Whenever boredom struck, I would open the gallery.
In short order, every post in the gallery was marked as read.
I continued to press the refresh button, eagerly anticipating the appearance of a new post.
The moment an intriguing post surfaced, I clicked it without hesitation.
[Title: Isn’t it a fact that Daggers >>> Baseball Bats?]
Those who base their knowledge solely on movies invariably claim that baseball bats offer an advantage due to their reach, yet reality paints an entirely different picture.
In a one-on-one Yacha Rule (TL Note: A rule in certain fighting games where only physical attacks are allowed, often implying no-holds-barred combat) confrontation, daggers are unequivocally superior.
Hunters, too, wield daggers; has anyone ever witnessed a hunter brandishing a bat?
Simply put, for close-quarters combat, daggers far outclass bats.
Comments
— That’s because there are assassin classes, geez.
— Seriously, all tanks use blunt weapons; that’s nonsense.
— Have you ever seen anyone who played baseball become a hunter?
— What does it mean for a sport to be shut down because players were caught hiding their awakenings while playing? Lol.
This was a post I stumbled upon while mindlessly scrolling through the Hunter Gallery.
These individuals, I mused, were remarkably consistent.
Perpetually rehashing the same contentious topics and recycled comments.
Likely, a decade hence, they would still be debating these very same subjects.
Yet, I realized, the same could be said for myself.
— ㅇㅇ(A11.111): Oh, whether it’s a bat or a sword, magic triumphs over all~
— Oh, it’s Top Roamer.
— Are you a mage too, by any chance?
— You think so? Mages are so rare that their identities are already public knowledge.
Ever since I penned that previous post, I had noticed an increasing number of individuals recognizing me.
My nickname is Top Roamer.
Occasionally, I was also referred to as Asgard Roamer.
This moniker had been coined by users speculating that my peculiar IP address meant I was browsing the gallery from the very pinnacle of the Tower.
Though I had acquired an invincible knack for stirring up trouble, I found myself exercising considerable restraint.
After all, for someone as prominent as myself, gallery activity now demanded a certain gravitas.
Every comment and post I made had to be crafted with meticulous care.
My strategy involved selecting titles and content so compelling that people would be compelled to click them.
[Title: Turn off the lights and come into my blanket.]
Author: ㅇㅇ(2E2.E22)
(An image of a person-sized tyrannosaurus roughly made of sand)
Behold, an incredible sand dinosaur. I crafted it myself.
[Comments: 0]
Oh, this simply couldn’t be right.
Why the utter lack of response? It was an extraordinary dinosaur, after all.
“I really worked hard on it….”
A dark bitterness began to fester within me.
Should this prolonged indifference persist, I feared I might truly descend into darkness.
“What should I use to draw attention? Should I re-upload my exclusive clear proof?”
Now that I was free from any lingering concerns of being tracked, perhaps a more aggressive appeal would be justified.
At that precise moment, my phone’s alarm chimed.
I rose from my bed and gazed out the window.
Outside, the sun had already begun its ascent.
As I unlatched the window for ventilation, my eyes fell upon a colossal black pillar in the distance, seemingly devouring all the surrounding lights.
It was nearing the time to enter the Tower.
I had indulged in enough leisure.
Now, it was time to work.
****
Today, once more, I stepped into the Tower.
Yesterday’s lingering discomfort belonged to yesterday. Today’s self would ascend today’s Tower.
I felt a surge of pride at my consistent attendance, not having missed a single day of climbing.
The counsel offered by the Mage Gallery was unequivocally clear.
Ascend the Tower. Increase your maximum mana by leveling up. Alternatively, seek out new skills.
It was a simple, lucid solution, and one I wholeheartedly endorsed.
For controlling two clones simultaneously was an irresistibly appealing tactic I simply could not abandon.
“Besides, it’s about time to level up.”
According to the denizens of the Magic Gallery, I was expected to level up around the eighth floor.
However, that benchmark applied to hardcore players.
If hardcore players typically leveled up around the third and eighth floors, then for me, having already leveled up on the first floor, the sixth floor seemed a more appropriate milestone for my next advancement.
“Given that Extreme difficulty entails defeating significantly more monsters, this much should be well within my capabilities.”
I stepped onto the threshold of the Tower.
The familiar sensation, akin to being drawn into a vacuum, enveloped me.
Before my eyes lay the familiar, seamless white chamber I had encountered previously.
And, notably, a status window I had not seen before.
[Party Invitation]
I had been informed that party functionality would become active starting from the sixth floor.
This feature allowed individuals who had entered the same Tower to form parties and tackle challenges collaboratively.
I had also heard that, eventually, it would even be possible to form parties with hunters from Towers located in different regions.
Naturally, this was of no concern to me.
For I was, and always would be, a solo player.
Most importantly, I now possessed a steadfast tank.
Without a moment’s hesitation, I pushed open the Tower’s door and stepped inside.
[Entering Tower 6F (EXTREME).]
The landscape before me unfolded as a vast grassland.
Evidently, the era of dank caves had concluded.
The monster that greeted me was not the detestable goblins of previous floors.
Instead, a colossal, green-skinned brute stood before me, clad in crude leather armor and bearing a massive double-edged axe slung over its shoulder.
“Chwi-eek….”
It was an orc.
There was but a single adversary.
I instinctively furrowed my brow.
“The same composition as Normal difficulty?”
Furthermore, I had heard that Hard difficulty presented two orcs. Yet, I was faced with only one?
By now, I understood implicitly that this was by no means good news.
If the number of monsters had been reduced in Extreme difficulty, it invariably signified the appearance of a creature far more potent in quality.
As expected, the axe clutched by the orc was anything but ordinary.
Its blade pulsed with an unsettling, frigid aura.
There was no need to observe further. I immediately cast Sand Swamp.
The orc moved with startling speed; before the swamp could fully materialize, it had already launched itself forward, charging across the ground.
The Sand Swamp momentarily ensnared its ankle, but the effect proved negligible.
With a single stomp of its foot, as if merely a minor annoyance, it effortlessly shrugged off the sand’s resistance.
Indeed, for monsters significantly larger than humans, the Sand Swamp held little practical value.
Nevertheless, it was acceptable.
For I possessed a new skill.
“Sand Totem.”
I calmly invoked the skill.
Simultaneously, the sands before me rapidly coalesced, forming a colossal pillar.
With practiced ease, I severed my pinky finger and plunged it into the totem.
Then, I concentrated on the deity within.
I conjured an image of myself, my very form.
The sand pillar writhed and pulsed, swiftly transforming into a humanoid figure bearing my exact likeness.
A sudden wave of concern washed over me.
Could such a diminutive figure truly withstand the impact of that massive axe?
“Waaargh!”
The orc roared, hoisting its axe high above its head.
Then, it brought the weapon down with merciless force upon the totem.
I reflexively squeezed my eyes shut.
A deafening CRASH!
A dull, heavy impact resonated, and a cloud of sand dust erupted from the spot where the totem had stood.
Cautiously, I opened my eyes.
To my relief, the totem remained un-shattered.
Though one shoulder was deeply caved in, it stoically held its ground.
Its durability, I realized, surpassed my expectations.
“Alright, so it can endure at least one strike.”
I exhaled a sigh of relief.
The orc swung its axe once more.
This time, I believed, it might be possible to evade the blow.
I manipulated the totem, making it lunge sideways.
But my expectations proved mistaken.
“What? It actually struck?”
The clone, having clumsily taken but a single step sideways, instead took the axe full-on.
The totem’s head split apart like kindling.
By attempting to dodge ineffectively, it had merely ensured a more forceful impact.
It seemed that for me, utterly devoid of any innate sense for close-quarters combat, attempting to control the clone in such a manner was utterly futile.
“…Should I learn some martial arts?”
I swiftly concluded my brief contemplation.
After all, the Sand Totem was merely a meat shield.
Its sole purpose was to buy me casting time, and in that, it fulfilled its role perfectly.
In the interim, I unleashed the prepared sand bullets directly at the orc’s head.
WHOOSH—!
The bullets sliced through the air.
“Waaargh!”
However, the orc bellowed a battle cry, then, with monstrous reflexes, swiftly raised its axe to parry the incoming bullets.
“Insane, it actually reacted and blocked that?”
Fortunately, even its thick axe failed to entirely negate the potency of my bullets.
CRACK!
The orc’s axe shattered into countless fragments, scattering shrapnel in every direction.
Yet, the orc remained alive.
All that remained was the tattered, shredded arm that had wielded the axe.
“Should I really get an attack skill?”
Indeed, this was merely a rudimentary spell I had replicated from a YouTube video.
Perhaps the inherent limitations of a basic attack, unaugmented by specific skills, had finally been exposed.
“Hah, there are simply too many skills I need to acquire… How on earth do others manage?”
“Waaargh!”
The orc let out a pained shriek and began to charge directly at me.
My recent attack had successfully drawn its aggro.
I calmly resumed manipulating the Sand Totem.
The aggro needed to be redirected back to the totem.
A function inherent to the Sand Totem.
The sand clone, bearing my likeness, bellowed in a booming, ‘manly’ voice.
“Look—at—me—!”
It felt peculiar to witness my own likeness shouting in such a ‘manly’ voice.
Ah, I always wished I could do something like that if I had a more impressive physique.
That dream, however, was now irrevocably lost.
The orc’s crimson eyes swiftly darted back to the clone.
The enraged orc charged at the clone, unleashing a flurry of punches.
CRUNCH! CRUNCH!
It was a satisfying barrage of blows, so powerful it almost felt refreshing to witness.
It was, admittedly, a bit disheartening to see my own likeness getting pummeled so thoroughly.
The sand clone, however, could not endure many blows.
“I… can… do… this… all… day….”
With slurred words, the clone’s body burst apart mercilessly, dissolving back into a handful of sand.
The orc charged at me once more.
Only then did I conclude my observation, unleashing every prepared bullet.
The volley consisted of dozens of bullets, consuming half of the sand I had procured from the Sand Swamp.
SWISH-SWISH-SWISH-SWISH—!
The orc’s massive body was instantly riddled with holes and collapsed.
Then, a familiar system message appeared.
[Congratulations on clearing Tower 6F (EXTREME).]
[Congratulations on leveling up!]
[Current Level: Lv3]
[You can acquire a new skill.]
Finally, a level up.
Three books materialized in the air before me.
Two were a dull, drab brown, signifying a common outcome.
And the last, a subtly gleaming silver.
“Wait, silver? Could this be?”
As anticipation swelled within me, new notifications appeared in quick succession.
[You are the first to clear EXTREME difficulty!]
[First Clear Bonus applied!]
The silver skillbook transformed, now radiating a dazzling golden light.
My hands clenched with excitement.
“Could this mean?”
[Rank 1 Bonus applied!]
The golden skillbook underwent yet another transformation.
It now shone with a brilliant, blinding platinum hue.
“Oh, yes, this is it. This is it!”
Ah, how resplendent.
To think I would finally obtain a platinum skillbook.
They say even a highly-rated skill from these is enough to be treated as a quasi-A-rank asset.
And I had found one on the sixth floor.
As if enchanted, I reached out my hand towards the silver-white skillbook.
“This time, it should give me a decent offensive skill, right?”
The moment my finger brushed the book, it disintegrated into sparkling dust, absorbing into my body.
Filled with anticipation, I checked the skill information.
“What? It’s a passive skill?”
My first white-grade skillbook.
Its brilliantly shining name was [Awakening].
I read the skill description.
[Passive Skill: Awakening]
[Description: Opens your eyes.]
So brief it was unhelpful.
I blinked, dumbfounded.
“What is this?”
