And so I opened the door…
Opened the door…
Opened…
"Hup!"
"…"
"…?"
The door didn't open.
It felt like pushing against a wall.
This had never happened before.
For a moment, my mind went blank.
*Is it locked?*
I didn't want to jump to such a grim conclusion.
It was hard to accept that the ascension gate would be blocked for such a pointless reason.
If that were the case, shouldn't a rejection message have popped up first when I pressed the [Request Ascension] button on the hologram menu…?
"…"
Not that there was anyone to argue with.
For now, I decided to push harder.
I wondered if there was some kind of strength stat restriction in place.
"Blood Knight, Barang. Help me push."
⟨…As you command…!⟩
The Blood Knight moved to my side and gripped the door with both hands.
Barang placed his front paws against it and leaned his weight in.
"Nngh…!"
All three of us pressed against the door and shoved.
*Creeeeak…*
"Huh?"
It was barely perceptible, but the door definitely shuddered and gave way.
Good. At least it wasn't locked.
That was encouraging.
Still, it was hard to believe the three of us weren't strong enough.
Two of us could punch craters into marble walls with our bare fists.
"A little more! Push!"
*CRACK!*
We all let out a battle cry and threw everything we had into forcing the door open.
Then, light began seeping through the gap.
"What is this?"
Something came pouring through the crack.
*Clatter— clang!*
"What… is this?"
Rolling down at my feet were bright golden coins.
I peeked inside and couldn't hold back my shock.
"What the hell…"
This vast hollow chamber had a pile of gold coins stacked halfway up the door.
Of course it took absurd force to push it open—we were shoving against that enormous mass.
I braced against the door trying to close and pushed again.
"Harder this time. Three, two, one!"
*BOOM—!*
We threw every last ounce of strength into it.
*CRASH—!!!*
The moment the door swung open a little further, the backed-up mountain of gold coins burst through like a dam breaking.
"WHOA—!"
I flailed and frantically opened my inventory.
[You have obtained Gold.]
[You have obtained Gold.]
[You have obtained Gold.]
…
Hologram system windows plastered themselves across my entire field of vision.
Once the inventory had sucked up a decent amount of coins, the full interior of floor 100 finally came into view.
A hill of gold.
And at its center stood the master of floor 100.
Before I even checked the name.
"Death Mark."
*Flash—!* [ - ]
The moment I laid eyes on it, I drove in the first stack.
[Defender: Treasure Keeper (100F)]
Treasure Keeper.
The most bizarre-looking monster I'd seen so far.
Ashen grey skin—a stark contrast to the golden backdrop surrounding it.
Twice my size, though compared to the monsters I'd faced before, it couldn't exactly be called a giant.
Twisted horns jutted from its head, and wild, disheveled hair completely obscured its face—no eyes, nose, or mouth visible at all.
Six arms extended from its torso, and each hand clutched golden fragments.
Looking closer, I realized they were keys.
Enormous keys—big enough to fill its hands completely. It gripped them tight.
And behind it.
*Flash—!*
There was the source of that golden radiance.
An impossibly large golden chest.
Abnormally massive—large enough to fill the entire back wall of the chamber.
A structure like that existing on a floor was a first.
And then, the next moment.
Yet another unprecedented event occurred.
⟨Why has a soldier from the lower floors set foot in this place.⟩
*
*
*
*
*
The Karbas Great Desert, stretching on without end.
In this vast, desolate expanse where sandstorms blew until they themselves grew weary, countless tribes and nations, faiths and heresies, warlords and chieftains had risen and fallen throughout the ages.
But then came a nation that unified them all in blood.
Its name was the Sahad Empire.
The Emperor of Sahad proclaimed himself the living embodiment of the Sun God and declared his empire by divine mandate.
His power was absolute.
The imperial family's grip over the entire desert grew endlessly bloated, and the royals became lords of each region, seizing tremendous power for themselves.
Never in the history of Karbas had a single group been so wealthy and mighty.
Yet not one of Sahad's descendants was ever satisfied with their share.
They began coveting what belonged to others. They murdered their own kin.
Conflict deepened until what unfolded could no longer even be called court intrigue.
Civil war had become routine.
And yet, even within that turbulent imperial family, there was one who stood out for his particular infamy…
The third prince of Sahad, Marwan ibn Shams al-Sahad.
Long before he became a lord, Marwan was a scoundrel whose name never left the rumor mill.
His manner of speech was shockingly crude for a prince, and his natural temperament was nothing short of savage and merciless.
He was notorious for his horrifying capriciousness and his taste for outrageous behavior.
For that reason, the Sahad Empire sending the third prince Marwan to the Continental Supreme Council was, in truth, a far greater insult than if the Eastern Empire had merely dispatched a mid-level foreign minister.
But on that very day.
The signal flare for the second tower rush was fired at the Council.
Word had arrived that the ominous magical energy that had pervaded the tower's first 100 floors for four centuries had vanished.
The timing was unfortunate.
For the Sahad Empire, it was a profoundly unlucky turn of events.
That news reached the ears of the third prince Marwan first—and it ignited his ambition.
That was how it began.
Though historians who place excessive faith in the law of rise and fall might not consider it such a dramatic opening.
The atrocity that would unfold in this detached palace today would likewise be recorded in dry, dispassionate terms.
*
The underground conference hall of the detached palace.
Three subordinates stood in a line before the third prince Marwan, who sat with his legs crossed in an ornate chair.
The battle commander leading Marwan's elite forces, the captain of the royal guard, and the chief administrator.
Those three.
Marwan was, needless to say, a warmonger—and given that he was still alive, his record was one of unbroken victory. Whatever his reputation within the imperial family, the competence of these three was beyond question.
"Your Highness. Preparations for the main force's deployment are complete. Securing supply routes to circumvent the Eastern Empire's surveillance network and conducting disruption operations along the border are both proceeding without issue."
The battle commander finished his report and studied Marwan's expression.
But as always, his inner thoughts were impossible to read.
The battle commander, who had been about to conclude his report, cleared his throat and ventured carefully.
"However, Your Highness. Regarding that necromancer you summoned—Alcamus…"
"What? You don't like him?"
Marwan asked immediately, his expression guileless.
He seemed to have already anticipated what the battle commander was about to say.
"I have no doubt that he is a powerful sorcerer… but he is far too unsettling a eccentric to conduct operations alongside our warriors."
Marwan widened his eyes as if listening intently, nodding at the end of each sentence.
The battle commander kept speaking without letting his guard down.
"I have complied with Your Highness's order to grant him whatever he requests… but I would suggest separating his unit from ours."
"What did the old man ask for?"
The battle commander answered with visible discomfort.
"He requested dozens of boys under the age of thirteen…"
Hearing that, the third prince Marwan let out a short, derisive laugh.
Then he uncrossed his legs and leaned his upper body forward.
"You granted that request. And now you're saying you don't want to travel with him?"
The battle commander hastily dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
"I only asked for reconsideration in the interest of operational efficiency. If Your Highness commands it, I will do as you see fit!"
Marwan clicked his tongue and leaned back.
"Battle Commander. Are you telling me my elite soldiers are afraid of that Alcamus?"
"Afraid? Absolutely not…!"
The battle commander broke into a cold sweat and poured out his excuses.
How strong his unit was, how perfectly prepared they were.
And how absolutely devoted they were in their loyalty to the third prince.
He spoke with passionate conviction.
"Then let's see."
The third prince Marwan rested his chin in his hand and smiled slyly.
"Just how loyal are you all to me?"
The quick-witted captain of the royal guard stepped forward.
"The warriors of our unit, Your Highness, would not hesitate for a single moment to burn down the very villages where they were born and raised, if you gave the word!"
"Hmm."
Marwan made a sound through his nose.
"Is that so?"
The battle commander's expression stiffened in an instant.
Marwan's gaze drifted toward a young scribe who had been recording the meeting's minutes.
"Oh? Isn't that scribe over there the battle commander's daughter? A blood relation, yes?"
"Y-Your Highness…!"
"Prove it."
The third prince smiled slowly and looked at the battle commander.
"Can't do it…?"
"…"
The scribe was trembling with terror, the quill shaking in her grip, and the battle commander's face had gone white as a sheet.
A heavy silence pressed down over the conference hall.
Then, the third prince suddenly burst into roaring laughter.
"Bwahahaha! I'm joking, I'm joking."
The third prince waved his hand dismissively and spoke with easy composure.
"How could I ever make one of my subordinates kill their own daughter with their own hands?"
"Ah… ah… thank you, Your Highness! I will devote my life to your service!"
The battle commander wept tears of relief and pressed his forehead to the floor.
The third prince rose from his seat and walked toward the scribe.
She bowed her head over and over, her face streaked with tears.
"Th-thank you, Your Highness… your grace is boundless…"
"Right! You almost died at your own father's hands, didn't you?"
The prince patted the scribe's shoulder with warm familiarity.
"I cherish my people dearly. The work my subordinates would have to bear—this master will take care of it himself!"
*Shing—! Slash!*
The silver curved blade Marwan drew flashed as it cleared its scabbard.
A fountain of blood erupted from the scribe's neck.
Unable to even scream, the scribe's head dropped to the floor and rolled.
That severed head rolled to a stop directly in front of the battle commander's bowed face.
And so he came face to face with his daughter.
Marwan spoke.
"Are you still more afraid of that necromancer than of me?"
"……"
The battle commander's face became that of a man who had lost his mind.
He shot to his feet.
*Shhk—*
He drew the curved blade at his hip.
And lunged at the prince with terrifying speed.