noveldrama
Chapter 172
Chapter 172
“Hm, it seems Ragnar has finally found a remarkable candidate after so long. Don’t you all agree?”
Keratosuchus stroked his chin with interest as he gazed at the massive screen floating before him.
On the screen, Theo could be seen ascending the White Tower at an astonishing pace, as if he already knew the nature of each floor’s challenges.
“Even if he came from the future, this is truly exceptional.”
[The God of ?? opines that Theo isn’t just remarkable, but one of the greatest candidates in history, ????????.]
[The God of ?? muses seriously that Theo might be worthy of consideration for the Apostle title.]
[The God of Harmony ???????????? ….]
.
.
The reactions of the gods watching the White Tower were explosive.
Some of them were even on the verge of proposing the Apostle position to Theo right then and there.
The Apostle was a manifestation crafted by gods bound within the prison of causality. It served as their vessel for influencing the human world, allowing them to extend fragments of their divine authority.
Thus, throughout history, Apostles had left indelible marks, both positive and negative, in historical records.
Selecting an Apostle was a matter of great importance for the gods, as it not only impacted their reputation but also expanded their influence and followers.
And yet now, nearly all the gods seemed taken with Theo.
[The God of Causality wonders aloud if this candidate might finally allow the sealed realm of ??? to be revealed.]
At that sudden message, Keratosuchus’s expression darkened.
“Perhaps the God of Causality should choose their words more carefully. Even if it’s been ages since a promising candidate appeared, premature speculation and expectations often lead only to bitter disappointment.”
[The God of Causality grows despondent, their expression tearful, and their tail droops in dejection.]
Sigh!
Keratosuchus exhaled deeply.
Every time the gods behaved in ways unbefitting their dignity—crying, gossiping, ranting like scolding elders, or raving like madmen—he questioned his career choice.
I need to find the right candidate and close this chapter soon, he thought bitterly.
And then—
Flash!
A smaller screen popped up next to the one displaying Theo.
It was an alert, signaling the presence of an unpermitted intruder.
“Hm.”
Keratosuchus initially moved to expel the trespasser but paused in thought.
Upon closer inspection, the intruder was another Ragnar.
It appeared to be someone driven by envy over Theo’s progress.
[The God of ?? asks what the Administrator is thinking.]
“Oh, I was just considering Ragnar’s customs. They never stop challengers from proving themselves, do they? Should we really block this intruder on their behalf?”
[The God of ?? remarks that invoking Ragnar’s customs seems rather suspicious given the Administrator’s sly smile.]
“Ahem! It’s a misunderstanding, I assure you.”
[The God of ?? retorts that it doesn’t seem that way.]
[The other gods in the Pantheon voice their agreement.]
“Well, this seems like a great opportunity to test the candidate’s resolve and skill further. Let’s leave the intruder be for now. If it causes trouble, we can eject them then.”
[The gods hold a vote based on the Administrator’s suggestion.]
[Votes in favor: 156. Votes against: 21.]
[The majority vote has approved the Administrator’s decision.]
“Then, let’s see how this unfolds, shall we?”
A broad smile spread across Keratosuchus’s face.
***
"What the hell is going on?"
At first, Gishar had ascended the White Tower with unshakable confidence.
After all, how difficult could it be to conquer a place that had already been cleared by a mere child?
That confidence crumbled the moment he set foot on the second floor.
"Four swords at once?"
Initially, he thought Theo had failed—one of the challengers who looked just like Theo lay lifeless. But upon closer inspection, the hair and eye colors were all different, proving it was a fake.
The real problem was the aftermath of the battle.
Despite the floor having been conquered in just over 40 seconds, the intensity of the fight was unmistakable.
Judging by the destroyed walls and deep sword marks carved into the surfaces, it had been far from ordinary.
“They said he’s at the level of an advanced swordsman, but I figured that was just talk… Hmph! So, he’s competent, at least.”
Still, Gishar dismissed it with a sneer, convincing himself that Theo wasn’t much of a threat.
But when he reached the third floor—
"...Maybe he’s not below me."
For the first time, cold sweat trickled down Gishar’s back.
It wasn’t just the skillful handling of the greatsword. The precision and mastery of telekinetic sword control were at a level he couldn’t ignore.
It felt like battling four Theos simultaneously, each seamlessly coordinating their strikes.
Particularly chilling were the marks left by a single slash, cleaving through multiple opponents at once with unnerving sharpness.
And with every floor he climbed, the tension in Gishar’s chest only grew heavier.
The Fourth Floor
The next floor was an ordinary mansion.
It had a courtyard and the bustling presence of merchants passing through the area.
But the mansion looked as though it had suffered a brutal raid—engulfed in flames, with its skeletal frame exposed, and littered with corpses pierced by swords and arrows.
The masked raiders, who had seemingly tried to conceal their identities, all had their hearts pierced with precision. Their expressions remained frozen in shock.
It was a clear sign of ekigyeogeom—Theo’s telekinetic swordsmanship.
"Did he come to rescue this mansion under attack? But his methods... They’re so ruthless. Almost as if he were dealing with personal enemies."
Gishar began to carefully follow Theo’s trail.
However, one detail nagged at him: while Theo’s movements up to this point had been marked by efficiency, this floor showed an unusual degree of cruelty.
An excess of emotion.
"Who were these people, exactly?"
From what Gishar had observed so far, the missions on each floor were closely tied to Theo’s life.
If that were true, this event might have some connection to Theo’s trauma.
Kishar began pulling masks off the corpses, rummaging through their clothing for clues to their identities.
And then, he found one.
"These people… they’re Ragnar. Specifically, under the Central Intelligence Bureau…"
Could this be tied to the conflict between Theo and Ed?
But from what Gishar knew, Theo had never left Winterer before the age of fifteen. There hadn’t been enough time for him to develop such a traumatic experience.
"Something about this doesn’t add up."
As Gishar wandered the outskirts of the mansion, he stumbled upon another critical clue.
It appeared to be the raiders' main camp—another site where Theo had fought.
The area was littered with the corpses of warhorses.
Despite attempts to disguise their origin with mismatched barding, Gishar immediately recognized them.
These were dragon steeds, a breed uniquely bred and managed by Ragnar.
And only one place used dragon steeds.
"So, the Central Intelligence Bureau is one thing, but why was the Black Steel Corps attacking this mansion…?"
The deeper he delved, the more questions arose.
***
As Gishar climbed through the fifth and sixth floors of the White Tower, both of which seemed to evoke the surreal qualities of a dream, he was forced to confront a truth he had desperately wanted to ignore.
“He’s already on par with the Dragon Gate Swordsmen. He’s not falling behind in the slightest.”
Though he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud, Gishar suspected that Theo might already surpass him.
But what terrified him most wasn’t Theo’s current strength.
“He’s getting stronger. Relentlessly. How is it even possible to grow so much in such a short span of time?”
Unaware of Theo’s secret weapon—the Chronograph bestowed by the Mage Empress—Gishar could only speculate.
Theo had been accelerating his perception of time to the maximum on each floor, analyzing past battles, refining his insights, and devising strategies for the current challenges.
The inspirations granted by the sword orbs were growing ever sharper, and even Gishar could now sense Theo’s growing intensity.
No—this wasn’t mere intensity anymore.
It was madness.
A burning, all-consuming madness to grow stronger.
“I’ll have to kill him. Without fail.”
Gishar resolved to change his approach.
Initially, he had only wanted to teach Theo a lesson, to remind him of his place.
But now, Theo had become a sapling of potential, one that could outgrow and overshadow him. A rival far more threatening than Torquel.
Fortunately, Theo’s traces hinted at increasing exhaustion.
Shiiing!
Gishar unsheathed a blade from his sheath, its edge gleaming with murderous intent.
Quietly, deliberately, he moved toward the stairs leading to the next floor.
His steps were cautious, calculated. He intended to mask his presence completely.
But his determination was shattered as soon as he reached the eighth floor.
“What… What is this place?”
The Eighth Floor
The scene before him bore no resemblance to anything he had encountered in the tower so far.
A sprawling metropolis rose around him, its gray concrete buildings forming an immense skyline.
Towering structures loomed over the horizon, far surpassing even the grandeur of the imperial capital.
This wasn’t merely a city—it was a future city, one pulled straight from imagination.
“Take care of your skin!”
“Specialized Math Academy for Exam Success!”
Neon signs and unfamiliar advertisements flickered everywhere, filling the air with vibrant color and chaotic energy.
Gishar, who had experienced countless luxuries and opulence, was overwhelmed for the first time in his life.
The sheer scale and pressure of this city seemed to suffocate his very spirit.
The streets were teeming with people.
They wore strange, clean-cut suits and carried peculiar bags, rushing about with purpose.
Although they cast curious glances at Gishar, whose sword and appearance were out of place, no one stopped to question him. They simply continued on their way.
On the smooth roads, strange machines encased in metal carried people effortlessly, moving at speeds that rivaled warhorses.
Between the buildings, what appeared to be trains sped along elevated tracks, devoid of steam or visible energy sources.
The air was stifling, polluted to the point that breathing was difficult.
But what struck Gishar most was the absence of mana.
“Have they thrown me into a completely unfamiliar world where I must refrain from recklessly using magic? But what connection does this place have to Theo?”
The color gray seemed to define this city perfectly.
While the previous floors had felt somewhat familiar despite their differences in era, the eighth floor was entirely alien—an entirely different world.
How was he supposed to find Theo’s traces here?
For the first time, Gishar felt truly lost.
***
Meanwhile
Theo had already reached the 10th floor.
“I expected my past life to appear to provoke trauma, but I didn’t think Seoul itself would show up...”
The events of the 8th floor still lingered vividly in his mind, as though they had happened mere moments ago.
The truth was, Theo barely remembered anything about Earth.
All he could recall was his name—Yoo Taeo. He had no memory of his family, job, or much else.
He had always assumed, based on a few fragmented memories, that his previous life had been an unfortunate one.
But now, for the first time, he had confronted a piece of those memories.
The mission had been straightforward:
- Find your ‘original self’ and kill them.
In a sprawling metropolis with a population of ten million, how could anyone be expected to find themselves without a single clue?
Yet, by using the Chronograph and piecing together fragments of his sparse memories, Theo had eventually located himself in a southern district of Seoul called Pangyo.
There, he found a young man sitting in front of a machine he recognized as a computer. The man had hollow eyes and a cigarette dangling from his lips, his expression bleak but determined.
“...I have to finish it. Complete it...”
Even after killing the other Yoo Taeo, Theo couldn’t bring himself to leave for a long while.
He stared at the monitor displaying a blinking cursor, waiting for the next command as though it held answers.
It wasn’t until Lodbrok urged him to move before his buffs expired that Theo finally forced himself to ascend to the 9th floor.
But just then—
[You have completed a hidden condition.]
[Access to restricted Tier 1 information is now available.]
[The filtering system has been disabled.]
[You are currently running the 132nd beta service.]
[A new patch is being installed.]
[1%, 2%, 3%... 16%, 17%... 69%... 79%...]
Messages began to flash before Theo’s eyes. Most were as incomprehensible as ever.
But one thought struck Theo with sudden clarity: the messages reminded him eerily of the scene on the monitor before the deceased Yoo Taeo.
[The God of Causality gazes at you with sparkling eyes.]