he had killed were proof enough. Truthfully, even Ha Hee-Jeong hadn’t imagined he would become this strong. She had always known he was talented, but his gift had proven dozens of times greater than she had dreamed.

Yes, he can do it.

She repeated the thought, but the unease didn’t fade. Whenever she even tried to watch him, her breath faltered. Her trauma was too deeply etched. The stronger her feelings, the deeper the wound.

“What are you doing?”

Alexei had come out of the dining hall. Ha Hee-Jeong had instantly recognized her voice.

“Nothing,” Ha Hee-Jeong deflected, and Alexei didn’t pry.

There was no need—Alexei already understood to a certain extent. Though others wouldn’t see the guilt weighing Ha Hee-Jeong down, they could still empathize. Even in something like sports, where lives weren’t directly on the line, some fans wouldn’t watch out of fear that their favorite team would lose. How much heavier, then, was that feeling in the Tower of Ordeal? Considering her bond with Kwon Su-Hyeok, her anxiety was all too understandable.

To be honest, Alexei herself felt the same. She trusted him, but unease and tension lingered all the same. Because of that understanding, she wanted to comfort Hee-Jeong. Since the ninety-first floor, Ha Hee-Jeong had endured everything alone.

They weren’t strangers. In fact, they had saved each other’s lives.

Alexei sat down at her side. “I want to see snow.”

“Snow? Why that, out of nowhere?”

“Just because.” Alexei smiled slyly. “It was everywhere on Earth. Well, in Russia. I miss it.”

Ha Hee-Jeong nodded faintly. She too longed for Earth, for the quiet life she had left behind. More than most climbers, considering she had been trapped in the tower for far, far longer.

Alexei gently placed her hand atop Ha Hee-Jeong’s. “Well, it won’t be long, right? After the ninetieth floor, the trials have all been short. Ten days, maybe? Soon, Su-Hyeok will come for us.”

Her voice carried nothing but conviction.

From the warmth of her touch and her gentle smile, Ha Hee-Jeong felt an odd sense of comfort. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t told herself before, nothing she couldn’t have thought on her own. However, when Alexei said it, it felt different.

Maybe it is because of the trust we have in each other?

She wondered briefly, then decided it didn’t matter. The important part was that this conversation had steadied her heart and quieted her unease.

Ha Hee-Jeong rose to her feet. “Let’s go watch.”

“What?” Alexei blinked in surprise.

Ha Hee-Jeong extended a hand toward her. “Su-Hyeok. Let’s go see him.”

After a pause, Alexei clasped her hand. It felt warm, steady, and sure. Faith thrived upon bonds—Religions created community for a reason. In that moment, their shared conviction blazed all the stronger.

***

Rumble— Boom!

A blaze of blue-gold light ripped the sky apart. Simultaneously, I hurled myself toward Kalain. For the briefest moment, I thought I saw him smile. A fleeting curl at the corner of his lips.

Was it just a hallucination?

Still doubting my own eyes, I increased my speed.

Hmm.

The lightning had been nothing more than a feint. In fact, I hadn’t expected much. After all, I had copied this technique from Kalain himself. For him to fall for it would have been stranger still.

Despite that, it had worked so far. The timing was what I was focusing on, however.

Will the Heart Sword strike him precisely seven seconds later as I intended?

Apart from the satisfaction of having succeeded, controlling the timing would impact the battle. Only with that accuracy could I stand on equal footing against Kalain. If he could presively coordinate with himself while I couldn’t, then I would inevitably fall behind.

From the heavens, a colossal bolt of lightning came crashing down.

One more time.

I summoned the Heart Sword again. If I could do it once, then I could do it twice.

Kalain swept his sword, shrouded in black energy, skyward. As it pierced the heavens, sparks leapt and currents scattered. The Heart Sword had yet to strike. I pressed harder to close the gap. Our positions mattered little as it would reach him regardless. I just had to disrupt him, leaving him unable to block.

In an instant, we exchanged a dozen attacks.

Precisely seven seconds after I had launched it, the Heart Sword fell upon Kalain. Strangely, instead of retreating, he charged forward.

What?

He hit my axe a half-beat early and opened up just enough distance for him to slide by. The unexpected move had broken my rhythm. I rushed at him again, but with smooth precision, he deflected the Heart Sword. It didn’t surprise me that he had blocked it. However, the way he did so—subtly and deftly—caught me off guard.

So the Heart Sword can be defended that way, too.

Thanks to my contingencies, I reacted faster than I would have expected. I layered my domain and drew upon my causality. Though I still felt sluggish, an unnatural vitality surged through me. Soulbound screamed as it extended.

A razor’s thrust.

The divine horn from the Sea of Lava, and now attached to Soulbound, flared with light. I had long since grown accustomed to its power. Kalain sensed it and stepped sharply aside. From his blade, causality flared in answer.

As expected. He hid some power, as well.

Whether he had gained as much causality as I had, I couldn’t say. Regardless, he possessed some.

The black blade crashed against the flat side of my axe.

Shring.

Even the screech of our weapons grazing was deafening, and the sound reverberated across the battlefield. That couldn’t stop my strike, however. After all, I not only wielded causality but a fragment of a god as my weapon. The horn drove mercilessly into Kalain’s shoulder.

Kalain let out a strangled groan, short and sharp,

“Guh!”

It was the first sound he had uttered since the start of the ninety-fifth floor. Unlike when I had killed Endless Furnace, the blow didn’t leave a grand spectacle. No doubt it was because he possessed causality.

Still, I had undeniably wounded him.

The disparity stemmed from the sheer quantity of causality each of us commanded. Perhaps I had climbed the tower with greater desperation, pressing myself further. To be honest, landing the thrust hadn’t been my true objective.

Kalain lunged in an attempt to distance himself. It was a reckless and direct attack. I let him do it. A beat later, the Heart Sword I had loosed while running crashed down upon him.

That signaled a shift in the momentum.

***

Kalain flicked his wrist with terrifying speed, meeting Kwon Su-Hyeok’s Heart Sword with his blade and deflecting it. His footing wasn’t stable, so the defense was far from perfect. The backlash forced his own sword into his shoulder, but even wounded, he didn’t falter. For him, attack was defense, and he embodied that creed as if his life depended on it.

His tattered cloak flared unnaturally, its ragged ends lengthening as if alive. They curled around to ensnare Kwon Su-Hyeok.

What the hell?

Caught off guard, Kwon Su-Hyeok barely registered Kalain’s tail lashing toward him. His axe was locked against Kalain’s sword. The instant he raised his leg to block the tail, Kalain’s jaws opened wide.

A serpentine tongue rippled out, and from deep within his throat, a torrent of black fire infused with causality erupted. It was monstrously fast.

Roaaaaar!

The breath surged forth from point-blank range, and Kwon Su-Hyeok immediately raised a barrier, but from behind him, the cloak rushed in like a tidal wave. Rather than remain in a contest of brute force, he swung his axe, shredding the cloak and tearing an opening.

Fire consumed him, blasting him backward.

Thud!

He tumbled and spun as he flew through the air. At the same moment, Kalain’s cloak rippled, shortened, and then snapped taut.

Teleportation?

Before Kwon Su-Hyeok could even blink, Kalain had crossed the void. His blade lunged straight toward Kwon Su-Hyeok, who still hung helplessly in midair. Kwon Su-Hyeok struck at Kalain, but the blow lacked its full strength.

Clang—!

An explosive metallic clash rang out. Seeing a fleeting gap, Kwon Su-Hyeok sent lightning toward Kalain’s flank. The cloak moved to intercept, but the current slipped beneath its half-torn right side.

Sparks flared violently. Kalain stiffened for a heartbeat, and Kwon Su-Hyeok rolled across the ground to regain his stance.

Though Kalain remained expressionless, his demeanor gained a flicker of anger, and the air itself trembled under the force radiating from him. The trial had only just begun, but Kwon Su-Hyeok sensed that a decisive moment was incoming. The battle would soon reach its climax.

That thought barely formed before Kalain closed the distance. Kwon Su-Hyeok idly mused that intense moments didn’t stretch endlessly, unlike what stories constantly spouted. Kalain was simply there.

His sword cleaved a black arc through the air. Even with Flash Strike, his sheer speed and strength were overwhelming. Kwon Su-Hyeok reflexively swung his axe downward.

Clang!

Kwon Su-Hyeok missed the mark and tumbled across the ground. His forearm seared as Kalain’s memories and emotions surged into him. Barely resisting their pull, Kwon Su-Hyeok steadied himself. He layered Flash Strike twice more and widened the distance.

“Damn it, even after injuring him with the horn, he doesn’t even flinch,” he cursed, though in truth he had gained the upper hand in the clash.

Outwardly, they had traded equally, but Kwon Su-Hyeok had landed three decisive strikes—once with the horn, another with the Heart Sword, and finally with lightning.

Although it wasn’t immediately satisfying, the damage was done. Wounds accumulated even if they didn’t impact Kalain now. Kwon Su-Hyeok stared Kalain down. Fully armed, Kalain demanded that he prepare for assaults beyond expectation. He had already been caught once by the cloak.

Despite its ragged appearance, it possessed myriad functions—attacking, spatial leaps, and even defense. The rest of his equipment no doubt concealed other powers.

I never managed to get a cloak like that.

Kwon Su-Hyeok thought bitterly, but he conceded it was all down to luck, and it wasn’t like it would have mattered. Four thousand years separated their climbs, and even if he had obtained such equipment, the tower had forced him to throw away all of his gear.

He was beginning to understand the disparity their equipment made. Unfair as it felt, it wasn’t entirely disadvantageous. Sooner or later, Kwon Su-Hyeok would have to face Kalain for real. Better to experience even his past self than to enter the fight blind. At the very least, he now had some grasp of Kalain’s abilities.

In that sense, he could almost thank the tower. Perhaps this trial had been crafted to sharpen him.

I can endure this much.

Victory wasn’t in sight yet, but there was at least a path to it. As he deflected Kalain’s sword, Kwon Su-Hyeok wrestled with his thoughts. Unfortunately for him, Kalain pursued him relentlessly, releasing strike after strike.

Kwon Su-Hyeok still hadn’t used his full strength. During training, he had stumbled upon a way to forcibly awaken latent power. However, it had a price: a permanent strain upon both body and mind.

What should I do?

An answer quickly came to him. Even with Flash Strike at maximum, Kalain was pushing him back. Gathering every power he possessed—causality, divinity, and mana—he accelerated them through his internal circuits.

His strength left him momentarily. Usually, mana depletion would send him collapsing to the floor, but the storm coursing through his circuits held him upright, a power born from consuming both flesh and spirit, clinging to the edge of ruin.

Once the energy dwindled, he would fall unconscious, and he would suffer permanent wounds.

It was the only way to pierce Kalain’s defenses.

Lightning burst forth from Kwon Su-Hyeok’s entire body, blazing into a storm of incandescent fury.