Dawn arrived on Floor 5 like a reluctant guest.
The sky or what passed for sky here was a perpetual bruised gray, lit by mana-lanterns strung along the guild district’s outer wall. Adonis had been up for an hour already, sitting on the edge of the narrow bed in the Crooked Lantern’s third-floor room. He’d washed the last of the swamp stink from his skin in a basin of cold water, sharpened the iron sword until the edge gleamed dully, and eaten a fist-sized lump of dense bread he’d bought for three Tower Points the night before. His stomach still felt hollow, but it no longer growled.
He arrived at the Iron Fang east gate ten minutes before first light.
The same gray-haired woman from yesterday sat on an overturned crate, sipping something black and steaming from a cup. She glanced up as Adonis approached, eyes flicking to the guild tag now hovering beside his name in the system interface.
"You're early" she said.
"Thought the escort was at dawn." said Adonis
"It Got pushed. Some idiot noble on Floor 7 had a tantrum about his caravan schedule. Supply run’s tomorrow now. Same time, same place."
Adonis felt a flicker of irritation but swallowed it. "Understood."
"You’re free until then. Don’t waste it playing around."
He turned away without another word.
Back in his room at the Crooked Lantern, Adonis sat cross-legged on the floorboards and opened his system interface with a thought.
The familiar red window bloomed in his vision—sharp-edged, private. No one else could see the color. To the rest of the tower it looked like the same bland blue everyone used. Only he knew the difference.
[Status Window]
[Host: Adonis]
[Level: 7]
[Stat Points: 5]
[Tower Points: 1,707]
[Core Stats]
STR: 14 [+6]
AGI: 19 [+8]
VIT: 15 [+6]
PER: 21 [+8]
INT: 3 [Hidden]
STA: 16 [+7]
[Skills]
[Basic Sword Mastery] (E-Rank)
[Blood Sense] (D-Rank)
[Flame Manipulation] (E-Rank)
[Current EXP: 1,240 / 1,850]
Below the personal status was a new tab that hadn’t been there yesterday.
[Guild: Iron Fang]
[Rank: Recruit]
[Guild Quests Available]
He tapped it.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
A short list unfolded.
Most were locked behind higher rank or reputation. But one quest sat at the top, marked as accessible to recruits:
[Quest: Goblin Purge – Floor 6]
Objective:Eliminate 30 goblins in the Dust Hollow region of Floor 6. Bring back their left ears as proof of kill.
Reward:1,200 Tower Points, Iron Fang Contribution +50
Time Limit:72 hours
Accept / Decline
Adonis stared at the numbers.
Killing 30 Goblins will definitely push him well past level 8—maybe into 9 if the fights went well. The Tower Points would almost double what he currently had. Enough to buy better gear. Enough to eat something that didn’t taste like sawdust.
He tapped Accept.
[Quest Accepted]
[Quest integrated into personal log]
He stood up, and left the inn without looking back.
Floor 6 was a different place from the swampy rot of Phantom Valley or the cramped rust of Floor 5.
The transition gate teleported him out onto cracked yellow earth under a sky the color of old parchment. Wind carried dust and the faint metallic scent of blood. In the distance, ruined stone walls rose like broken teeth—remnants of some long-dead city that had once stood proud before the tower claimed it. Now it was called Dust Hollow, and it belonged to the goblins.
They weren’t the small, green-skinned runts of old stories. These were lean, sinewy things—gray-green skin stretched tight over wiry muscle, eyes yellow and bright with hunger. They moved in loose packs, chittering in a language that sounded like breaking glass. Some carried crude spears tipped with scavenged metal. Others wielded jagged blades or clubs studded with nails. A few even wore mismatched armor—breastplates looted from dead climbers, helmets too big for their skulls.
Adonis crouched behind a collapsed pillar and activated Blood Sense.
The world shifted slightly. Faint red threads pulsed in the distance—life force signatures. Thirty-three distinct blips scattered across the hollow. Close enough.
He drew the iron sword. The blade felt lighter than it should have, almost eager.
The first pack was six goblins.
They were arguing over a half-eaten rat when he stepped into view.
The closest one saw him first. It shrieked—a high, grating sound—and charged with a spear on it hand.
Adonis sidestepped, sword flashing in a clean arc. The blade took the goblin’s head off at the neck. Black blood sprayed in a wide arc. The body dropped.
The rest swarmed.
He moved like water between stones.
A club swung for his skull—he ducked, came up with a thrust that punched through a goblin’s sternum. Another leaped from the side; he pivoted, let its momentum carry it past, then severed its spine on the backswing. Fire flickered at his fingertips—he snapped a small burst of flame into the face of the last two. They screamed as skin blistered and hair ignited. He finished them with precise cuts.
Six down.
He knelt, sliced off the left ears with quick, practiced motions, and dropped them into his inventory.
[Goblin x6 defeated]
[EXP +180]
He kept moving.
The hollow was vast—crumbling streets, dry fountains filled with dust. Goblins had turned it into a maze of ambush points and filthy nests. Adonis hunted methodically. He used the terrain: narrow alleys to force them into single-file, broken walls to block flanks, open places to draw them into groups so he could burn them.
Some packs were smarter than others.
One group of eight had a leader—bigger, wearing a rusted breastplate, wielding a cleaver that looked like it had once been a ship’s anchor. It barked orders in guttural snarls, directing the others to circle.
Adonis let them.
When they closed the ring, he dropped to one knee and unleashed a sustained burst of Flame Manipulation. Orange fire roared outward in a wide cone. The goblins shrieked as their skin blackened and clothing caught. The leader roared and charged through the flames—breastplate glowing red-hot, cleaver raised.
Adonis rolled left. The cleaver smashed into stone, showering sparks. He came up inside the leader’s guard, drove the sword through the gap beneath the breastplate, twisted. The big goblin coughed black blood and fell.
The rest scattered, burning and screaming.
He hunted them down one by one.
[Goblin x8 defeated]
[EXP +320]
The sun—or whatever passed for it here—had begun to dip toward the horizon by the time he reached the last group.
Nine goblins, huddled in the shell of a shattered temple. They had seen the smoke from earlier fights. They were waiting.
Adonis approached openly.
They poured out of the broken archway—spears, clubs, one with a short bow firing crude arrows.
He deflected the first arrow with the flat of his blade, ducked under a spear thrust, came up slashing. Blood sprayed. A club grazed his shoulder—pain flared, but he ignored it. He snapped a flame whip across two goblins’ faces; they dropped clawing at their eyes.
The fight became chaotic.
They pressed him hard. A spear grazed his thigh. An arrow nicked his cheek. Stamina dropped fast—each burst of flame ate at his reserves like fire on dry grass.
[Stamina: 82 / 160]
He gritted his teeth and pushed forward.
One goblin leaped onto his back—he reached back, grabbed its throat, slammed it into the ground, stomped until the skull cracked. Another stabbed at his ribs—he twisted, took the blade on the meat of his forearm, then drove his sword through the attacker’s heart.
The last three tried to run.
He didn’t let them.
Flame Manipulation flared one final time—a roaring column that swallowed them whole. They collapsed into smoking heaps.
Silence returned, broken only by the crackle of dying fires and his own ragged breathing.
Adonis knelt among the bodies. His hands shook as he cut the ears—nine more, sticky and warm. He added them to the pouch.
Thirty.
He stood.
[Quest: Goblin Purge – Completed]
[30 Goblin left ears collected]
[Reward disbursed]
[+1,200 Tower Points]
[+900 EXP]
The familiar chime rang in his skull.
[Level Up!]
[Level 7 → Level 8]
[Level Up!]
[Level 8 → Level 9]
[Stat Points +10]
[Current Level: 9]
[Next Level: 3,200 EXP]
Adonis exhaled slowly.
His body felt different—stronger, sharper. Wounds he’d taken during the fight were already closing faster than they should have. Stamina ticked upward, slow but steady.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the new strength settle into muscle and bone.
Time to leave.
He turned toward the distant gate back to Floor 5.
That was when the world tilted.
A cold, crawling sensation raced up his spine—like someone had poured ice water down his back. His vision flickered. For half a heartbeat, he saw it clearly: a glowing circle blooming beneath his boots, complex runes spiraling inward.
Déjà vu hit him like a hammer.
He’d seen this before. Not here—not exactly—but the feeling was identical. A trap. A summoning circle.
Instinct screamed.
Adonis hurled himself backward.
He landed hard on his palms and heels, sword still gripped tight, heart slamming against his ribs.
Nothing happened.
The ground stayed cracked yellow earth. No circle. No runes. No trap.
Just dust drifting in the wind.
He stayed crouched for several long seconds, breathing hard, eyes scanning every shadow.
Nothing.
He straightened slowly.
“Tripping,” he muttered to himself. “Just the adrenaline.”
But the feeling lingered—cold, uneasy, like eyes on the back of his neck.
He glanced at the sky. Evening light had turned the ruins bloody orange. The gate wasn’t far.
He started walking back to the transition gate.
