Chapter 9: 2nd Floor – Base: Kingdom of Calibarium (3)

With one day left before Yu Hana’s expulsion, I quickly washed up in her room and changed into a spare shirt and pants. 

Yu Hana waited outside while I changed, leaving a surveillance spell running inside the room.

Creepy.

When I stepped out into the living room after getting dressed, I saw Yu Hana wiping a nosebleed. 

The moment our eyes met, she frantically tried to explain herself.

“Th-that! I’ve just… b-been exhausted from all the t-training these past few days!”

“Sure.”

I didn’t pay it much mind and grabbed a glass of cold water from the table. 

As the chilled water slid down my throat, my head felt clear again.

“You manage to learn everything?”

I set the glass down and asked her. 

She nodded enthusiastically, putting on a confident face.

“Yes! I’ve learned where I am, and what it takes to survive here. What about you, oppa?”

“I’m all set too.”

Technically, I learned all this back in my sixth run. 

That was forever ago, but the knowledge had stuck with me. 

And when you mix in a regressor’s experience from climbing all the way to the 99th floor, it basically becomes the ultimate crash course.

“S-So, what now? Are you really going to climb the Tower? Or are you thinking of staying here?”

Yu Hana asked. 

It was barely worth pondering, but I made a show of thinking deeply before answering softly.

“I guess… I’ll have to climb.”

“Oh…”

“To go back to the world I came from, I think I need to see this through. Reach the end. I mean, living peacefully here wouldn’t be so bad either, but… I still want to go back.”

Total BS.

Truth be told, I couldn’t even remember the faces of my so-called “family” back on Earth. 

Maybe I’d intentionally wiped them from my memory, since they were barely worth calling family in the first place.

Anyway, I didn’t exactly have that typical returner mentality—“I must go back to Earth and raise helllll!” or whatever. 

I just wanted to reach the top and finally get rid of this damned regression ability. 

Maybe take care of a few evil gods along the way.

Still, Yu Hana seemed a little disappointed. 

Like she’d been hoping I wouldn’t bring up climbing at all. 

Her head drooped slightly.

“I-I see… the climb…”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I can go alone.”

“N-no way! I’m following you no matter what! Even to the ends of hell!”

Both terrifying and reassuring at the same time. 

I gave a soft chuckle and ruffled her chestnut-colored hair. 

She giggled and eagerly nuzzled her head into my hand.

As I watched her, I thought about the gear I’d stashed in my dimensional pouch.

The truth was, there weren’t that many hidden treasures left on the second floor. 

Most had already been looted. 

The few that remained came with bizarre conditions to obtain—some of them downright twisted.

Take the Cursed Dagger, for instance.

To get that, you had to perform a dark ritual inside a tunnel that cut through the mountain’s center—without ever actually crossing through it. 

I’d stumbled across it by complete accident, and had been using it ever since. 

The dagger itself was also incredibly powerful.

What is this thing? 

Where’d you get it? 

Instant-death curse, weakening curse, disease curse… it’s just packed with nasty stuff. 

Are you secretly a curse sorcerer or something?

Even the jester who’d taught me dagger techniques had said that much. 

Considering how powerful her own dagger was, that spoke volumes about just how rare this cursed dagger really was.

Aside from that, I also picked up [Phantom Thief’s Cloak], [Elixir of Springwater], and the [Infinite Dagger Sheath]—a solid haul of high-tier loot, all collected during that one-week stretch.

Sure, I had to roll around in the mud, dive under a lake, and wipe out a criminal guild along the way, but in the end, I got everything I wanted.

Now, all my preparations were done. 

The food and water I bought using gold looted from the guild was also safely packed away in my dimensional pouch.

All that was left was to recruit ‘Rita’ into the party and begin the real climb.

So then, where would Rita be right now?

No need to think too hard—this part was always the same in every run.

She’d be in one of the dungeons on the second floor—“A Thousand Spider Eyes.” 

She was always among the group of dozens of slaves the guild sent in as disposable scouts.

What more was there to say?

She was a slave.

***

“Get up, you worm.”

As always, the “manager” arrived with a sudden flash of light. In this windowless solitary cell, it was the only time any light ever came in. 

Once she finished her task and got locked back inside, there’d be no light, no sense of time—just tears and sleep in the pitch-dark void.

“……”

Because of that, the girl’s face was permanently stained with tear tracks. 

It had been that way ever since her parents sold her into slavery to pay off gambling debts.

That was four years and six months ago.

With frail, bony limbs, she struggled to her feet and staggered toward the only light.

The rotund manager clicked his tongue, looking down at her.

“Move faster. What, are you trying to rebel now?”

“…I’m sorry.”

Her cracked voice echoed from her dry throat, parched from going days without clean water. The sound seemed to offend the manager, and he kicked her hard in the ribs.

“Guhk!”

The girl slammed into the wall and collapsed to the floor, sliding down like a ragdoll. 

The administrator stepped into her cell and began to stomp on her with a chilling grin.

Thud! 

Whack! 

Crack!

Brutal noises echoed through the thin walls of the cell, unfiltered and terrifying. 

The sound of flesh being mangled.

Bones fracturing. 

Wounds bursting open. 

Blood sloshing. 

The girl’s sobs.

All of it combined into a single, suffocating horror.

She squeezed her eyes shut as teeth fell out from the endless kicks hammering her body.

But even darkness couldn’t offer her any relief. 

In exchange for one sense being dulled, her hearing had sharpened, and her pain receptors went wild.

Still, she could bear it.

The part of her brain responsible for registering pain had long since broken. 

No matter how much her body felt like it was being crushed to pieces, all she could do was whimper. 

The time for begging or wailing had passed ages ago.

Minutes crawled by.

“Haaah… Now that hits the spot.”

“Khuh… kghh…”

The administrator wiped the sweat from his forehead, letting out a satisfied breath. 

Then he spat on the top of her head and shoved his hand into his pocket.

“Seriously, nothing beats beating the crap out of brats to blow off steam. They can’t even fight back. It’s great.”

“H-hnn… hhh…”

“Alright, shut up and get up now. We’ve got something other than labor lined up today.”

“Kkgh…”

“I said get up. You deaf or just plain stupid?”

He ground his foot down on her head again. 

The girl somehow scraped together the last of her strength and managed a reply.

“…U-understood…”

“Good.”

He lifted his foot. 

Flashing a sly grin, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her outside. 

The pain felt like her scalp was being torn clean off, but she bit back the scream. 

Blood dripped steadily from her legs as they scraped along the ground.

“Stand there.”

After a few more steps, he flung her like trash. 

She forced her swollen eyes open and braced her trembling legs to stand. 

Then she looked around at the others—fellow slaves, shivering in place just like her.

“I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die…”

“Fuck. Fuck this. Might as well off myself.”

“Heh…”

Muttering, seething, broken slaves filled the area. 

For a girl who still remembered them when they’d been whole, there was no worse hell than this place.
 

But this was reality. 

And to avoid ending up like them, she had to follow every command like her life depended on it.

She walked to the end of the three rows of slaves and stood at attention, just like the rest. 

Her frail, broken body screamed in protest from the mere act of standing.

“Hhgh… hhgh…”

Blood from her torn skin pooled on the ground. 

Her shattered fingers screamed with agony at being clenched into fists. 

Fresh blood spurted from the sockets where teeth had been ripped out. 

The metallic taste of iron lingered on her tongue. 

Unswallowed blood trickled from her lips, hitting the ground with a quiet drip.

Then, a man stepped onto the platform in front of them. 

He brought a magical amplifier to his mouth and spoke with an almost annoyingly light tone.

“Ah, ah. Can you all hear me?”

No answer.

But the man grinned like he didn’t care.

“Mm. Works perfectly. What a relief, right?”

“…”

“Hmmm… The mood here’s a bit grim, huh. Not that it matters. The admins are in charge of keeping spirits high, after all. Anyway! Let’s skip the foreplay and get to the main event!”

He settled into the chair on the stage and looked out at the dozens of gathered slaves.

“A lovely weekend. You were probably all lounging at home—and now, here you are! Sorry about that. But hey, what can we do? You gotta earn the food you’ve eaten, right? As you all know, there’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

“…”

“Whether you sell your body, work in a factory, or pickpocket, labor is labor. The type may differ, but work is work. That’s how it was supposed to go today too. But lo and behold! For the first time in forever, our guild got a special commission!”

Each time the man spoke, a chill ran down the girl’s spine.

Prostitution, drug trafficking, factory labor, pickpocketing—

These were the types of jobs the slaves could choose from.

Since the moment she arrived in this place, the girl had dedicated herself solely to factory work.

She took the beatings, yes—but at least she had preserved her purity. 

She had avoided contact with others, save for the occasional abuse from her supervisor.

Her working hours were longer than the others’, maybe. 

But she held onto that final shred of dignity—her untainted body—and buried herself in her labor with grim resolve.

Then, one day, he appeared.

A man inspecting the factory—the very man who now stood on the stage.

Back then, he had a strange way of speaking. His tone would rise and swell with emotion the more he talked.

But that wasn’t a speech pattern. It was a ritual. A prelude to murder.

As soon as he finished talking that day, he had pulverized a manager right on the spot.

And now—

The same tone, the same rhythm, the same man was speaking again, passionately, from the stage above.

“The job is a dungeon inspection! Our guild received a request to send in some of our workers to scout a dungeon and report any potential threats. Naturally, I accepted. Why wouldn’t I?”

“…”

“So! Back to the point. All the workers gathered here today are—let’s be honest—underperformers.

Trash.

But rejoice! I’ve decided to give you failures one last chance. 

Not all of you, of course. Only those who show a sliver of potential for rehabilitation.”

He smirked and accepted a list handed to him by a nearby administrator.

“Now then, if your name is called, step forward. 

First up! 

Worker number 78!”

One by one, the man read names off the list, and the slaves called forward gathered at the front of the platform.

Among them—was the girl.

Her real name had been stripped away long ago.

She was now known only as Worker 128.

Limping on shaking legs, she forced herself to join the others, standing at the base of the platform. 

She looked out at the rest of the slaves who hadn’t been called.

Then, bracing for the horror that was about to unfold, she shut her eyes tight.

“All right! Everyone I’ve called will be part of the advance team accompanying us on this dungeon expedition!”

“The rest will be disposed of. Admins, prepare the remaining slaves for market or disposal. If they’re not worth anything… well, you know what to do. That’s all!”

With that, the man turned and exited the room.

And almost instantly, screams and cries erupted from every direction.

The girl stood still, feeling the warm spray of blood hit her face.

Eyes shut, she stared into the darkness behind her eyelids and thought:

The prince on a white horse she once dreamed of as a child—

The hero she imagined would come to save her—

None of them existed.

There were no white horses.

No princes.

And no heroes.

Which meant there was no salvation.

The world was still hell.