...
Alright, alright! Don't look at me like I owe you something…
Well, technically, I do owe you chapters.
Anyway, it's been three months since I last posted.
…
THREE MONTHS!!
Yeah, I know, I may have gone a little overboard with that break. Feels like I turned into a mini-SIU with these random hiatuses. But hey, those three months were… special. Let's just say I "enjoyed life" (sybau I basically just lazed around half the time).
But it was about time I got back to work. I already promised I wouldn't drop this story… though, at the pace of a asthmatic snail, it might still take me years to finish it.
So here I am, coming back with two new chapters. Which is honestly pretty lame considering how much free time I had. No excuses. My bad.
Chapter 6 is a chunky one, full of endless rambling (yeah, I still have that annoying habit of overexplaining and cramming in way too much info). Result: it's painfully long to read. But I swear I'll try to make future chapters simpler and less of a slog. Chapter 7, for example, flows a bit better… but shhh, no spoilers.
As for the release schedule? No clue. I went back to studying, but luckily my timetable isn't that heavy, so I should still have enough time to write and translate (quick reminder: I'm not a native English speaker, so I rely on software to handle the translations).
Maybe one day I'll go on a writing frenzy and drop multiple chapters at once. Which also means I'll probably open a Patreon. Not just because I enjoy writing — especially when it's funny or exactly the kind of stuff I want to tell — but also to save up a little pocket money (sorry, I've officially embraced the dark side).
Anyway, I'll stop rambling. Enjoy the chapters, and happy reading ;)
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Looks like I'll need to… adjust a few plans.
The thought slipped into Baam's mind like a shadow—fleeting, yet heavy with meaning—awakened by the cold light of the bluish System window floating before his eyes.
His gaze remained fixed straight ahead, suspended in the void, his expression unreadable, one hand resting against his chin like an old philosopher lost in contemplation. Seen like this, one might have thought he was meditating on the meaning of life… or that he had simply tuned out of the conversation.
But around him, no one seemed to notice. The lively exchanges between Yuri, Headon, and Evan filled the air, eclipsing the still figure of the golden-eyed boy, who watched the invisible thread of his own thoughts unravel in a silence only he could perceive.
[Obtain Black March.]
The name of the quest imposed by the System still floated before him, a silent injunction, and Baam couldn't help but feel disturbed by it.
It wasn't the idea of possessing the Black March that unsettled him. In the original timeline, Yuri had handed it to him without hesitation, convinced that he could change the Tower. A risky gamble she had embraced, fully aware of the consequences.
No… what truly troubled him was the context. In the original timeline, Baam had been weak, pathetically weak, to the point that such a weapon was almost a necessity to survive the test.
But he… was not that Baam.
In this reality, he had already concluded he was strong enough to tear a Shinheuh apart with his bare hands. So why accept a weapon he had no need for?
Of course, the Black March wasn't just any weapon. It was one of the Thirteen Month Series, legendary, of immeasurable power. And, judging from what he had seen in the Last Station arc, the weapon seemed almost made for him. A natural affinity.
But to receive the Black March was also to accept the trouble that came with it. And those kinds of problems… he preferred to avoid.
He could refuse. The System imposed no penalty, no countdown. He had the choice.
And that was precisely the problem.
It could create entropy… he thought, brows knitting slightly. If I refuse, the future might be altered.
He had known this moment would eventually come, from the very instant he set foot in the Tower. His knowledge of the events through the webtoon was a tremendous advantage… but a temporary one.
Every decision risked changing the course of his destiny. A vast destiny, awaited by many. Alter even a single piece, however small, and the entire structure might waver.
The butterfly effect was terrifying. If he refused the Black March, there was no guarantee Yuri and her team would come to the Second Floor. After all, in the original timeline, their presence had hinged on one main reason: retrieving the weapon he had borrowed.
Without Yuri… Endorsi Zahard and Anaak Zahard could very well fall under the blade of the R.E.D. assassin sent by the Zahard Family.
Not that he particularly cared. Admittedly, he did like them, in a sense. But in this reality, they were nothing more than strangers. And even if he were to meet them later, he knew he wasn't ready to risk his life to save people he had only known for a few months.
Still… things would hardly be that simple if it all boiled down to the death of those two Zahard Princesses.
In truth, the real problem lay elsewhere. That R.E.D. assassin wasn't just a regular participant: he was a disguised examiner. Without Yuri's intervention, his vessel would have survived… which meant he could expose Baam's status as an Irregular.
A catastrophe.
If the Zahard Empire and the Ten Great Families learned that a new Irregular had entered the Tower, he would be hunted down at once by the powers that ruled this world. Some would seek to eliminate him. Others, to claim him, fascinated by what he represented: a being of infinite potential, of unimaginable power.
And Baam knew it well: the first of the Ten Great Families to come after him would no doubt be the Lo Po Bia Family. Not only because they would be the first informed—the assassin in question, Lo Po Bia Ren, being one of their own—but also because their Family Head would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
In the webtoon, Baam had seen just how far that man was willing to go to get his hands on him… and that was when he was one of the least active Family Heads.
To become the pet of that obsessed hermit? God forbid!
And the worst-case scenario—yes, there was worse—would be Zahard himself, the King of the Tower, coming to take his life.
It was said that, at this time, the King was slumbering in a long hibernation… but who could say whether that wasn't just a convenient lie to hide his true schemes?
After all, he had appeared instantly in the Hidden Floor the moment things went awry there.
Perhaps he had awoken, like someone rising from a deep sleep? Whatever the case, Baam had no intention of wasting time speculating about a god's sleep cycles.
What truly unsettled him was the possibility of Zahard discovering his real identity: the son of the woman he had loved… and the child he himself had killed with his own hands.
Ironic, when you think about it. To die twice at the hand of the same man—even if, technically, it would be the first time for him, since Baam had not yet transmigrated back then.
But irony did little to bring a smile when you remembered that this being, revered as a supreme god by his people and ranked Third among all Rankers, would hunt him down to the depths of the Tower.
Nothing encouraging about that. In fact, it made Baam long for that rotten void where he had been trapped for a year… just to have time to think.
All in all, though, these were only speculations. Odds were, Ren had no idea he was an Irregular… And with good reason: never—and he meant NEVER—would Baam repeat the same mistake as the naïve fool who once occupied this body.
That idiot had thought it brilliant to announce, loud and clear before a gathering of Regulars—Rankers among them—that he was an Irregular.
Seriously, who in their right mind would publicly brag about belonging to the single most feared and dangerous category of beings in the Tower, just to help some petty girl move on to the next Floor? Only for her to stab him in the back afterward?
No. Not this time. No way I was repeating that same sh*t, Sherlock.
But even then, nothing guaranteed it would truly save him from trouble. In this Tower, every possibility was something to be feared. Who could say that stick-insect of a man wouldn't uncover his identity through some unexpected means?
And then there was Rachel. That b*tch alone could expose him to the whole world if she realized he had no intention of offering her his hand. And knowing her nature, she would likely drag him down with her just for the thrill of it.
All these possibilities, all these potential threats, swirled in his mind until they gave him a headache.
Caution was good… but push it too far, and it verged on paranoia. Some of his own theories even seemed absurd to him, especially since FUG would surely erase any sensitive information about him that might leak beyond the Second Floor.
But again, there were no guarantees.
Thinking it over, the wisest course was likely to accept the Black March and follow the canon path as closely as possible. Sure, it would expose him to the same problems as the Baam of the original universe, but at least he would be walking on ground he already knew.
For now, he had to stick to the script and exploit his knowledge of the future to survive. Because, as powerful as he already was, it was nothing compared to the titans who ruled this sea of monsters. If his status as an Irregular were revealed too early, it would be a disaster. Even canon Baam had struggled immensely after covering much more ground.
So, unpleasant as it was, only two options remained—those offered by the System: choose the harder path… or the less hard one.
Petty, he thought. As useful and compliant as the System seemed, he didn't trust it. He had no idea where it came from, what its true intentions were… or whether there even was a creator behind it at all. The fact that it refused to reveal anything under the excuse that he lacked Divinity only made things more suspicious.
But what could he do? The System and he were bound, literally, by his soul.
Would it stay with him for a limited time… or forever? He didn't know, and now wasn't the time to worry about it. For the moment, he had to take advantage of its benefits—until he was strong enough to discard it.
As for the hidden intentions behind the System… whether good or bad, he already had enough vultures trying to manipulate his life from the shadows. FUG and its Leader, the Revolution, and all the other powers dreaming of sinking their claws into him… He would deal with them first, before worrying about the System.
And for that, he needed it—at least until he could wipe out those parasites as quickly and efficiently as possible.
Especially since, right now, an Ancient God was sleeping within him, and its followers had only one wish: that he would take its place.
Baam placed a hand over his chest, feeling through his plain yet silky clothes the heavy presence that dwelled inside him.
Yeah… this body carried far too many souls. The former Baam, himself, that True God of FUG… and the billions of souls he would eventually collect aboard the Hell Express.
A real mess.
But more seriously, the real problem was that he had no idea how to deal with that specter… that fallen deity… and, to top it off, the father of the former owner of this body.
He had no clue how to get rid of it. His body, his essence, his soul, and his spirit might have been reshaped thanks to that Transcendent-rank Attribute… but that didn't change the fact that an intruder lived within him. And he had no intention of tolerating that parasite.
Maybe the man had promised to fight Zahard and the Ten Great Families at his side… maybe he had even sworn never to completely steal his body… But nothing proved those words sincere.
Either way, there was no chance Baam would allow anyone, no matter who, to reside in him without his consent.
But he had no idea how to fix it. Before being sent here, he had only been a mortal, powerless, in a plain and insignificant world.
The blessing he had received had transformed him profoundly. His mindset, far more mature than the original Baam's, had hardened under the hell of that lonely void he had endured.
But at his core, he was still just a human entrusted with powers far too great for him, thrown into a game of manipulation beyond anything he could imagine.
Still, he refused to give up.
His situation might seem hopeless… but he had the System on his side. Even if that so-called divine, all-knowing program remained a mystery—and could very well be the very cause of his arrival in this chaotic world—he couldn't change it.
And besides, the System helped him more than it hindered him. Demanding more would make him a spoiled child.
His fist clenched. His golden eyes glowed with a strange determination, a flame he hadn't felt in a long time.
At the end of the day, being in the Tower was still an opportunity. A chance to seize a better life… one he would shape according to his own will.
He just needed to keep moving forward, stay discreet, and grow strong enough that this Tower would understand he wasn't prey to be hunted… but a beast better left alone.
And, childish as it might sound, he wouldn't let anyone choose this new life for him. Not even a god.
"… Very well."
The soft, feminine yet firm voice rang in Baam's ears, pulling him from his long inner monologue.
It was Ha Yuri Zahard. For a while now, she, her Guide, and Headon had been locked in a serious discussion. The subject? The indecency and danger of proposing to hand over one of the Thirteen Months to anyone other than a Zahard Princess or the King himself.
Though Yuri often seemed like the type to act on impulse, without thinking of consequences… she knew how to be lucid when the situation demanded it.
Because if the Zahard Empire were ever to learn that she had entrusted the Black March to a man—and worse still, to an Irregular—both she and her Guide would face a fate far worse than death.
Evan, in fact, shared the same concern.
The poor silver-haired dwarf looked on the verge of a heart attack… the situation had completely overwhelmed him.
"Hey, newbie!" the Princess called sharply, her piercing eyes settling on Baam. "What's your name?"
The boy remained impassive, but inclined his head slightly in respect.
"My name is Baam. The 25th Baam," he answered with a faint smile. "A pleasure, Miss Yuri."
One of Yuri's brows lifted at the sound of that name. Who would name their child 25th Night?
Yet she quickly decided it wasn't of much importance. Irregulars had always been strange… but in a way, she found the name rather charming.
"Well then, Baam… do you want to climb the Tower, or abandon now?" she asked, her voice sharp and cutting, like a blade slicing straight through. And yet, behind her vivid eyes, a burning, indomitable curiosity shone.
Who wouldn't want to know the intentions of an Irregular? Those rare beings capable of forcing the Tower itself to open its gates for them.
Even Evan, still dazed by how things had unfolded, held his breath, ears pricked.
Baam sensed their curiosity. He allowed himself a faint smile. Was it coincidence that this question came precisely after the storm of thoughts that had passed through his mind? Perhaps… perhaps not. But he cast aside the idea. What mattered was his answer.
And this time, he chose to answer with a sincerity he rarely allowed himself. A truth—not whole, but enough. Yuri and Evan needed to understand. And so did that pest Rachel, lurking somewhere in the shadows.
"I'll be honest, Miss Yuri," he said, voice clear and steady. "I know the Tower is dangerous… even from the very First Floor."
His gaze flicked briefly to the massive cage, where the low growls of hungry beasts rose.
"But… it's unthinkable for me to abandon now, before I've even begun."
The Princess arched a brow, then a sly smile curved her lips.
"If you show that much determination… then your goal must be important."
"No."
The reply cracked out, dry and unexpected. Yuri and Evan exchanged a quick glance, startled.
Baam shook his head gently before continuing:
"I already told Mister Headon… but I should explain it to you as well." He paused, weighing his words. "I don't have a noble cause, or some grand dream like so many others."
His eyes briefly met Yuri's scarlet gaze, fixed squarely on him.
"My goal is simple: I want to survive."
His voice did not waver.
"It may sound trivial… but to me, it's more than that. I want a life that isn't constantly under threat. A life where I decide. What I want. When I want."
He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, then rested a hand on his hip.
"But… I'm not naïve, despite how I look."
A sigh escaped him, annoyed by that gentle face of his that deceived others.
"To reach that goal, I'll play my part… in my own way. Yes, I'm an Irregular, as you say. I don't know why my kind are so feared, but I'm not here to change the Tower like those before me."
He lifted his head, his gaze burning with calm determination.
"I owe nothing to anyone. I have no expectations to meet. Being 'special'… doesn't obligate me to anything."
No words left his listeners' lips. Even the Guardian of the First Floor remained silent, as though frozen in contemplation of Baam's words. Each withdrew into their own thoughts.
Well… that's unexpected, Yuri thought, brow twitching upward ever so slightly, caught between puzzlement and disappointment.
To survive…
Such a simple word, even banal. In the Tower, everyone wanted to survive. It was an instinct carved into the flesh and soul of every living being.
But for that to be the main goal of an Irregular… it felt almost cowardly. The mark of a man unwilling to take risks.
She didn't want to judge too quickly. But what he said ran against everything she had hoped for.
She, who dreamed of breaking the chains of a world bound by the laws of her father and the Ten Family Heads… She, who suffocated in the role of a Princess of Zahard.
An Irregular had finally crossed the threshold. A being capable of challenging the very structure of the Tower. And him… he refused to get involved. Refused to play the role.
She crossed her arms beneath her chest, her crimson gaze boring into the boy's as though searching for a crack. Her long tied hair slid lightly across her shoulder as she tilted her head.
Her voice finally broke the silence, dry, tinged with curiosity but edged with bitterness:
"So that's really it…? You risk your life climbing this Tower just to 'live as you please'?"
Baam didn't move. He knew exactly where she was heading.
"Not to change things… just to survive?"
A humorless laugh escaped her, her dark fringe swaying faintly before her eyes.
"You know… for an Irregular with such an opportunity, you're aiming unbelievably low. I expected more. Right now, it sounds... loose."
She was judging him. Like so many before her.
Baam turned his eyes away briefly. For a moment, it seemed as though he was staring at some invisible horizon, his thoughts drifting between worlds. Silence fell again, heavy, broken only by the distant crash of waves and the trembling of Shinsu, where the trapped eels stirred restlessly in the cage.
He drew in a slow breath. His voice rose at first as little more than a murmur:
"There's nothing wrong… with being a coward."
Yuri's frown confirmed he had her attention.
"Fear keeps people alive," he went on, his tone firmer now. "Bravery… gets fools killed."
His gaze darkened.
"Of course… I'd like to be like those heroes people admire, the ones who fight for justice, for freedom, the ones celebrated in stories. But without strength… I'd be just another smooth talker, crushed by reality. A corpse waiting for its grave."
A bitter smile ghosted across his lips as he stepped closer to her.
"And I won't pretend to be someone 'pure' or 'selfless,' like those hypocrites who hide behind grand speeches. Yes, I want glory. Yes, I want wealth, power, authority."
His voice sharpened, cutting through the silence.
"And I want them… for myself. Not to save the Tower. Not to change the world."
His eyes gleamed with a cold determination.
"And until I have the strength to claim those things, I'll remain in the shadows. Because the rat that survives lives longer than the lion that dies."
His fingers curled slightly.
"I don't yet know which powers rule this place… but I know how to recognize a threat. And I know how to crush it if it dares to aim at me. If anyone makes me their target… I'll make sure they regret ever being born. I won't seek out trouble, but I'll welcome anyone who brings it to me."
Evan shivered in spite of himself. Baam, however, stayed fixed on the princess. She stood impassive, yet the tension in her gaze spoke volumes.
Then, in a breath as cold and precise as a blade, he finished:
"All that matters is my survival. I am no chosen one, Lady Yuri. Just a man who wants to master his own fate. And for that… I won't give up anything. Not even myself."
He locked eyes with her. A heavy silence fell once more.
Think what you will, Yuri. But at least… I don't have to lie to myself to move forward.
The taut silence cracked suddenly with a soft chuckle, almost incongruous in the weight of the moment.
Yuri was laughing lightly, a hand raised to her lips. It was neither mockery nor disdain, but genuine surprise at the boy's unexpected words.
This Irregular's philosophy clashed entirely with her own. She, who lived for direct action, who met challenges head-on and scorned cowardice, was confronted with someone whose goal was survival and freedom above all.
Yet… there was something refreshing about his answer. No hypocrisy, no hollow speech — just a raw, unflinching truth.
That, at least, deserved her respect.
Few, even after centuries of life, dared to be so honest — and he looked so young. She wondered briefly what he had endured to form such a vision. But the thought didn't linger; after all, that was Baam's burden alone.
"I can't say I share your outlook…" she admitted at last, a sly smile curling her lips. One hand slid to her hip as her crimson eyes held his. "But at least you own what you want, without hiding behind fine words. That's rare here… and I respect it."
Her smile then tightened slightly. A shadow flickered in her gaze as a familiar figure came to mind — another Irregular with a strangely similar way of thinking.
"And besides… your view of life reminds me of someone. Another Irregular, forever chasing freedom… though far more arrogant, and ten times as annoying," she muttered, her voice tinged with irritation at the mere memory.
Guessing whom she meant, Baam answered only with a polite smile.
"Well, I'd very much like to meet that man," he said in a tone half-curious, half-jovial.
In truth, he and Urek Mazino — for it could be no one else — shared a surprisingly similar goal: absolute freedom.
And Baam couldn't deny he was eager to encounter one of his favorite characters in the flesh. But he had no idea how that meeting would unfold. The future was uncertain, and there was no guarantee they would become friends, as in the original story.
Perhaps they would be enemies.
Still, the idea that Urek would try to kill him over something trivial felt absurd. Urek wasn't like the Family Heads or Zahard, with their suffocating ambitions and corrupt designs. More likely, he'd just be curious, as he had been with Baam in the original timeline.
And frankly… Baam preferred to avoid any beef with The Strongest Man in the Tower — at least until he was capable of fighting on that level.
"For your sake, I really hope you don't…" Yuri muttered, faintly exasperated, before circling back with a small chuckle. "But you didn't have to play the philosopher just to sound more convincing."
Baam merely shrugged.
"I think I managed pretty well," he said with a faint smile.
He wasn't a poet, but he'd always wanted, at least once in his life, to deliver a line like the characters in the novels he used to read.
And just this once, he wouldn't deny he'd borrowed a spark of inspiration from a certain treacherous shadow… a cockroach that clung to survival, just like him.
"Well, well… you're starting to grow on me, boy," purred a playful, honeyed voice right at his ear. Warm breath brushed his skin, sending a shiver up his neck.
Before he could even process what was happening, Yuri had slipped to his side with feline ease, draping an arm around his shoulders.
The difference in height worked to her advantage: Baam's head was nearly pressed against her chest.
…Should I feel like a scoundrel or like the luckiest man alive? Maybe both… he thought, frozen in embarrassment.
Yuri, fully aware of the effect, only tightened her hold slightly with a sly grin, clearly enjoying his struggle between discomfort and… something else he refused to name.
"No matter how convincing your speech, you could still die here, you know," she murmured, her gaze locked on his. "Maybe not in this test… but in this Tower, there are countless things that can break you, to the point you'll beg for death. Because sooner or later, you're forced to fight for more than just survival."
Her tone, though serious, carried an undercurrent of concern beneath her casual airs — a worry she wouldn't admit aloud.
Baam met her eyes without flinching, a calm yet unyielding light burning in his own.
"You know… before I entered this Tower, I was ready to die. Well… not entirely. I didn't want my life to end, but I had no reason to fight for it either. In this world… in two worlds, in fact, there was never anyone who cared whether I kept breathing. And the day I vanished… no one would even remember I had existed."
He paused. The shadow of old memories, of another life, brushed against his mind.
"But then… after thinking long and hard, I chose to survive. Whatever it takes."
Once again, he had stolen a line straight out of a famous novel — a line he had always found striking, and one that, curiously, fit his situation perfectly.
Tower of God might have been his favorite story… but it was certainly not a place anyone sane would choose to reincarnate into knowingly.
And yet, here he was.
Stressful? Yes. Dangerous? More than anything.
But his life had changed, and now, there was no path but forward.
With the potential of this body and the added boon of the System… only a fool would waste such an opportunity.
Let the stares come, let the judgments fall. He would live — and he would live on his own terms.
And then… he really shouldn't complain too much. Things could have been far worse. He might have landed in a truly hellish world. Reverend Insanity, for instance…
Yeah… I probably would've offed myself at sunrise. No way I'd risk running into Spectral Soul, or some sly old monster smiling while he devoured me alive, whispering:
'The heavens deny me eternal life? Then I shall walk against the heavens.'
…Just thinking about it sent a shiver down his spine.
"Well, well… you win. No need to act like a desperate survivor," the Princess finally replied with a mocking smile.
She stepped back twice, then lifted her hand toward the empty air, her fingers closing as though grasping something invisible.
"Weapons Inventory. Visible mode," she declared calmly.
At her words, a burst of light erupted, flooding the corridor with golden brilliance.
Within the halo appeared a vast crimson-and-white platform, slender and curved like a crescent moon. Scarlet inscriptions glowed faintly along its edges. But it wasn't the platform itself that stole one's breath.
It was the dozens of weapons resting upon it, carefully arranged—needles, hooks, swords… blades of every shape and size, each one gleaming with a refined, luxurious aura, powerful enough to make the surrounding Shinsu quiver.
And yet, compared to just one of them, all the others seemed dull.
With a fluid motion, Yuri reached for the weapon she desired. A needle fine as a strand of hair, jet-black from tip to hilt, the grip slightly thicker and embroidered with elegant crimson patterns.
Two words were etched there, cursive and menacing: Black March.
The moment Baam activated his Shinsu Reading and laid eyes on it, reality itself seemed to rupture. Before him opened the eye of an invisible hurricane, a chaotic tide of waves surging in endless circles, Yuri and her weapon at the very center. As though an adult had carelessly scattered paper leaves, each vibration of Shinsu shattered into overwhelming fragments.
The pressure wasn't as unbearable as when he had dared to scan Yuri herself, nor as suffocating as the murderous madness he had felt from Headon. But his temples throbbed, a sharp and persistent irritation forcing him to avert his gaze.
And this weapon isn't even "ignited" yet… he thought, frowning. Seeing it in person is nothing like on paper. To unleash such a tide in the Shinsu when it's merely a B-rank ignition weapon…
A chill raced through him, instantly replaced by a flame burning within. His yearning to advance, to grow stronger, flared even higher.
"Here. This is the Black March," Yuri declared, extending the dark needle toward the boy. "I'll lend it to you… just for a moment."
"Princess Yuri!! You cannot!!" cried the small silver-haired man behind her, his voice tight with panic. "Do you even understand what kind of weapon the Black March is?!"
From the very beginning, Evan had never approved of the deal with Headon. How could anyone think of entrusting such a weapon to an Irregular?! And if the King of the Tower were to find out… it would be an unforgivable crime!
But Yuri—Yuri had that reckless boldness, that defiance of rules unique to her. In her mind, lending a legendary weapon was no different than… lending someone a cat.
Ignoring the protests behind her, the princess fixed her sharp gaze upon the boy.
"Take it," she said firmly, her tone allowing no retreat. "Keep that philosophy of yours if it's what lets you move forward. But promise me one thing, Baam… If anyone dares to stand in your way, no matter who it is… bring them down."
Her eyes softened, almost tender beneath the roughness of her words.
"So survive, kid… and try not to die in this cruel world."
Baam blinked at her words, then a faint, almost charming smile brushed across his lips.
"I've never really liked promises… because you can never truly guarantee them," he said, reaching out his right hand toward the weapon. "But there's one thing I am sure of—I will always follow what my instincts dictate."
The instant his fingers closed around the Black March, a wave of power surged into him. The weapon quivered softly—not in hostility for leaving its owner, but as though it accepted him. Perhaps even rejoiced.
A mocking breath drifted through his thoughts, and a crooked smile tugged at his lips.
Pff… this girl really is a tomboy, he mused, twirling the needle between his fingers, admiring the blade's abyssal sheen reflecting the golden glow of his eyes. But I get it. Imagine your wielder is a foul-tempered woman, dragging you along in her tantrums all the time… No wonder this weapon clung to Baam in the webtoon. And now, it's attached to me too, of course.
Lost in thought, Baam was abruptly jolted by a sharp Beep resonating in his mind—a cheerful chime, almost like the sound effect of a game.
He instantly knew what it was. The familiar voice of the System manifested, along with its azure window.
[QUEST COMPLETE]
[Objective achieved: Obtain Black March.]
[Evaluation: Partial Success.]
Baam frowned at the lines appearing before him.
Partial success? But I fulfilled the quest from start to finish…
He had no time to dwell on it. The System continued its assessment, relentless, indifferent to his confusion.
[Quest Difficulty: Low.]
[Acquisition Circumstances: Voluntary.]
[Due to the quest's low difficulty, the reward will be adjusted.]
Baam froze.
What now? Rewards adjusted depending on how I complete the quest?! That wasn't the case when I got my first quest to face the eels…
His eyes narrowed. Just the thought already soured him—given how easily he had acquired the Black March, the reward was bound to be trivial. Perhaps even pathetic.
Still, in a sense, the weapon itself was already a reward. Even if the loan was temporary… and almost unnecessary, since he didn't truly need it. The whole point was simply to keep the future on track.
But the System wasted no time. Its reply fell swiftly, cold and clear.
[The reason the rewards for your Floor Main Quest — The Ball — were revealed in advance is because it was your very first quest, meant to serve as the starting point of your journey through the Tower.]
[From now on, rewards will be evaluated based on each quest's inherent difficulty, and on the degree of success with which you complete them.]
The Irregular stood silent for a moment, then let out a resigned sigh.
Fine… Even if I can't know whether future rewards will truly be worth the risks of dangerous quests, at least it's reassuring. The harder the quest, the greater the reward.
His gaze drifted immediately to the dark needle still resting in his hand.
…System, can you analyze the Black March for me while I wait for my reward? he thought.
Perhaps he would gain clearer details through the System than from the vague explanations in the manhwa.
Almost instantly, the azure window returned before his eyes, cascading with cold, methodical lines.
[Item: Black March]
[Item Rank: B (Unignited)]
[Item Type: Needle — Ignition Weapon]
[Host Compatibility with Item: 85%]
[Item Description: The Black March is a needle, a basic weapon type in the Tower, designed for stabbing and piercing.
—Among all weapons of this category, it stands among the most formidable. It belongs to the Thirteen Month Series, masterpieces forged by the great craftsman Ashul Edwaru, and bestowed by King Zahard himself to one of his chosen Princesses.
—Like the other Thirteen Months, the Black March is a fragment of half the "Key to the Tower," which Zahard divided to forever seal the 135th Floor.
—As an Ignition Weapon, it houses Shinsu imbued with a soul, containing a feminine spirit. When ignited by its wielder, its rank rises from B to A, unleashing colossal power.
—Only those with sufficient compatibility may hope to ignite it, thereby revealing its true might.]
Hm… This is practically identical to what I already knew from the canon, Baam thought with a hint of disappointment. Nothing truly new, just details he considered almost superfluous.
Well… not entirely. One piece of data had caught his attention.
This "compatibility" function didn't appear when I analyzed the Pocket. Is it because the Black March is a weapon… or rather, a semi-living weapon? he mused, narrowing his eyes slightly.
He twirled the dark needle in his hand, his mind fixated on that specific detail.
I already knew Baam and the Black March made a good pair… but 85%? Why the hell such a high compatibility?
He hadn't even blinked before a new window burst open before him.
[Host! Your reward evaluation is complete! Would you like to receive it now?]
Baam gave an internal nod, curious to see what the System had in store.
[Congratulations, Host. You have obtained a B-rank Item: a replica of the Black March!]
…Huh?
His eyelids fluttered several times, as though to confirm he wasn't hallucinating.
But no—the message was clear, undeniable.
A replica of the Black March?
Surprise gave way to disbelief, and soon to simmering anger.
What the hell is this…?!
"Well then, I'll be going." The soft yet steady voice of the princess, her long black hair neatly tied back, yanked him back to reality. "With the Black March, your chances of passing this test have skyrocketed. But remember… a weapon, no matter how exceptional, is worthless in the hands of someone who doesn't know how to use it."
She turned with a grace bordering on nonchalance, ignoring the Irregular's inner turmoil.
"I wish you luck," she added, raising a hand in a simple farewell.
Baam froze, torn between confusion and a dull frustration.
A replica of the Black March? Seriously?
He didn't even bother to question how the System could create such a thing—after all, this program already carried the air of something divine. But what use could an imitation of such a singular weapon have? Wouldn't it have made more sense to give him something original, unique?
As his thoughts tangled, his gaze slipped, almost against his will, toward Yuri's departing figure. Her slow, assured stride carried a natural insolence, her short red skirt swaying with each step.
The boy's indignation ebbed, just a little, replaced by another kind of unease.
Damn… she really does have an incredible ass… he thought shamelessly, before shifting his eyes aside, as if to feign a cleaner conscience.
A gooner? No. Just a normal man, reacting in the most… human way possible. Obviously.
"Thank you, Yuri," he finally said, his voice regaining a hint of composure.
His words made the princess pause, forgetting for a moment to listen to Evan's whining at her side.
"I promise I'll return it," he added simply.
Then, without another word, Baam turned his back. Needle clenched in his hand, he walked forward with a calm yet resolute stride toward the massive cage awaiting him.
At the Irregular's departure—and at the persistent silence of Zahard's Princess—Evan finally dared to speak. His tone had softened, a far cry from the man on the verge of a stroke he had seemed moments earlier.
"Princess Yuri, why go so far as to lend the Black March to that Irregular?" he asked, as if the question had been gnawing at him for some time.
Was it because of what he had said earlier about this stranger, this anomaly of a boy? Or perhaps…
"Don't tell me you've fallen for him?" he blurted out, his eyes flicking toward the princess's back.
There was no irony, no mockery in his voice. It was almost as if he were pointing out that such an act verged on a genuine crime.
Smack.
In reply, Evan received a sharp blow to the head, delivered without mercy by the princess.
"Shut up, idiot," she growled, scowling, faintly vexed.
The small silver-haired man grimaced, rubbing his throbbing head, but he refused to back down. This time, his voice carried more gravity, his tone tinged with an unusual sincerity.
"Princess… let me turn the question back to you."
He lowered his eyes to the floor, as if choosing his words carefully.
"After seeing him, after listening to him… do you believe that Irregular has the power to change the Tower?"
Yuri remained silent for a while. She wanted to act as though it didn't matter to her, but deep down, she couldn't deny that the question gnawed at her.
"I don't know," she finally answered, her voice clear. "He's a strange Irregular, even compared to the ones I've met before. Even you, a Guide, can't see anything in him."
Evan fell quiet, letting the princess continue, her gaze distant.
"But I'm certain of two things: either that kid is hiding something, or he'll inevitably change as he climbs the Tower. After all… no one comes out unscathed. Everyone who's climbed the Floors has become different from who they once were."
She paused, then allowed herself a faint smile.
"And that's precisely why I want to see whether his mindset is just a façade… or a truth carved into his very flesh."
Her eyes gleamed with amused light.
"And besides… I have to admit… that brat's starting to grow on me."
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I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
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