Seven days later...

  The days passed in a blur. Some of us trained, but the stat gains were barely noticeable. Sosuke was one of the few who didn’t stop. Day after day, he pushed himself to exhaustion, swinging, lifting, running—doing everything he could to squeeze out even a sliver of improvement. After a full week of that, his strength went up by one point. Just one.

  He didn’t seem to care. For someone like Sosuke, who dreams of becoming a god, even the smallest gain meant progress. For the rest of us, it just looked like madness. We only want to survive—to get out of here alive. He wants to transcend. That obsession of his must’ve impressed Mei. Those two have gotten close. Too close, honestly. I’m pretty sure they’re in a relationship now. It makes sense—she’s the only one who's as crazy, and he’s probably the only one who could handle her. Mei’s sharp, relentless, and has that quiet killer aura even when she’s relaxed. Sosuke doesn’t flinch from it. He probably finds it fascinating.

  It’s strange how fast the dynamics shifted. When we first were abducted by this tower, everyone was tense. Cliques formed naturally—people grouping up with whoever they trusted most. We’re all still on decent terms, but there’s a clear unspoken suspicion.

  If a fight broke out and Mei had to pick someone to stand beside, it’d be Sosuke. No hesitation. What’s weird is that they weren’t even on the same team back on the first floor. Somehow, she gravitated to him anyway. Maybe because he’s reckless in a way that mirrors her old life. Or maybe, for once, she found someone worth protecting.

  A Chinese assassin falling for a Korean otaku. How beautiful.

  We had done everything we could to prepare. Isabella’s power had grown the most out of all of us. She now wielded a golden cauldron that shimmered faintly when she summoned it. It wasn’t just for show either. She could move it and her stirring spoon with telekinesis now, though that ability didn’t extend to anything else. The cauldron itself had evolved beyond its original potency. It could now brew expert-tier potions with enough time and effort, and every batch guaranteed at least intermediate quality.

  She’d worked tirelessly over the last few days to stockpile supplies. Now, every one of us carried a small selection of expert potions, but Isabella had been clear. “Use the intermediates first. The experts are for emergencies only.”

  Her tone left no room for argument. The Dimensional Storage was almost packed to bursting with all the potions, food, and weapons. If we found anything new, we’d have to start throwing old stuff out.

  There was only one tier higher than expert—master-tier potions. She said the chance of successfully brewing one was so low it wasn’t worth wasting ingredients yet. Still, I couldn’t help but hope we wouldn’t need anything that strong anytime soon.

  The last floor had left us all on edge. The Mirror Deathmatch still frightened me. We had to break the tower’s rules just to stay alive. None of us wanted a repeat of that.

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  I sighed and unwrapped a piece of string cheese, trying to calm my nerves. The room was silent except for the soft tearing sound as I pulled the cheese apart.

  Whoosh!

  Everything vanished. The string cheese, the floor, the air around us—gone in an instant. My body felt weightless for a second before we were swallowed by a blinding white light.

  But this time, the white didn’t fade. I blinked rapidly.

  Cold.

  It seeped into my skin like invisible needles. My breath turned into mist the second it left my mouth. I wrapped my arms around myself instinctively, shivering.

  “Damn, it’s freezing...” I muttered through clenched teeth.

  A soft voice came from behind me. “You’re cold already?”

  I turned. It was Mary. Her hair was dusted with snowflakes that hadn’t been there a moment ago, and her expression was one of worry. What caught my attention, though, was her outfit—lighter than mine, almost completely unsuited for this kind of weather. Yet she wasn’t trembling at all.

  “Mary, aren’t you freezing?” I asked.

  She shook her head, her breath barely visible in the icy air. “It’s fine. I have a skill that blocks out abnormal body conditions.”

  I glanced past her. Behind her rose a range of mountains. Massive jagged peaks capped in snow and ice, stretching endlessly into the distance. The ground beneath us was blanketed in white, and the wind howled across the open tundra.

  So this was the next floor. A tundra.

  Giant Yeti?

  I spun around and saw it barreling up the mountainside toward us—an avalanche of fur and muscle. It was at least twenty feet tall, shoulders broader than any orc’s, each step crushing snow and sending ice crystals spinning into the air. No weapon in its hands, but its fists were the size of barrels. It would reach us within a minute if it didn’t trip on the slope.

  “Stay behind me.” I said it the same way you tell someone to get off a ledge.

  Mary fell back a few paces, breath fogging in the cold, eyes wide but steady. Her small frame looked even more fragile against that white mass coming at us.

  I extended my arm. “Fireball.”

  The single orb shot from the circle and struck the creature square in the chest.

  It thunked against fur and flesh. Steam hissed, but the yeti didn’t slow. It only looked up—head tilting, eyes locking on me—and the expression on its muzzle was almost amused. A grin, slow and mocking.

  You cocky little!

  Heat flared through my chest for a second—annoyance, more than fear. I forced both hands together. “Fireballs.”

  I stacked them, one after another, letting the energy thicken between my palms until the spheres piled like an arsenal. I had ten ready, each one lined up in my mind like a numbered chamber.

  They screamed out in succession like bullets, each fireball tearing a path through the snow toward that hulking shape.

  The yeti didn’t even twitch. It planted its massive feet, raised both arms, and charged straight through the barrage. Flames licked its fur and hissed off blubber and frost. For a moment the coat smoked, but the sparks only blackened the surface. Its breath steamed white.

  This wasn’t a normal monster. It felt wrong. Boss-tier wrong. The way it absorbed my spells and kept going told me everything I needed. This thing was designed to be a problem. Like the Evolving Sandworm before it, it was scaled beyond ordinary scale. And right now, it was outclassing me. The cold didn't even bother me anymore.

  The snow under my feet crunched with my teeth grinding. I’d sworn I wouldn’t lose ever again—but my spells were being shrugged off like annoying flies.

  I'm not taking any chances.

  “Weapon Gate.”

  Purple portals ripped open behind me, each one humming with glow. Six shapes tumbled from darkness into half-formation. They hovered, waiting.

  I reached back without looking and closed my fingers around a sword. I grimaced in anger.

  I’ll kill you personally.