A Necromancer's Guide to Clearing a Game Like Tower

Chapter 126: Chapter 126: a scythe

The sky had closed again, but the floor did not feel like a floor anymore.

James was on one knee in the mud with one hand around his own throat. The grip was gone. He could still feel it. Five points of cold pressed into his skin where her fingers had been, and no amount of breathing pushed them out.

Around him the square was wreckage.

Ronan was on his back near the broken shield, eyes half open, chest moving and not much else. Finn sat in the mud with one arm pressed to his side, trying to get upright and failing the first time. Cillian was on his knees a few meters off, cradling the burned arm against his chest, lightning long gone from his hands. Maeve was the only one still standing, and she was standing the way a person stands when sitting down would mean not getting back up.

The Dark Knight’s body lay where it had fallen.

The Succubus Cross was dead on its broken base.

And in the center of all of it, the golden angel stood like none of this had cost him anything.

He had not moved since Alice left. The light came off his wings without flickering, steady and clean, and it did not match a single thing around him. The mud did not touch him. The red haze did not reach him. He simply stood there and watched the five of them breathe.

Then he spoke.

”Congratulations, humans.” His voice was calm, almost warm. ”You have cleared an important story.”

The words seemed to reach something the floor had been holding shut.

The clear screen finished in front of James all at once.

[FLOOR 15 SIDE STORY CLEARED]

[BOSS DEFEATED: DARK KNIGHT OF THE SUCCUBUS CROSS]

[SPECIAL INTERFERENCE RESOLVED]

[CLEARING PARTY: TEAM ZERO]

James read the third line twice.

Special interference resolved.

The System had a word for what had walked down out of that sky and put its hand on his throat, and the word was interference. Whatever Alice was, she had not belonged to this floor. The Tower itself was saying so.

He kept that to himself.

The stream still hung in the corner of his vision, viewer count frozen high, the chat moving in a blur. The people on the other side of it could see the square and the angel and the bodies. They could not see this. The clear screen, the warnings, the private text — none of it reached the feed. They only saw Team Zero stop bracing for the next blow.

The village began to dissolve.

It did not collapse. The houses, the shrine stones, the cracked mud, the dead bell — all of it started to lose weight at the edges, going thin and pale and lifting away like the story that had held them down had finally let go.

Maeve dropped beside Ronan first.

”Don’t,” James started.

”I know how recovery works,” she said, but her hand was already on Ronan’s chest, checking.

She did not need to. The Tower took it from there.

The wounds did not close. That was not how it worked. But the killing weight came off all of them at once. Ronan’s breathing went from ragged to deep. The black at the edge of Finn’s side stopped crawling inward. Cillian’s burned arm still looked like a burned arm, but his face unclenched. The bleeding slowed everywhere it had been running.

The angel watched without hurrying them.

Then the System began handing out what they had earned.

[CALCULATING CONTRIBUTION...]

[MVP: JAMES GANNER]

[REASON: STRATEGIC OBJECTIVE IDENTIFICATION / FINAL BOSS DAMAGE / PARTY SURVIVAL CONTRIBUTION]

[MVP BONUS REWARD GRANTED]

[CLASS-SPECIFIC SKILL BOOK AWARDED]

A weight settled into James’s hand.

It was a book, black-bound, the cover worn smooth and cold against his palm. No title showed on the front. When he turned it over, the System gave him the name.

[SKILL BOOK: GRAVE COMMAND]

He did not open it. He could feel the shape of what was inside it without looking, the way he could feel a summon waiting in a slot, and the shape was big. Bigger than anything he had learned since Reanimate. He closed his hand around it and put it away for Earth, where he could read it without five injured people and a glowing stranger watching.

The floor reward came next.

[FLOOR 15 SIDE STORY CLEAR — BASE REWARD]

[TOWER CREDITS AWARDED: 8,000 TC PER CHALLENGER]

[STORY CLEAR EXP POOL DISTRIBUTED]

[MVP TOWER CREDIT BONUS: 12,000 TC]

[TOWER CREDITS: 45,315 → 65,315 TC]

Then the EXP landed, and it did not stop where a normal floor would have.

[JAMES GANNER — LEVEL UP]

[LEVEL: 19 → 24]

[ALL STATS +5]

[UNSPENT STAT POINTS GAINED: 25]

[NECRO BLAST PROFICIENCY INCREASED]

[REANIMATE PROFICIENCY INCREASED]

[DEATH CHAIN PROFICIENCY INCREASED]

Five levels off one floor.

James left the stat points where they were. There was no sense throwing them into anything standing here, with the village coming apart around them and a fallen angel’s handprint still cold on his neck. He would spend them at home, with the door locked and time to think.

The others were getting their own screens. He could tell by their faces.

Finn breathed out a short, tired laugh at something only he could see. Cillian’s eyebrows went up. Ronan, flat on his back, read his window in silence and gave one small nod, like the numbers were a fair trade for nearly dying. Even Maeve’s exhaustion broke for a second when whatever she saw came up.

James did not ask what any of them got. They would tell him or they would not.

When the windows cleared, the angel raised one hand.

The dissolving village stopped.

The houses held where they were, half gone, frozen in the act of fading. Behind him, a door opened in the air. It was made of gold light, tall and clean-edged, and through it James could see rows of something that did not belong to a floor.

”The System has given you what the floor owed you,” the angel said. ”Clearing the story is a separate matter. That, I am permitted to reward myself.”

He stepped aside from the door.

”Each of you may enter once. You may take one thing. Choose what answers you.” His eyes moved across them. ”Do not touch what does not.”

Finn got to his feet. ”What happens if we touch what doesn’t?”

”Then it was not yours,” the angel said.

That was the whole answer.

They went one at a time.

James went last, so he watched the others.

Inside, the vault was not a room. It went back further than the door should have allowed, rows of weapons and relics floating in the same gold light, some whole, some broken, some sealed behind seams of metal, and a few too bright to look at straight on. The air was clean in a way the floor had not been. Old. Still.

Ronan came back with a shield.

It was not large. Dark grey, plain, a single line of pale script running the inside of the rim, and when he set it on his arm the dents and cracks of his old one were nowhere on it. He pressed his thumb to the rim and a hairline crack closed itself while James watched.

”It rebuilds,” Ronan said, like that was all he needed from anything ever again. He sat back down. He had earned the right to sit.

Finn chose an axe.

The head was heavier than his old one, the edge darker, and something about the way he gripped it changed how he stood. He swung it once, low, and the weight pulled him forward into the swing rather than away from it.

”It wants me to commit,” he said. He didn’t sound worried about that. ”Doesn’t stop me dying if I commit wrong.”

”Good,” Maeve said. ”Then you’ll think first for once.”

Cillian came out holding what looked like a length of black conductor wrapped around his forearm, fitted over the burn. He ran a thread of lightning along it, and the charge that should have arced loose and bitten his skin stayed in the line instead, tight and controlled.

He pushed it harder. The conductor held it.

”...That would have saved me an arm an hour ago,” he said.

”Most things you needed would have,” Maeve said.

She went in after him and came out with a thin band on her wrist, set with a stone that pulsed the same blue-green as her bracelet but steadier. When she lifted her hand toward the Apostle’s Radiant Circlet, the white stone answered, and her field came up smoother than it had all day, even drained as she was.

She turned the band once on her wrist and said nothing about it. That was how James knew it mattered to her.

Then it was his turn.

He walked past the rows the others had taken from.

Something at the back of the vault was waiting for him, and he knew it the way he knew when a corpse was fresh enough to raise. It pulled at the inside of his chest with a slow, cold weight.

He went to it.

It was a scythe.