“That isn’t all,” Cho-Yeon murmured gently, unraveling the quiet that had settled around us.

Really?

I turned toward her once again.

“Even if The Coming Dawn embodies my long-awaited hope, there was very little I could tangibly do during his climb. Under the tower’s rules, offering overt assistance is strictly forbidden.”

“I figured.”

I still didn’t know where this new conversation thread was leading, but her solemn demeanor made ignoring her impossible.

“All I could manage were the smallest gestures. Little conveniences, subtle enough that no one would notice, or even if they did, they would dismiss them as trivial.”

That made me realize she wasn’t claiming that the tower had supported me through my trials—she was talking about the circumstances surrounding my indirect regression, the intricate web of circumstances that had been woven long before I became aware of it.

“Given the situation, the chances of anyone aligned with me forming even the faintest connection with you were so small it was almost nonexistent.”

“Are you referring to Hee-Jeong’s sponsor, Master of the Five Carriage Wheels?”

She nodded. “That is correct.”

Now that I thought about it, she was right. Even if I possessed the capabilities to conquer the tower and overcome every trial thrown at me, countless obstacles were simply up to chance. The clearest examples were choosing to become a mage and viewing the status window, which doomed my previous life to failure.

Everything, truly all of the tower’s plans, had collapsed instantly.

The present outcome had only come about because Ha Hee-Jeong’s patron was Master of the Five Carriage Wheels. Well, perhaps the scenario would have been technically achievable with someone else, but it would have been far more grueling. I suspected that the process—whether it was inside the tower or outside of it—would have unfolded differently if it involved another person entirely.

After our failure, Ha Hee-Jeong had returned to the bar we had been in moments before entering the tower. For anyone else to have passed on the message, they would have needed to return earlier, seek me out, and try to explain everything Ha Hee-Jeong had recounted. I had needed to make several key decisions even before I had stepped onto the first floor, after all.

Moreover, I genuinely couldn’t know whether I would have believed such a stranger, either.

It was an absurd story.

Yeah. If a stranger had spoken to me, their words wouldn’t have carried any weight, and I would have repeated the same mistakes from my previous life. On the first floor, before firming my resolve to reject the status window, the relentless stream of messages and suffocating pressure of a ticking clock had nearly pushed me into panic. Had the words come from anyone else, I would have been overwhelmed long before I even started climbing.

I had trusted Ha Hee-Jeong because it was her.

Of course, such hypothetical scenarios were pointless now, although the thought still had weight. The theoretical regressor would have to form a contract with either Omniscient Thunder Axe or Master of the Five Carriage Wheels, and even then, those gods would have to like them.

Nonsensical odds all around.

Considering everything, it made perfect sense that the tower had sounded so warm right before I entered the tutorial. That warmth likely contained countless years of anticipation, relief, and worry woven together.

What had unfolded would have only intensified the tower’s emotions. I had come close to dying more times than I would like to admit. Surviving despite those razor-thin odds and reaching this point was nothing short of miraculous. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Thinking about it now, the title “Seeker of the Crossroads” suited me rather well. During my journey through the tower, I had been presented with decision after decision that forced me to contemplate my future path.

Although I didn’t come to this realization at the time.

A sudden doubt stirred about my divine title. I had received it on the ninety-fourth floor, but at the time, it hadn’t come from any profound enlightenment—it had sprung purely from martial insights. I remembered that right after I had received it, I had wondered why it included “dawn.” The Tower of Ordeal’s explanation had helped me finally understand why. Although admitting this felt somewhat embarrassing, to the Tower of Ordeal, perhaps I was the dawn emerging after an age of darkness.

“Did you personally bestow my title ‘The Coming Dawn’? Or did it form naturally as I climbed the tower?”

Faintly embarrassed, Cho-Yeon turned her head away from me. “The latter is more accurate, but the former isn’t entirely wrong, either. To be more exact, it is both. The Coming Dawn is both the source of my own hope and the hope of all who have suffered.”

I had expected something along those lines, but hearing it out loud still made me flush.

I floundered for a second, nodding awkwardly, before gently redirecting the topic, “Then why did you stop me from visiting Natalie in the last waiting room? My connection to Poong-Lyeong was inaccessible as well.”

Startled by the sudden question, Cho-Yeon answered with a trace of unease, “My apologies. I didn’t obstruct it for any deeper intention. It’s simply that...”

She hesitated briefly, and I waited without rushing her.

Finally, she lifted her head. “I wished to be the very first person you saw after overcoming the ninety-ninth floor.”

“Huh?”

I unconsciously grunted in shock. Her response caught me off guard, and it almost felt like I had received a confession. Even if she had waited for me, that was rather abrupt.

Cho-Yeon hurriedly clarified, “Don’t overthink it. It is only that, on the ninety-ninth floor, the flow of time could only be perceived by you and me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Approximately twenty years passed. To me, that isn’t an objectively long span of time.” She searched my expression cautiously. “But I had awaited the approaching moment so fervently that those twenty years felt longer than the thousands that came before. Because of that, I hoped I would be the first person you met. I apologize.”

Cho-Yeon’s words caused a distant memory to stir within my mind, reminding me of a fairy tale I had once read back on Earth.

If I recall correctly, it included a small prince, although the details have grown a bit blurred with time.

In that story, a fox said something, and I did my best to recall its intent.

“Arriving at four o’clock would mean I already feel happy at three. As the hour approaches, I will grow increasingly restless with anticipation.”

The warm voice from the first floor resurfaced vividly in my mind. As I neared the top, perhaps Cho-Yeon had existed in that same state of restless longing. To be honest, she had endured far more quiet suffering than I had.

I looked at her. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You’ve endured just as much. Your journey was difficult.”

Cho-Yeon didn’t respond and instead smiled brightly, but her smile felt fragile for some reason. Perhaps my words struck something deep within her. A moment later, her eyes glistened, dampening as they became tinged red. I realized her smile bore a childlike innocence even as she cried in perfect silence.

She deserved that moment, and I waited for her to be ready.

After a brief pause, she finally choked out, “Thank you. Truly. Also... forgive me for showing such an unbecoming sight. No one has ever said anything like that to me.”

“It isn’t unbecoming. Anyone can feel that way. I meant what I said; I appreciate all you’ve done for me. Even if it aligned with what you desired, you still paved a path for me.”

We exchanged quiet, lingering smiles. With that, it felt as if everything had reached its conclusion. Strangely, although I had entered the floor with countless questions, most of them had dissolved naturally through our conversation.

I had discovered the reason behind my indirect regression, and I had finally heard the truth about challengers and the Primordial God, a question that had nagged at me for much of my climb. My small, scattered doubts suddenly felt insignificant. I couldn’t even recall most of them anymore.

Afterward, a mild awkwardness settled between us.

Hmm.

This was officially my very first meeting with the tower—at least, while knowing I was talking to the tower—and there wasn’t much left to say. Due to that, we didn’t fully know what to talk about after the emotional exchange. So, instead of forcing conversation, I organized the information I had drawn from our discussion.

First, I will become the Primordial God’s successor.

That was an undeniably startling truth, but I could hardly imagine a better outcome for myself. It wasn’t only for the people I had made promises to during my ascent, nor solely for Earth. It was for every being I would eventually shoulder the responsibility of protecting. As I neared the summit, I had constantly worried about what awaited me after conquering the tower. Now, those concerns had simply evaporated.

I still didn’t know the exact magnitude of the power I would receive, though.

“Will I inherit the Primordial God’s position here, on this floor?”

“Yes, that is correct. However, you won’t be able to receive all of His power.”

“What?” I frowned in confusion.

That contradicted what I had been told so far. She had chosen me instead of Kalain, right?

Does this mean there is an additional requirement? Or did I somehow miss something crucial while climbing the tower?

No matter how much I thought about it, nothing came to mind.

“What does that mean? What did I overlook?”

“No, Su-Hyeok. None of this is due to any mistake on your part.” Cho-Yeon shook her head firmly. “It is because another challenger reached the summit before you.”

“Because of Kalain?”

“Yes. According to the law, for a challenger to receive the full extent of the Primordial God’s power, they are required to exist alone without another claimant.”

Even before she elaborated, I understood exactly what she meant. It was clearly the work of other gods.

Assholes.

Of course, they had accounted for every improbable outcome. Even the condition requiring the tower’s explicit recognition had been added to eliminate any loopholes. Naturally, they would have accounted for what could happen afterward as well. Perhaps they intended to benefit from Kalain in some way.

If the first challenger failed to receive the tower’s acknowledgment, then the next challenger to appear would inevitably become the first’s enemy. In that inevitable clash, they likely hoped to seize whatever they could.

“So what happens now?”

“Only a portion of the Primordial God’s power will be transferred to you. You will receive the remainder only once Sky of the Nine Heavens has been eliminated.”

I quickly thought about the potential implications. The situation was unexpected, but it wasn’t disastrous. Truth be told, essentially nothing had changed. A confrontation with Kalain wasn’t merely something I anticipated—it had been a foregone conclusion from the beginning.

Right. It would feel wrong to obtain everything without overcoming a challenge.

It was disappointing in its own way, but I had only just learned the truth, so I hadn’t formed any real expectations. The larger picture remained untouched. If anything, receiving even a fraction of the Primordial God’s strength was nothing but beneficial. That was especially the case since the moment I stepped outside the tower, hostile gods would immediately try to interfere with me.

“So how much of that power will I receive?”

“Well, I can’t say for certain. It is impossible to know exactly how The Coming Dawn will manifest His power. If I were to make an educated guess...” she trailed off as she paused to think. “I believe you will become approximately as powerful as a first-class god.”

That revelation left me momentarily speechless. “Wow.”

“It is rather unfortunate. I understand that it may feel lacking compared to what you would have expected.”

“Huh? No. Lacking? How is that lacking?”

Compared to the complete inheritance—and Cho-Yeon’s point of view—it would feel insufficient, but that wasn’t how I viewed the situation. Thunder Axe had once explained that for a typical god, rising by just a single rank required anywhere from several centuries to several millennia. Of course, I wasn’t comparable to an ordinary god. Even so, this meant skipping an unfathomable amount of time.

At first, I had assumed I would receive virtually nothing. Hearing the full extent of what I would receive, however, I didn’t merely find it acceptable—I was overjoyed and grateful. To be honest, out of everything I had experienced since stepping onto this floor, this shocked me the most.

Just how immense is the Primordial God’s power that even a portion of it can elevate someone that far?

It made me wonder what would have happened if I had inherited all of it.

“Wait. Once I leave the tower, what will I be ranked?”

From what I knew, the hierarchy of gods varied depending on their individual strength, their subordinates, and their world. Ordinarily, one would begin as a fifth-class god. However, considering that I had already defeated a third-class god, it felt like I should start off higher than that.

Then again, perhaps I would still start as a fifth-class god. Even if I had some guesses as to how the system classified gods, I didn’t know the exact mechanism.

“Ah. The Coming Dawn won’t receive a classification.”

My jaw dropped. “Huh?”

“You are the challenger I chose. From the very beginning, The Coming Dawn was never meant to become a god.”