Chương 93: “Bark to the Start”

The development of Summit City had vaulted into a new era. Nobody knew that the transportation system was the start of it all. What had begun as a network of routes connecting the outer districts to the city center had turned into something larger. The roads brought people, and with them came demand. Merchants followed shortly after. Within a just few weeks of the system's expansion, the commercial districts near the Tower's entrance had transformed.

Storefronts that had once been empty, dying, or used for general trade, were now occupied by businesses that catered specifically to climbers. Weapons shops had been the first to appear. Smiths who had previously worked out of their homes or shared forges now operated dedicated storefronts with display racks lining the walls. Swords, spears, axes, maces, daggers; bladed and blunt, ranging from cheap training steel to professionally forged pieces with reinforced grips and weighted pommels.

The middle and higher-end shops even offered custom work, where a climber could bring in materials scavenged from the Tower and have them worked into a weapon suited to their fighting style. Armor and equipment stores followed shortly after. Leather jerkins, chainmail shirts, reinforced bracers, greaves, helmets with padded interiors. For those who preferred lighter builds, treated cloth wrappings and flexible plating were available.

Climbing-specific gear filled the shelves as well: rope, pitons, torches, fire-starting kits, insulated cloaks for the cold floors, sealed waterskins, ration packs with extended shelf life. But the shops that drew the most attention were the ones selling spatial bags. A spatial bag looked like an ordinary satchel or rucksack from the outside. Leather, canvas, or treated hide, depending on the quality. What made them valuable was that the amount they could store was multiple times what they actually looked.

The interior of a spatial bag was larger than its physical dimensions allowed. A large bag, slung over the shoulder, could carry enough supplies for a full party's week-long expedition into the Tower without the weight becoming unmanageable. The enchantment that made this possible was not new. Spatial magic had existed for decades. But producing it in a portable, affordable form that an average adventurer could purchase was recent.

The bags came in tiers: the cheapest offered a modest increase in internal volume and were priced within reach of any working climber. From there, the cost scaled with capacity: mid-tier models could hold equipment for a full party, while the high-end versions stored furniture-sized objects. Only established guilds and wealthy solo climbers could afford those. What mattered even more was the currency. These new shops, nearly all of them, though they accepted coins, also traded in magic stones.

The stones harvested from monsters inside the Tower were now the primary medium of exchange commercially. Why this was the case, nobody knew yet. Most adventurers, happy to have a direct use for the stones they were already collecting, did not complain as the exchange was more beneficial to them. The economy of Summit was shifting, and most people were too busy spending to ask why. Over the past week, Arthur and his party had been focused on clearing Floors 11 through 14.

Arthur's competitive spirit had been lit again. The combat elective, the second-year who had beaten him without trying, and Celestia's performance afterward—he had not forgotten any of it. He trained harder and pushed further than before, spending more time on the icy floors than his party was comfortable with. The results showed.

His previous stats had been modest: — Stats: Strength: H | Dexterity: F | Speed: H | Wisdom: H | Aura: F — Special Stats: 2 — Active Skills: 2 — Passive Skills: 4 Now, after a week of relentless work on the ice floors, his status had changed. —Stats: Strength: F | Dexterity: E | Speed: F | Wisdom: H | Aura: F —Special Stats: 3 —Active Skills: 3 —Passive Skills: 6 The jump in Dexterity alone would have taken most climbers at least half a year at minimum. And yet, Arthur had done it in weeks.

He was strong enough now. At the very least, he could match the second-year student who had put him in the dirt during the combat elective.

"Arthur! We're done with our trials, the door's this way." Serena's voice carried across the frozen plateau from the mouth of a cave. Arthur was standing in the middle of the blizzard. His upper body was bare. His shirt and jacket were folded in a pile near a rock roughly twenty meters from where he stood, and the snow had already begun to cover them. His sword was in both hands, and he was mid-swing when Serena called out, the blade cutting through the wind at chest height. He had been out here for over an hour.

The skin across his shoulders and arms was red, and the cold had numbed everything below his elbows. He firmly believed, now more than ever, that he had to push himself through every opportunity the environment offered, no matter how reckless it looked. Training in a blizzard while half-naked was stupid, but Arthur did not care. At the sound of Serena's voice, he finished the swing, sheathed the sword, picked up his clothes, and jogged toward the cave. The wind hit his back the whole way.

By the time he ducked inside, his teeth were chattering. Eryndis, sitting against the cave wall with her legs crossed, threw a rag at him without looking up from her drink. It hit him in the chest.

"Thanks!" Arthur caught it and started drying himself off. Eryndis yawned. Serena stood near the cave entrance, arms crossed, her face noticeably red. She looked at Arthur, then at the snow melting off his shoulders.

"Jeez, why train in the snow?" She pulled another rag from her pack and threw it at him, harder than necessary.

"Put something on." Arthur wiped himself down and wore his shirt. It was damp from the snow that had piled on it while he trained, and the fabric clung to his skin. The jacket was worse, half of it was stiff from where the snow had melted and refrozen. He shrugged as he put it on. Normally, he would have asked Liana for a change of clothes. She had always been the one to think of those things. Extra layers, dry socks, a spare undershirt rolled into a compact bundle at the bottom of her pack.

That was just what Liana did; she prepared for everyone, because nobody else bothered to, and she never complained about it. But when they were on Floor 11… He had come back from a training session in the snow, soaked through from the waist up, and asked Liana for dry clothes as though it were the most natural thing in the world. She had looked at him with a glare The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Did you seriously not think to pack your own?" she had said.

"Who am I to you? Your mother?" Arthur had stood there, dripping, with nothing to say. Serena had gone quiet. Even Eryndis had looked up from whatever she had been doing. Since then, he had not asked again. And because Arthur kept forgetting to prepare such basic necessities as extra clothing, the kind of thing that simply did not occur to him until he was already wet and freezing, he had continued entering the Tower with only the clothes on his back and a jacket.

Thankfully, though, Liana still prepared other things for the party: food, medical supplies, fire-starting materials, the basics. But the personal errands, the small acts of service that she used to perform without being asked? Those had completely stopped. Arthur pulled the jacket tighter around himself and rubbed the rag over his hair one more time.

'It must be that witch's influence.' Celestia von Reingarde. Ever since Liana had started spending time with her, things had started to go sideways Liana had started showing open dissatisfaction with the party. She picked fights now where she told them exactly what she thought was wrong. The old Liana would have never done any of that. She had been gentle and accommodating. The type of person who stepped between arguments and talked both sides down until the tension dissipated.

If someone forgot to pack something, she packed it for them. If the party's morale was low, she was the one who lifted it. She would absorb the friction, let it pass through her, and the group would keep moving. But now? She was the one causing the friction. Arthur had no doubt about where the change had come from. And that was why he was going to beat Celestia.

He was going to surpass her so thoroughly that Liana would see, clearly and without question, that associating with someone like Celestia von Reingarde would only drag her down. For now, though, he tolerated Liana's actions. Because he knew that she would soon see that she was in the wrong here. Liana was standing by the black door at the far end of the cave, her arms folded across her chest. Her bag was already packed and slung over one shoulder.

She had been ready to leave for some time now, and her foot was tapping against the cave floor, making it clear she was not interested in waiting much longer.

"Liana," Arthur called out as he walked toward her, tucking the rag into his belt. He tried to keep his voice light.

"Are you cold?" She looked at him.

"Yes. So can we leave now?" The words came back flat and fast. Arthur's smile thinned. He had been trying to lighten the mood. It stung more than he wanted to admit. Not because the words themselves were harsh, but because this was Liana. The same girl who had walked beside him since they were children, who had followed him to Summit without hesitation. The idea that she could look at him with that much impatience was something he still had not gotten used to. He swallowed the response he wanted to give and nodded.

"Sure." Behind him, Serena's boots scuffed against the cave floor. She had been watching the exchange.

"He was being considerate, you know," Serena said, stepping forward. Her voice had an edge to it that she was not trying to hide.

"You didn't have to snap at him like that. Would it kill you to just respond normally?" Liana looked at Serena. She did not respond. Arthur turned.

"It's fine, Serena." Serena looked at Arthur, and then she exhaled sharply through her nose. Her hands balled into fists at her sides before she forced them open.

"Hmph." She kicked a loose stone across the cave floor. It skipped twice and bounced off the far wall. * The next day, they entered Floor 15. It was a flat tundra with no icy mountains or jagged cliffs. Just an open white expanse stretching to the horizon in every direction, featureless except for the snow and the wind. Each of them received their trials. The system windows appeared one at a time, translucent panels hovering in front of each party member. Arthur read his.

[Floor 15] Defeat the guardian of this floor. Victory is achieved when the guardian acknowledges its defeat. We look forward to your endeavors and wish for your success. He stared at the window for a moment, then dismissed it. The guardian of Floor 15 was already well-known among climbers. An ice-spirit that took the form of a knight, seated on a throne inside a small castle. The castle itself was visible to all climbers on this floor, a dark shape on the horizon, barely more than a speck.

The problem was reaching it. The tundra between here and there was crawling with ice-type monsters, and the castle itself was said to be filled with more.

"What did everyone get?" Arthur asked. Eryndis was the first to respond, her voice lazy.

"Hunt fifteen ice rabbits." Serena reading off her trial.

"I have to stay on this floor for three days." Liana said.

"I need to heal someone's frostbite perfectly." Arthur looked at the castle on the horizon, a dark shape barely visible against the white sky.

"Mine is to defeat the floor boss." Serena turned to him.

"The boss? That's really rare for this floor! I've only heard of maybe like two people getting a boss trial on this floor." Even Eryndis looked up.

"Unlucky," she said, and went back to adjusting the strap on her quiver. Arthur shrugged. The trial was what it was, complaining about it would not change anything. And so, they set out. The tundra was exactly as bad as what they had been warned of. The wind cut through every layer of clothing and the snow was deep enough in places to reach their knees. Monsters came in packs: ice wolves that circled before lunging, and armored beetles that burrowed out from beneath the snow.

The occasional ice rabbit darted past them at unnerving speed, and Eryndis dropped each one with a clean shot. By the second day, she had finished all fifteen and was back to walking in silence, her quiver noticeably lighter. They camped at night. The flat terrain made night-watch easier than any floor before; there were no obstructions, and anyone on watch could see movement from hundreds of meters out. They took shifts, ate their rations, and slept in the tent Liana had packed.

By morning, Serena had frost in her hair. On the second day, Arthur trained between encounters, running through sword forms in the snow while the rest of the party rested. His arms ached and his fingers were stiff from the cold, but he kept at it. By the third day, the castle had grown from a speck to a visible structure. It was small, carved from glacier ice. The gate was open, the iron bars crusted with frost. From the outside, the structure looked abandoned.

They approached and quickly noticed that something was wrong. The courtyard beyond the gate was empty. There were no monsters or any signs of movement. The only sound was the wind passing through. Arthur halted a few steps from the door. He checked the frozen hall ahead.

"Why is it so quiet?" he said. He pushed the heavy door. The iron hinges groaned, and a rush of cold air escaped from inside. Beyond it was a grand hall lined with ice pillars on both sides, the vaulted ceiling catching and refracting the dim light. The polished floor stretched out ahead of them, empty. Except for the far end. At the back of the hall, on a raised platform, sat a throne of ice. And sitting on it, one leg crossed over the other, was a woman. Golden hair fell past her shoulders.

Crimson eyes looked down the length of the hall toward them. A white-haired maid stood beside the throne. Celestia von Reingarde held an ornate porcelain teacup. Steam rose from its rim. She brought it to her lips, sipped, and lowered it. Arthur's party drew closer. Their footsteps echoed in the empty hall. The maid stepped forward and took the teacup from Celestia's hand with both hands. Celestia did not look away from Arthur as the cup left her fingers. She stood from the throne.

An expensive-looking spear had been leaning against the side of the throne. She grabbed it with one hand, flipped the weapon through the air, and angled it downward. The tip hovered just above the floor. Serena's fingers tightened around her sword hilt, and behind them, Liana shifted her footing with an expression that questioned what Celestia was doing here.

"Excuse me, Celestia...?" Arthur's voice carried across the hall.

"What's going on here? What happened to the floor boss?" She did not answer immediately. The spear tilted slightly in her grip. Not threatening yet, but the direction it was heading was clear enough. When Celestia spoke, it was an order.

"Fight me." Her gaze remained fixed on Arthur. His grip tightened around his sword. What was happening right now? He had come here to fight an ice-spirit knight, to complete a trial that was already going to be difficult enough on its own. And instead, sitting on the throne where the guardian should have been, was the one person he disliked and wanted to surpass. That witch. Arthur's feet shifted into his fighting stance. His sword came up.