Chapter 19: Two path.

After finishing up the registration, Seok-Hyun and I stood in the middle of the bustling city square, surrounded by the chatter of strangers and the faint hum of machinery. It felt surreal—this strange modern world nestled inside the tower.

"We need to talk," he said, his tone steady.

I turned to him, tilting my head slightly, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm going to climb the tower," he said. "This place is just a distraction. The faster I grow stronger, the better my chances are. No point wasting time here."

I nodded, not particularly surprised. "Makes sense," I murmured.

"What about you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "I've had enough for now. Fighting, running, surviving—it's exhausting. I want to take a break. Figure out what this place is, maybe even... breathe for a second."

He frowned, as if the concept of rest didn't quite compute. "Taking a break won't help you climb the tower."

"Maybe," I replied, my voice flat. "But I'll manage."

His expression softened—just barely. "Do what you want, then."

I didn't care if he followed me or not. Honestly, it didn't matter. But just now, I think, I think there was a moment—just a flicker in his expression—that made me think he was genuinely worried for me. Why, though? I couldn't tell. Maybe it was just my imagination.

"We'll split here," he said, his voice as calm as ever.

"Sure," I replied, my tone lifeless as usual. There was no sentiment in it, no hesitation. Just words.

Seok-Hyun didn't respond back. He simply adjusted the straps of his gear and began walking in the opposite direction, heading toward whatever pursuit caught his interest. No goodbyes. No farewells. Just the sound of his boots fading into the distance.

After Seok-Hyun departed, his figure disappearing into the distance, I turned to Gark and Julie, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Go on. Lead me to this Clark Ball."

The two exchanged a glance before nodding, and we began walking.

The path we took was anything but ordinary. We passed creatures of all shapes and sizes, monstrous beasts saddled like horses, their riders looking far too at ease atop them. Further ahead, slaves lined the road, their wrists and ankles bound in thick, rusted chains.

Humans, I thought. My mutter was barely audible, but Julie's eyes flicked toward me for the briefest moment before returning to the road.

Each step felt heavier, not from exhaustion but from the weight of the scene around us. It wasn't shocking—nothing shocked me anymore—Everything can just done on a whim by a god after all.

*****

We then arrived at a grand mansion, its towering gates flanked by intricate ironwork and stone statues that seemed to glare down at visitors. Pyke and Jamie were already waiting, their figures outlined against the setting sun.

"Where's the white-haired dude?" Pyke asked, his sharp tone breaking the quiet.

"Gone. It's only her," Gark replied in a hushed voice. It was low, but not low enough. He either underestimated my hearing or wanted me to catch the words. Either way, I didn't care. Threatened? Hardly.

Pyke's gaze flickered to me, lingering longer than necessary. He smirked, a mix of curiosity and skepticism in his expression. "Huh. Let's see if she's worth all this effort."

Jamie, leaning casually against the gate, gave me a once-over before shrugging. "If Clark Ball's interested, she's already worth something," he said, his voice light but with an undertone of amusement.

I stepped forward, my face impassive. Their words, their glances, none of it mattered. Let them talk, let them judge. It was all background noise.

"Let's get this over with," I muttered, walking past them without waiting for an invitation.

Whatever these clowns had prepared for me, I'd deal with it—one way or another.

I made my way into the mansion and the interior of the mansion was just as extravagant as its exterior, every corner polished to perfection. Chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, their crystals catching the soft glow of light. Maids moved swiftly, left and right, their uniforms pristine and their expressions blank.

I looked around, unimpressed, before muttering, "What a fetish your lord has." The words hung in the air, and Julie stifled a cough that might have been a laugh.

Honestly, I didn't even understand why I was here. This whole setup felt unnecessary. Gark had been insistent, and I'd followed only because resisting felt like more effort than it was worth.

But then, something shifted. A sudden, sharp sensation pierced my thoughts—a faint pressure, crawling up my spine, foreign and unwelcome. My body moved before my mind caught up. I grabbed the nearest chair and hurled it with all my strength.

The crash echoed through the room as the chair barely missed Julie, splintering against the wall beside her.

"Hah…" My voice was calm, but my eyes narrowed as they locked onto her. "You bewitched me into coming here, didn't you?"

Julie froze, her seductive mask slipping for the briefest moment. Then she smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. "Oh, darling," she purred, "why would I need to bewitch you? You're far too easy to lead as is."

Her words grated, but I didn't lower my guard. Something was off, and I wasn't about to let it slide.

"Since when?" I asked, my eyes scanning the room for anything that could serve as a makeshift weapon. My voice remained calm, but my mind worked quickly.

Julie stifled a laugh, her lips curling into a sly smirk. "At the very beginning," she said, her voice dripping with amusement.

It clicked then. Gark's earlier inquiry about the results of me sizing them up weren't out of curiosity—they were calculated. I had let my guard down, and somewhere along the line, I'd been influenced.

I laughed softly, a hollow sound that carried no real humor. "Hah. You're funny."

Julie's smirk deepened, but I was already moving. "Maybe you will be excited to see how those monsters back then actually died."

"Manifest," I whispered, and in an instant, a glowing sword materialized in my hand. The weight was perfect, the balance, just the right measure, as if it had always belonged to me.

Sure, it consumed 3,000 mana just to summon, but I still had enough reserves to use during the fight. And even though this sword is a double-edged gamble—it would vanish the moment I ran out of mana. But I didn't care. For all I know, it was worth it.

A weapon that fit my grip so smoothly, one that felt like an extension of myself, much better than a stick.