The climb to the 11th floor was suffocating.
The staircase itself was nothing but endless obsidian stone, spiraling upward in eerie silence. Every step we took, the torches lining the walls flared with ghostly blue fire, lighting our path.
The hunters walked in a nervous hush. Without the guild master, their formation felt brittle, fragile. Their eyes darted constantly to me at the rear, where I walked leisurely, humming to myself.
Every time they glanced, they looked away quickly, as if eye contact alone might invite disaster.
Good.
Fear suited them.
When we emerged onto the 11th floor, the air was heavy.
The terrain spread out before us: a desolate wasteland of cracked earth and jagged rocks. Dark clouds churned in the sky, lightning flickering in their depths. The stench of sulfur burned my throat.
And then, the ground shook.
A roar split the air, deep and guttural, rattling our bones.
From the shadows emerged the monsters of this floor—hulking trolls with gray skin like stone, each the size of a small building. Their clubs, made of entire tree trunks, slammed against the ground, shaking the wasteland with each step.
The hunters froze. Their fear was palpable.
Without the guild master, they had no leader.
And yet, their eyes kept flicking to me.
The useless dog who had killed their master.
The lunatic who returned from the forest drenched in blood, grinning.
I met their gaze and smiled.
"Why are you looking at me?" I asked softly. "Fight. Or die. It's simple."
The trolls roared again and charged.
The hunters scrambled, unleashing spells and arrows. Fireballs exploded against troll skin, leaving only scorch marks. Arrows shattered uselessly. The massive beasts swung their clubs with terrifying force, flattening everything in their path.
Panic erupted.
I stood still, Sword Aura humming in my hands. My heart was pounding—not with fear, but anticipation.
This was the perfect chance.
I lunged forward.
My blade sang, wrapped in silver light, and carved across a troll's ankle. The beast roared in pain, stumbling. Its massive hand swung down at me like a collapsing building.
I didn't move.
The club crushed me into the earth.
[You have died.]
[Regression activated.]
[You have acquired the skill of your killer: Stone Skin (D-rank).]
I gasped, staggering back into place. The club never touched me this time. My body was whole again, but different.
Stronger.
My skin felt denser, harder, like stone beneath flesh. The faint glow of durability coated me.
I laughed.
So even trolls were nothing but stepping stones.
I threw myself into their attacks again and again.
A troll's club shattered my ribs—
[Iron Stomach (E-rank).]
Its teeth tore into my shoulder—
[Crushing Grip (E-rank).]
A rock the size of a house flattened me into paste—
[Heavy Strike (D-rank).]
Each death was agony. Bone-breaking, flesh-tearing agony. But each death was also rebirth.
I rose again and again, laughing through the pain, stacking skills like a madman.
The hunters stared in horror.
Every time they thought I'd been killed, I returned, unscathed, smiling wider. Every time they blinked, I was stronger, faster, harder to kill.
"Seo-jin… what are you?" one whispered.
I turned, my eyes blazing.
"I'm someone who wins by dying."
The trolls that had once seemed unstoppable slowly faltered under our combined assault. The hunters struck desperately, their blades chipping at stone hide, their spells burning gray flesh.
And me?
I danced through the carnage, deliberately throwing myself into their blows, dying and regressing, stealing everything they had to offer.
By the time the last troll fell, I was coated in blood, my eyes fever-bright.
The hunters slumped to the ground, exhausted, broken.
I stood tall. Stronger than ever.
That night at camp, no one came near me.
They huddled together like frightened sheep, whispering in hushed voices, sneaking glances my way. Their fear clung to the air, thicker than the sulfur stench of the floor.
And I reveled in it.
For years, I had been the one at the bottom. The one ignored, mocked, beaten down.
Now, I was the shadow looming over them.
They feared me more than the Tower itself.
And that was exactly how it should be.
But when I closed my eyes, I saw it again.
The darkness.
The place between deaths.
The whispers.
This time, they were clearer.
Count.
We are counting.
How many times will you die, little pawn?
My breath hitched. My grin widened.
So I wasn't just imagining it.
Something… someone… was watching.
I should've been terrified.
Instead, my heart thundered with exhilaration.
"Count as much as you like," I whispered into the night. "You'll run out of numbers before I run out of deaths."
My laughter echoed in the darkness, sharp and mad.
And somewhere in the void, I thought I heard laughter answer me.