Tower of Endless: Death Granted Entry

Slave 135 stood still. He lowered his blade into a typical stance.

Across from him, the goblin glanced at the wolf.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then something strange occurred.

The goblin moved closer to the wolf and grabbed its fur. In one fluid motion, it leapt upward. The wolf did not resist. It allowed the movement as if they had already decided on it beforehand.

The goblin landed on its back.

Now it rode the horned wolf.

The sight made the creature look even more menacing.

Slave 135 narrowed his eyes.

Greater goblins were proud and chaotic. Horned wolves were vicious and dominant. Creatures like these did not cooperate so easily.

Yet here they were, moving together, acting as one.

It almost looked as if they understood something.

As if they knew the battle meant nothing.

As if they knew they would die anyway.

The thought lingered in Slave 135’s mind for only a moment.

But did it even matter?

Whether they were real creatures, replicas, or something else entirely...

This place remained the same.

Only they could die, and they would die.

In a battlefield like this, the difference between real and imitation meant nothing.

Slave 135 tightened his grip on the blade.

Slave 135 waited as the silence stretched between them.

Both sides kept staring for a moment, as if both wanted to end it in a single strike, even if it meant nothing, even if it was only a mechanical reality built within the Trial.

As the silence stretched, a sudden movement of wind broke it.

Both sides moved at the same time.

But Slave 135 was already ready for it. He had played it inside his head countless times. All possible reactions and possibilities. He had seen them all. And for such a small finale, the possibilities were limited.

He watched as the goblin struck.

The wolf moved as well.

Their coordination was impressive even for Slave 135. He watched how the horns were already aimed at where he would evade.

But it did not matter, for Slave 135 already had a different plan in mind.

One that did not follow the standard procedure of things.

Something that was his own.

As they closed the distance, he waited.

For the last moment, before it was just a hair’s breadth from too late to evade.

His feet rooted into the muddy ground, he, with all his strength, jumped, leaping as high as he could.

He was not aiming at the goblin, nor trying to evade.

He aimed for the horns themselves...

The very horns that were meant to block his escape.

His decision was to use them as his temporary foothold.

With a soft ”thud,” he successfully landed.

From there, he drove his blade toward the goblin, who hurriedly tried to block.

Stab.

Only to find the blade sliding wildly downward, stabbing between the wolf’s ribs.

A flash of frustration ignited in the goblin’s eyes, but it was too late.

The wolf couldn’t keep its balance for much longer, and the blade was already sliding against the bones for the next attack.

Slave 135’s left hand made a motion, in sync with the right hand pulling the blade.

The moment the blade came out, the left hand was already blocking the splashing blood, aiming it at the greater goblin’s eyes instead.

Rooted to the wolf, the goblin could do nothing but swing back in a desperate attempt to protect itself or cut Slave 135, but that too...

It was meaningless.

For his target had already abandoned his foothold and jumped off the wolf’s horn, backwards.

In that moment, he had already played it in his head: the obvious response of the goblin, the trajectory of the counter attempt, the timing both weapons would clash, and the weight of the attack he would take.

Slave 135 swung his weapon as he abandoned his foothold.

At the end of the cutting motion, he let go of the blade, allowing it to soar freely mid-jump.

Thus, instead of hacking at the goblin, Slave 135 threw the blade, judging the distance and reach. The goblin’s attempt to defend or block meant nothing.

For when the goblin’s blade swing came to an end,

Stab.

Slave 135’s blade was already piercing its neck.

But as the price of his reckless jump, he took the full blunt crash along with both of the monsters.

Huff...

Huff...

Huff...

For a moment, he didn’t move, allowing his ragged, pent-up breath to finally go loose.

It was finally over... They were all dead at last...

And more importantly, he didn’t lose himself to this place.

Finally, he sprawled on the floor.

Nothing was going to attack him now.

His gaze looked at the gloomy-looking sky of the trial. Only now, for the first time, did he actually take a look... did he have the time to take a look at this ugly, mud-colored flatness.

He averted his gaze to where his last enemy fell, the goblin.

The body was still there. The blade was stuck between its collarbone and neck, and it was hatefully staring at Slave 135.

”It was a bitter fight for you too, I guess...” he spoke softly. ”Finding yourself locked up somewhere you can’t escape, with a monster that cannot be killed...

”I might have felt the same.”

He paused for a moment, thinking of it, imagining the scene and playing it in his head.

”No, I surely would have felt the same, having the advantage of numbers and nowhere to leave...

”In your place, I would have hated me to my dying breath...

”But I also didn’t choose to be here. I couldn’t peacefully die either.”

Shaking his head, ”I might have chosen death over this if I had a choice,” he genuinely added.

The bleeding of the goblin didn’t stop, nor did the burning hatred in its eyes subside.

”But I also want to know.” Slave 135 had a question, one that had tormented him since his first death reversal in this place.

He averted his gaze back to the sky before asking.

”Are you real?

Is this place real?

Why wouldn’t goblins and wolves kill each other in this place?

Is this sky real?”

He looked back at the goblin.

”Am... Am I real?”

His questions were spoken one after another, not fast nor slow... just like how he usually spoke.

But there was no answer.

His voice trailed in the void, alone for a while.

For when he looked at the goblin, its eyes had gone dim and lifeless... but even death didn’t wash away the spiteful look it had. Death couldn’t force it to avert its gaze from Slave 135.

Slave 135 felt conflicted. He closed his eyes for a moment, staying unmoving while he still could.

Though the last exchange between himself and the goblin was a gamble, there was no guarantee it would succeed a second time.

But he did find a little something, the sequence of everything... He could calculate and act before the unfavorable next move occurred.

Though that was only possible after fighting the same type of being countless times.

It was the knowing.