July 22 — Wednesday
Deaths: 76
Day Repeats: 39
Noah checked his system window for a skill theft notification, but nothing appeared.
“Didn’t I get anything from Cerberus?”
[Correct. It’s one of Arteal’s summons. Wounded Hunter can only steal from whoever directly causes your death, and the one who originally killed you was Arteal. You’ve already blocked that source.]
“So even though the summon killed me, its master is the one who counts.”
[Correct.]
Noah rubbed his face with both hands as he processed the information. Then he remembered something else.
“Hey. That status effect I got. Fear. What was that?”
[They’re negative status effects that certain monsters can inflict in combat. Thanks to the system, you’re the only one who can see them activate. In other words, no one else knows about them.]
“And if I get all of Arteal’s resistances with [Devourer’s Hunger], will that protect me from that status effect?”
[According to the skill’s specifications, yes. However, Cerberus and the black dragon inflicted Fear. Not Arteal. You don’t have their resistances.]
‘Then I’d have to eat Cerberus and the dragon too,’ Noah thought with a frustrated grimace. ‘But I can barely handle Arteal on my own.’
He opened the Summons tab and checked the levels of Legs, Fang, and Big Guy.
“I remember they lasted a few seconds before getting sent flying into the wall,” he muttered. “That gives me a short window. I’d have to kill him during that time, before his summons kill mine.”
A few laughs interrupted his thoughts. He looked up and saw a group of Hunters passing nearby, muttering among themselves without bothering to lower their voices.
“Did you see? He’s talking to himself.”
“He must be crazy.”
“Look at his gear. He’s clearly F-Rank. Those guys always end up paranoid when they can’t do anything.”
Noah listened as they walked away without responding. He got up, walked to the nearest door, and went straight to Floor 3.
The dark forest greeted him as always. He activated [Thermal Vision], and his pupils glowed orange, revealing every corner of the dead landscape.
“I’d love to spend the whole day leveling up here with my summons,” he muttered, “but the experience on this floor is practically useless to me now.”
If he wanted to advance, he needed to reach the next floor. And he had only one option.
At least now he had an advantage he hadn’t had on his previous attempt: complete resistance to Arteal.
◇◆◇
The clash of blades echoed throughout the hall, concrete crumbling beneath every blow. Despite his better gear, the resistances he’d acquired, and his more refined control over his abilities, something was still missing.
“Why isn’t this enough to kill him?!” Noah shouted in the middle of the fight, his frustration boiling over.
His lapse in concentration cost him dearly. Arteal’s banner drove into his chest, slamming him into the ground with enough force to shatter the stone around him.
He spat blood.
‘Y-You bastard… You didn’t even summon your minions this time,’ he thought, looking up at him. ‘A-Are you underestimating me?’
As Noah got up, Arteal charged at him again. Noah took a stance and blocked, but his dagger exploded into a thousand fragments beneath the next blow, which also cleanly tore off his jaw.
He fell to his knees, panic taking hold as he felt his mouth mangled, unable to control anything. He desperately tried to find a surface, but all he could feel was a deep hollow in his throat.
Fear took hold of him once again as he gasped uncontrollably. His body convulsed, and his heart raced.
Arteal walked behind him and, with a clean motion, cut off his head.
[You Died.]
◇◆◇
Noah jerked Rick’s hand away.
“I don’t care. Stay away from me.”
“Excuse me?” Rick frowned, his voice rising at once. “You should be more grateful that a decent group invited you, pathetic F-Rank that you are.”
With that, he put his hand back on Noah’s shoulder, this time pressing down harder as he tried to stop him.
Something inside Noah snapped. All the frustration he’d been carrying, all the terror he’d endured again and again.
He found an outlet he shouldn’t have had. He twisted Rick’s arm violently, breaking it, and pinned him to the floor.
Rick’s companions drew their weapons and lunged at him.
“You want some too?” Noah roared, turning toward them with a ferocity that left no room for doubt.
He took them all on at once, knocking them down so quickly that everyone in the lobby turned to stare and whisper. He pinned the last one to the floor and raised his dagger.
“Stop getting in my way!”
He looked down at the man’s neck, ready to act. He was about to plunge the dagger into it when a sickle came between its blade and his victim’s throat. A kick struck him in the stomach, sending him flying several yards back.
He got up, furious, but the blade of a scythe was already resting against his own neck.
“I know you’re stressed, just like everyone else,” said a calm male voice, charged with undeniable authority. “But I won’t tolerate killers killing each other. Compared to the masses who enter every day, there are very few of us who are real Hunters. The last thing we need is to kill one another.”
Noah studied him. He was a thin, red-haired man with a black band around his forehead, his golden eyes fixed on Noah with a mixture of intensity and contempt.
‘Who is this guy?’
Then his anger gave way to something more uncomfortable: guilt.
‘I almost killed him… Damn it. In this timeline, I’ve barely exchanged a few words with Rick. Whether I like it or not, I had no right to take it out on him like that. In this life, he’s just a stranger.’
When Noah didn’t respond, the red-haired man lowered his scythe, twirling it with obvious skill before resting its handle on the floor.
Behind him, a blonde woman with tousled hair approached, looking bored.
“Are you done, Arno? Who cares if an F-Rank dies? They’re no help to us.”
“When we die clearing the way for them, the F-Ranks will have to carry on where we left off,” Arno replied, keeping his eyes on Noah. “It’s our job to teach them, too. You should learn that, Grace.”
“I don’t care whether they clear the Fortress after I die,” she replied with a shrug. “I won’t be here anymore to find out what awaits them on Floor 1,000.”
Noah sat on the floor, holding his neck where he’d felt the blade. Behind him, Rick’s voice rose in anger, shouting curses that drew everyone’s attention. A black-haired woman in a white robe had healed his broken arm.
“You’ve been healed,” Arno said calmly. “Stop looking for trouble. Get out of here.”
“Who do you think you are, defending that piece of trash?” Rick spat, getting to his feet.
“Whether you like it or not,” Arno replied calmly, “all Hunters are comrades in a way. You should stop picking fights with them.”
As the argument continued, Noah got up and began walking away.
“Where are you going?” Arno asked, glancing at him.
“I’m not interested in this,” Noah replied without stopping. “I have things to do.”
“You should at least apologize for what happened.”
Noah stopped. To everyone’s surprise, he turned to face Rick.
“I’m sorry,” he said, curtly but sincerely. “I got carried away. I couldn’t control myself.”
With that, he continued on his way, leaving an awkward silence behind him.
“So I’m just supposed to forget the pain he caused me in my arm?” Rick protested, still angry.
“I’m already sick of how out of control he is,” Grace commented, crossing her arms. “He acts like a little girl throwing a tantrum.”
“He broke my arm! Do you think it’s normal not to be furious at that piece of trash?!”
Grace met his glare with a frown and, still standing with her arms crossed, replied:
“If you lose control over something that trivial, you’re definitely not ready for the upper floors. To me, you’re nothing but an unbearable crybaby.”
“You bitch!”
“What did you just—¿!”
“Grace. Calm down,” Arno said evenly.
◇◆◇
Noah sat against a wall in a quiet side corridor, drinking from a bottle of water he’d taken out of his inventory as he tried to calm the lingering rush of adrenaline.
‘I have to find another way to beat Arteal. The experience on this floor isn’t enough anymore. I need to reach the next floor, but I can’t break the Fortress’s rules. I have to advance properly, one floor at a time.’
He scratched his black hair and complained:
“Is he really the boss of the third floor? It makes no sense for someone that strong to show up this early.”
[It does. King Arteal is the boss of Floor 3.]
‘How strong were the people who beat him alone?’
[Clarification: A Hunter’s strength doesn’t always come from their level, but from their abilities. Some awakened the Hunter’s Mark with SSS-Rank abilities and took advantage of that.]
Noah rested his arms on his knees and sighed.
Feeling cornered, he took out his phone and dialed Belle’s number, hoping she might know a way to speed things up.
She didn’t answer.
Disappointed, he put the phone away.
“Who knows what she’s doing on Floor 500,” he muttered. “I’m not surprised she didn’t answer.”
Familiar voices approached from a nearby corridor: Arno’s group, four people in all, walking together. Their eyes met for a moment.
“Are you feeling calmer now?” Arno asked, stopping. His tone sounded like simple courtesy.
Noah closed his eyes.
“Are you here to lecture me?”
“No. It was a genuine question.” Arno shrugged. “But I see you don’t need help.”
He continued walking. When he got close, Noah decided to speak before he went too far.
“Wait. Is there any way for someone at a low level to reach an upper floor without killing the boss of their own floor?”
Arno stopped, playing with the handle of his scythe as he considered the question.
“It depends on how you want to ascend. If you only want to go for a day, you can make a contract with another Hunter who agrees to take you.” He paused. “Those arrangements often end up being unfair, though. Some take advantage of lower-ranked Hunters and charge them a fortune. There are even people who enslave others to speed up their growth.”
“Wasn’t that what happened to Thomas?” Grace commented calmly. “The guy who was in the top nine early in his career.”
“Yeah. He was enslaved.”
Noah fell silent, thinking.
‘In my case, since I come back from the dead, I could accept a contract like that without really risking anything. It’d be pure profit.’
After considering it for a moment, he looked up at Arno’s group and asked:
“What kind of contract would you offer me to take me to an upper floor?”