Ch-267. **999 vs 1**
—
Tremble, tremble, tremble!
Isabella’s hands shook like aspen leaves.
Her face had gone deathly pale, and spasms twitched around her eyes.
Just moments ago, he had been inside the carriage—and now he was gone.
She searched everywhere, but Randolph was nowhere to be found.
Had he woken up?
Had he stepped out briefly to take care of something?
Countless possibilities churned through her mind, but they all led to the same conclusion—*that couldn’t be it*.
There was no reason for Randolph, once awake, to leave without saying a single word to her.
“Are you sure you didn’t see him?”
“Yes, I’m telling you, I didn’t see anything. This is bizarre—like a ghost carried him off.”
The coachman looked flustered as well.
He wasn’t lying.
Isabella had been gone for no more than five minutes.
If the coachman had moved Randolph and hidden him in that short span, there would have been signs.
But his breathing, his appearance—everything was the same as before she stepped away.
Even his expression and heartbeat told her he was telling the truth.
Crunch.
Isabella bit her nails.
“I shouldn’t have gone to buy bread…”
She stared at the cold bread left inside the carriage, regret flooding her.
She hadn’t needed to leave at all.
Who could have known that the *bakery* she had seen in Arcana—the Golden City she and Randolph had reached together for the first time—would also exist in the royal capital of the Kingdom of Valan?
Bread that cost a maddening fifty gold.
The shop’s name was simply *Bakery*.
Back then, she had only three hundred gold, and it had been so expensive she hadn’t even dared consider buying it.
So when she saw the sign of that same *Bakery*, she’d felt a surge of nostalgia and stepped down from the carriage—only for that decision to lead to an irreversible outcome.
“Don’t tell me… kidnapping?”
There were no footprints leading away.
The coachman hadn’t seen Randolph leave.
Which meant he’d either vanished into the ground, soared into the sky, or been secretly abducted by a third party.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The thought sent Isabella’s heart into a wild frenzy.
If someone had kidnapped Lord Randolph—
She would kill them.
Without fail, she would kill them.
But the bad thoughts kept piling on.
If it was kidnapping, then *who* did it?
“…There are too many suspects.”
It could be the Players, including the Eight Heroes’ Association.
It could be the Empire, having realized Randolph’s true identity.
It could be the White King.
Or the Black King.
Or the Administrator.
Or, failing all that, demons or devils.
Thinking it through, the list was longer than she’d imagined.
Randolph always seemed to be walking a tightrope.
Wasn’t he carrying far too much on his own?
Whoosh!
Isabella kicked off the ground.
He couldn’t have gone far.
And yet, no matter how much she searched, she couldn’t find Randolph.
The royal capital was wider than she’d thought.
“…I can’t find him on my own.”
Changing her approach, Isabella headed for the royal palace.
—
—
“What—what is this?!”
“Stop her!”
“Aaaargh!”
Whoosh! Thud!
Kwakakakabang!
Kwaaaaagh!
It was as if a natural disaster had struck.
A deafening roar shook the palace to its core.
“…What in the world is this commotion?”
Hearing the sudden noise during his midday tea, the King of Valan frowned.
It felt like only yesterday that he’d landed a decisive blow on King Friedrich of the Iron Kingdom.
He’d been enjoying peaceful days since—so why this calamity now?
“Haha. Pay it no mind. More importantly, this herb we recently imported from abroad—doesn’t it have quite a pleasant taste?”
The king dismissed it.
At the moment, the Saintess and Serengeti before him were far more important.
“Ugh. What kind of dog-shit taste is this?”
“Mmm! Tasty!”
And then there were those two children…
The boy and girl who called themselves Issera and Lucaria.
Their starkly opposite reactions carried a powerful sense of otherness that even the king couldn’t treat lightly.
Seeing even the Saintess and Serengeti regard them with subtle caution, they were undoubtedly extraordinary guests.
Boom! Crash! Kwarung!
Kwang! Kwakwabang!
“Haha…”
“S-sire! Intruder!”
At that moment, a soldier came running in, shouting.
The King of Valan finally sighed.
“…What kind of fool dares to brazenly invade the palace gates?”
“S-some crazy woman—!”
“A crazy woman?”
“She’s rampaging, demanding to see Serengeti and Saintess Seia!”
No one didn’t know that Serengeti and Saintess Seia were here.
Given their tremendous feats in protecting the Kingdom of Valan, people causing disturbances just to see them wasn’t unusual.
But something this loud was unprecedented, so the king nodded.
“A madwoman, then. But why hasn’t she been subdued?”
“T-that’s because…!”
An existence the palace’s soldiers and knights couldn’t suppress.
At that, Serengeti tilted his head.
“That aura feels familiar.”
“Hehe. I think I know who it is.”
When Saintess Seia smiled, Serengeti frowned.
“Who?”
“It’s much stronger now. Don’t you recognize it?”
“Hm… This domineering presence. Hot like the desert, sharp like a beast. Among those I know, only one gives off an aura like this… Isabella?”
“That’s right.”
“But why would Isabella attack the palace?”
The Isabella Serengeti knew was cautious above all else.
Thoughtful, quiet—perhaps a bit dull—but once she bit down, she never let go, like a snake.
She wasn’t the kind of person to attack a palace without reason.
She must have had an urgent reason to seek them out.
And that reason was, in all likelihood, related to Randolph.
Stand.
“I should go see.”
Serengeti rose from her seat.
When she headed toward the palace entrance—
She saw a horrific scene, with hundreds strewn across the ground, and Isabella standing at the center.
Her face was hardened like that of a demon.
Having never seen Isabella with such an expression, Serengeti tensed.
In the worst case, she might have to restrain her.
“Isabella. What on earth are you doing?”
Isabella turned her head to look at Serengeti.
But the rigidity in her expression didn’t ease.
Serengeti soon understood why.
“…Lord Randolph has disappeared.”
That single sentence was enough.
—
—
The Kingdom of Valan was thrown into complete chaos.
“Thrown into chaos” was an apt description.
Perhaps feeling guilty about something, the King of Valan treated Isabella—who had attacked the palace—as an honored guest instead, sparing no support in the search for Randolph.
All entrances connected to the capital were sealed, and a manhunt was declared—but Randolph was never found.
“Lord Randolph has disappeared?”
“…I’ll help as well.”
Isabella and Serengeti, Saintess Seia, Issera and Lucaria, Hudson, and the elf Auril—
All of them moved actively, launching a full-scale search for Randolph.
And thus, the winds began to blow.
The small whirlwind that started in the Kingdom of Valan showed signs of growing into a massive typhoon.
—
—
“Karas… you damn bastard.”
Raiga, commander of the Fang Knights, stood outside the tower, looking up.
War God Karas had expelled him, exercising his authority as the tower’s master.
—*Should I write it down for you?*
That single sentence echoed in his ears.
The one who had offered to write down the missing portions of the Life-and-Death Scripture—
He was now on the 11th floor of the tower.
Raiga was restless.
“…I can’t enter. He’s sealed it off completely. No one can enter or leave until this trial ends.”
Damn it!
Hyun of Adrium.
No matter how extraordinary the man was, the refurbished Tower of the War God was unknown territory.
From the 11th floor onward, there was no telling what awaited.
Could he really survive?
“Please… just come back alive…!”
When had Raiga ever yearned for someone this desperately?
If any challenger dared lay a finger on Hyun of Adrium, he would tear them to shreds—but for now, there was nothing he could do.
And contrary to his hopes, Hyun’s chances of returning alive were slim.
Against a thousand geniuses trapped together in the tower, Hyun of Adrium was still far too weak.
—
—
《Welcome to the 11th Floor of the Tower of the War God.》
《From the 11th to the 15th floor, “Equal Struggle” will begin.》
《All challengers receive 300 stat points.》
《Points may be invested into desired attributes (Strength, Agility, Stamina, Intelligence, Mana). Once invested, points cannot be reallocated.》
《All “abilities” other than stats will be maintained.》
《All 1,000 challengers will compete. When 100 are eliminated or surrender, advancement to the next floor becomes possible.》
《Begins in 30 minutes.》
The 11th floor of the tower.
The thousand challengers who had been forcibly transported all stared at the messages before their eyes.
“Interesting.”
“What kind of rules are these?”
“If I kill everyone, does that make me the winner?”
The game board had completely changed.
Yet surprisingly few were flustered.
Those gathered here were all geniuses once hailed as such.
Naturally, their adaptability to change was swift.
“A refurbished tower, refurbished rules.”
It was a complete reversal from when I climbed the tower as Randolph.
Back then, there were no such rules.
*Equal Struggle.*
The wording said “equal,” but the conditions were brutally unfair.
In the end, the only equal thing was the 300 stat points.
“Class, skills, equipment, tools, connections… It’s a structure that forces you to use everything you have.”
Stat allocation needed to match how well one could leverage what they possessed.
You had to know yourself—how your body would move and adapt when suddenly weakened or strengthened.
And beyond that, there was something even more important.
Not being alone.
“…A thousand people clashing all at once.”
There were no other rules.
The fighting would continue endlessly until a hundred were eliminated.
Before the melee began, it was a game of forming *alliances*.
The one who gathered more—and stronger—people would win.
This struggle would continue all the way to the 15th floor.
“Mercenaries of the Cartel, gather here!”
“Sons of the Sun! Let us unite!”
“The Dersian family never falls!”
The quick-witted began moving at once.
By city, by nation, by organization.
They shouted at the top of their lungs, scrambling to draw in even one more ally.
This was war.
A condensed version of countless wars waged by a thousand people.
By city, by nation—alliances, rivalries, strength, weakness—everything came into play in this brutal scramble.
“United we survive.”
Everyone thought the same.
After all, hadn’t they already been grouped by city?
Forming groups wasn’t difficult.
It was simply a race to see who could band together faster.
With similar stat distributions, drawing in even one more person within the 30 minutes was critical.
The smallest groups would be devoured first.
If you were isolated, you became prey.
And the one most easily isolated—
Was me.
“……”
“……”
The gazes directed at me from all sides.
I had already drawn too much attention.
The only Warrior-bracket participant, the first to master the Life-and-Death Scripture—someone who had nearly earned Raiga’s personal favor.
“A mere level 4 daring to surpass me?”
“Hyun of Adrium? No status, no standing—and he dares to catch Lord Raiga’s eye before me?”
“If he disappears, we can start over.”
“That thing is supposed to be a greater genius than me?”
…Those murderous looks alone told me everything about the hostility directed my way.
Many didn’t even bother hiding their killing intent.
There was nowhere that would take me in.
If they did, they’d be attacked immediately by other groups.
Before the fight even began, I was adrift—belonging nowhere.
I was—
Isolated.
