I Don't Need To Log Out-Chapter 272: Zar’veth (2)

Zar'veth's attack came without pause.

The moment Arlon saw the spell forming, he moved.

His body reacted before his mind had fully processed what was happening, instincts sharpened through years of battle forcing him into action.

He leaped to the side, his boots barely touching the floor before he propelled himself again, narrowly avoiding the jagged pillars of earth that erupted from where he had just been standing.

Magic.

The realization hit him mid-dodge, sending a shock through his mind even as his body continued moving.

This monster could cast spells.

That alone was enough to set it apart from every non-humanoid enemy he had fought in the Tower.

He had encountered monsters with unique abilities before, even ones with strange techniques resembling magic, but this was different.

This wasn't an innate ability or a physical attack disguised as a spell—this was actual magic, no different from what he or another mage would use in battle.

And it didn't stop.

Another spell shot toward him, this time a twisting surge of water.

It churned unnaturally, spiraling in midair like a serpent before slamming into the ground where he had been a second ago.

Before the impact even settled, the next spell was already forming.

Wind.

Then earth again.

Then something else entirely—an element Arlon didn't recognize.

His eyes narrowed as he weaved through the onslaught, each attack missing him by a hair's breadth as he focused on analyzing the spells.

He had already determined that the monster wasn't limited to a single element.

Its six arms moved fluidly, each acting independently as if they were six different mages casting simultaneously.

And each arm could use a different element.

At first, he thought it was just the usual four—Earth, Water, Wind, and Fire. But he quickly realized that wasn't the case.

Three of them were recognizable.

Earth. Water. Wind.

They were probably the same on all planets.

But the remaining three…

One of them crackled like lightning, but it wasn't quite the same. The energy had a deep red hue, flickering between streaks of crimson and flashes of gold.

It was unstable, its form shifting slightly as if it could barely contain its own power.

It didn't arc like normal electricity, nor did it spread through the air naturally.

Another was liquid, but it clung to surfaces unnaturally. When it hit the ground, it didn't splash or dissipate.

Instead, it oozed, stretching and sticking to whatever it touched like thick, black petroleum.

The last one was the most bizarre.

It looked solid—almost like refined ore. When it hit the ground, it didn't melt or fade away like a spell normally would.

Instead, it shattered into countless sharp fragments, scattering like broken glass.

The pieces gleamed under the Tower's artificial light, some sinking into the floor, others simply lying in place as if waiting for something.

Arlon's mind raced as he took all of this in.

These elements weren't completely foreign—at least, not in concept. He didn't know their names, but they followed familiar principles.

Maybe on other planets, they were as basic as Fire or Ice. He didn't have the knowledge to say for sure, but that didn't matter right now.

What mattered was understanding how to counter them.

With six arms casting independently, Zar'veth had no gaps between attacks. It didn't need to prepare spells sequentially or worry about downtime.

There was no rhythm to its attacks, no pattern to exploit.

This is an actual mage battle.

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That realization made Arlon smirk slightly despite the situation.

This was the first time since entering the Tower that he had faced a pure mage in a true one-on-one duel.

In every other battle, he had either been overwhelmed by numbers or faced enemies who relied on brute strength.

Even bosses had always been physical fighters mixed with magic, never pure casters except for the boss on the previous floor.

But it wasn't a one-on-one.

This was different.

This was like fighting a mage who had spent their entire life mastering the art of spellcasting.

And that meant he could use one of the techniques he had drilled into his body years ago.

The academy had trained him to fight in countless different scenarios. Swordplay, strategy, survival—but one particular lesson stood out now more than ever.

Counterattacking.

Mages, for all their power, were vulnerable when their spells were disrupted.

Even though he hadn't needed it back then, Arlon had never ignored a single lesson in the academy.

He had absorbed every technique, every strategy, every minor trick, no matter how unlikely it was that he would ever use them.

And now?

That patience was about to pay off.

Zar'veth launched another spell.

Arlon's eyes sharpened.

It was time to counter.

---

Zar'veth fell.

Arlon exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His body was riddled with injuries—not deep enough to be fatal, but enough to slow him down.

He planted his sword into the ground for support, his legs burning from exertion.

The battle had been longer than he expected, more grueling than he wanted to admit.

Even though Zar'veth was "only" level 300, it had pushed him harder than the floor 90 boss.

And yet, he won.

His heart pounded as he steadied himself, lifting his gaze toward the air above.

Normally, after clearing a floor, he would get a notification confirming his victory. But now, he wasn't looking for that.

What's the time outside?

With a simple thought, he pulled up his interface and checked.

The result made his breath hitch.

13:11 PM

"…What?"

He blinked, double-checking the numbers. Eleven minutes. He had been fighting for two weeks straight.

At this point, two weeks was nothing.

On the lower floors, he had spent much more. But now, since he was fighting against a single monster, he could finish the floor in two weeks.

But it had only been 11 minutes outside.

This much of a time difference was too much even for the Tower.

The implications sent a wave of shock through him.

His original plan had been to reach floor 100 before 19:00 PM, thinking that would be the limit of his time. But if the time difference was this extreme, then…

He could do it.

If this Tower really was only 100 floors, then he had time.

Arlon tightened his grip on his sword, his exhaustion momentarily overshadowed by a surge of determination.

He had been hesitant before, uncertain if he should really keep climbing. But now? If this was the end, if just one last stretch remained, then he would finish it.

No more hesitation. No more holding back.

The Tower would end.

And so would his time alone.