Chapter Ten

He stood in a simple stone hall, with the Administrator a few paces away. Knelt at the feet of the Administrator were three hooded figures in shackles.

Immediately, Will recognised the situation and suppressed the urge to make a noise of recognition, diverting his monologue to be internal this time.

“The condemned prisoners. FCA strat was to kill all 3 and make a grandiose statement about shackles being the mark of the guilty and not believing that an innocent would have ended up before your blade.”

As the administrator removed the hoods and the prisoners turned their faces towards Will, he started trying to figure out the proper solution. From what he remembered, it was less about which you picked and more about how effective your justification was. The FCA had focused more on having a minimum passing strategy for all 100+ of the possible scenarios than figuring out the best path to maximising points, though. For most, it boiled down to playing whatever game the Tower offered, and hoping to scrape enough points that your first two Trials would make up the difference and earn you a reward.

“One of these three is guilty of the crimes that I will accuse them of. The other two are innocents. You may only ask them each a single question, and then you must execute one. Draw upon your Third Eye to divine the truth from the lies, challenger.”

“First, a man who sold his daughter to slavers when his harvest was lean.”

The Administrator swept a hand towards the first man, who had a craggy and lined face which held an expression of resigned glumness.

“Second, a woman who seduced and slew an elderly noble for his fortune.”

The woman in question immediately began to protest innocence before being silenced with a harsh slap to the back of the head. Will’s hackles rose slightly at the sight, but he refocused.

“And finally, a thief whose light fingers took freshly paid workmen and turned them to paupers.”

The final prisoner was the youngest by far, no more than 15 or 16 years old, with a defiant expression that belied a harsh upbringing.

Will nodded to signal that he understood, and took a few paces around the prisoners to inspect their forms. An idea came to mind quickly, and he decided to work with it. As long as he pulled off a plausible justification for whatever he did, he’d pass the Trial and at least be able to get Alacrity, so it was worth taking the risk by ignoring the FCA strategy.

“Number Two, this man that you are accused of slaying. How is it that he was killed?”

The woman went to speak but then paused, before gathering herself and replying.

“Poison, sir. He had been found in his bed passed away from the influence of the Florin Vein Hardening Poison. I had been the one to go to bed with him that night, though he had been well in the morning before I left.”

She went to continue, but the Administrator’s hand rose and she flinched into silence. Will looked up at the man in annoyance, but he did not react.

“You didn’t say there was a limit on their answers.”

The Administrator didn’t react. Will had known he wouldn’t, since the energy of the Trial was taken up forming the constructs to play the prisoners. It was all controlled by the Tower, and even the pretension that she wanted to say more but was stopped by the bearded man was a pretence. The Tower had decided that he’d received his answer, and it didn’t listen to complaints.

The question was largely theatre, anyway, but he still felt irritated at the unfair rule change in the middle of the task. It wasn’t unusual for the Tower, but it always rankled.

“Number Three. What does your father do for work?”

The boy didn’t hesitate before he answered, in a bold voice.

“Best tanner in the village, my father is. Cowhides primarily, but if it’s got skin he can make it into leather. Once turned a Bestial Wolf Pelt into a fine blanket, decorates my bed.”

Will nodded as if the answer had confirmed some deep suspicion, and then drew his sword and stabbed the older man through the heart. He slumped over, as the other two prisoners gave gasps of surprise.

“You did not ask a question of the man you chose. Why?”

This was where Will was going out on a limb. He needed to sound convincing, even if his rationale was all ad-hoc.

“I had all the information that I required. Even if I chose incorrectly, I believe my choice was the most just.”

The Administrator waved a hand and all three prisoners turned to smoke and vanished, dismantling even the flimsy pretence of reality that had been maintained until now.

“Please explain your reasoning, challenger. This will determine your final score, and what – if any – rewards you may receive.”

Will did his best to put on a Sherlock Holmes impression, and launched into a speech most comprised of nonsense.

“I initially made note of the fact that despite your statement that the first man was a farmer, he had no dirt on his hands or under his nails. That, coupled with the slightly finer cut of his shirt, told me that if he was a farmer he was not one who had worked the fields in some time. This fit with someone who had sold a young girl to slavers, as well as to one whose fields were barren with no work to be done. The woman named a poison I have some familiarity with, in addition, which helped add to my theory. Florin Vein Hardening Poison can only be administered by a specific method, through the inhalation of a certain pollen which leaves a distinctive mark on those who are exposed to it. Yellow spots, tiny and barely visible, around the eyes and throat. Even if you wear a mask and do not inhale, there is always a sign. I saw no spots on the woman, and the certainty with which she named quite a rare concoction that few would know made it a certainty. The last was the boy, and his answer disqualified him on the spot. His expression and his figure told me that he had a harsh life, one beset by struggle and starvation. The perfect background for a thief, perhaps, but that was simply misdirection. Poverty strikes even the talented and the hard-working, in lean times, and no child who had turned to such substantial thievery as you named would have avoided a moment of surprise at being asked about their father. A father whose teen son must impoverish workmen, and who can do so well enough to come before my blade in a challenge such as this, would either be a monster of a man or simply absent. All this may be false, however, and yet I still maintain that I was just in my decision.”

The Administrator had a confused expression, and motioned for Will to go on. So far, his bullshit seemed to be working. The poison thing was half true, to be fair – Florin Vein Hardening Poison was employed by one of the Roaming Bosses on Floor 12, and it really did leave those marks, but they faded too quickly to have actually helped him make the call here. He was banking on the second part of his argument, coupled with the Trial’s focus on providing a convincing justification over getting the right answer.

“The man’s crime was truly unforgivable, worthy of execution no doubt. He was the oldest, and looked to be the best fed and kept. The woman’s crime was dire, but her target was stated to be an elderly nobleman and she unashamedly admitted to having gone to the man’s bed. The age disparity there, and the suggestion that she was poor enough to try murder to raise her fortunes, tells a dark picture of a relationship better ended by any means. She would not likely kill again, and I struggle to believe that the man who died had no other enemies or sins that he was repaying. The boy had stolen, a crime not worthy of death in my mind, and given his youth had more than adequate time to grow and redeem himself. I decided that, given all of the factors, if the guilty party did escape my blade then the harm done would be far less than if I made another choice. This is justice. It is an imperfect balancing act.”

The Administrator nodded slightly, waiting a moment before replying.

“That is an adequate response. You receive a passing grade in the Trial of the Inner Eye. You may select one reward of the 1st Tier and one reward of the 2nd Tier from the Prize Vault.”

Damn, only adequate? Still, it had bumped him up slightly and given him some extra room to play with. Better than the FCA route, even if it was riskier. The most annoying part was that the Trial wouldn’t reveal the “right” answer, so he didn’t know if he’d lost the perfect score because of his chosen target or the weakness of his post-hoc justification for it.

“I would like to exchange my 2nd Tier reward for two rewards of the 3rd Tier.”

These words were spoken to thin air, as the Administrator had disappeared and the white void returned, but he felt a tug of acceptance in response. Idly, he wondered who exactly had first realised you could do that, back in the initial timeline. It wasn’t like it would have taken a genius to figure out, and surely people just tried their luck every now and again. Still, he’d had to be told about the idea when he entered the Tower, so clearly it wasn’t that obvious.

The room shifted into its’ final form. The vault was not particularly wide or tall, though it extended quite far forwards. Three distinct levels, each separated by a step and a shimmering magical bubble, each containing several pedestals with objects atop them and locked cases. Small steel plates inscribed with the name and detail of the reward sit underneath, and a sense of power emanated from the room itself from the combined weight of so many items. There were already several missing from the lowest tier, though he knew that many in this tier would respawn after a sufficient time had passed. Only a small number of pedestals in the second tier were empty, and he could see only one missing item at the far end of the room. Smiling, he strode forwards towards his first two items, ignoring all the others.

Alacrity [C], was a useful and decently high grade buffing Spell that was quite popular in the first timeline once people started to get their hands on it. It would increase his speed and dexterity substantially, and once he had the Enhancer Subclass it would have its effect further boosted. There were two copies of the book in the 3rd Tier, probably the best items in the whole section given the rank of the Spell. Some of the other things might have been more valuable to someone who planned to ignore magic entirely, or who didn’t already have a plan for a Bloodline and Elite Class, but to him the opportunity to satisfy the requirement for his planned Subclass and also gain a useful way to enhance his combat capabilities despite his Stats was worth its’ weight in those minor treasures.

Next was an item he hadn’t actually planned to acquire. He considered just taking the second copy of Alacrity to sell on later, but decided to take a closer look at the available prizes before jumping to that selection. First time round he’d taken a vial of Duskfed Wolfman Bloodline Elixir, simply because from the name it had sounded fairly valuable. Turned out, not worth that much given that it was a fairly common Bloodline with some significant mutations built in. It was the one time he was glad to have already filled that slot with Enhanced Humanity, since he wasn’t able to be tempted.

There were some decent weapons, though nothing that would stick with him for more than a Floor or two. Armour-wise, it was very thin on the ground unless he fancied getting rid of the far superior Dryad helmet for one that let him project his voice or a hat that would change his hair colour at will. Those sorts of Items were the ones that the FCA had actually wanted him and the others to farm from this Event, actually, since they were worth a lot of money outside of the Tower to collectors and hobbyists without being too dangerous to sell legally. While that might be worth considering once he started getting a Clan formed and trying to recruit, for now it was a waste of a chance.

There were a couple of useful utility items like infinite waterskins, and that gave him an idea. He started to look through the plinths with intent, hoping to spot an Item he’d previously been expecting not to have a chance to acquire till at least Floor 5. After a minute or so, he grinned and gave a little fist pump. There, tucked away in the back, a D Grade Spatial Storage Ring. Worth its’ weight in gold, even if he’d be upgrading it eventually. It would hold everything in his gear pack, and several times more. He could even stash a few of those Big Goblin Swords in there if he came across them again and felt like it. Plus, given that few to no other Climbers would have one, the advantage it could give him was significant. By the end, these Items were common, being crafted en masse by people who couldn’t or wouldn’t Climb, and he was pleased to have acquired one in this timeline so early on. Well worth taking the risk on the Third Trial. No making do with the far inferior Spatial Pouches and Bags for him.

Finally, he stopped teasing himself and headed to the first tier prize area. Though his gaze was torn to the Thunderwolves’ Gauntlet [C] and a few other flashy items he remembered seeing others using in the first timeline, he knew what was the best choice for his plans. The Soul Anchor [D]. Despite the lower grade of the item compared to the others in this section, it was the only one of the rewards from this Trial that had the words “growth item” in its’ description. Growth items were the gold standard among Climbers as soon as they were discovered, as they were items that you wouldn’t outgrow and need to replace. They could grow with you, provided you met their conditions, and stay relevant all the way to the end.

All 5 of the S Rankers Will remembered from the Final Assault had at least one A or S Ranked growth item that formed part of their power. For now though, this early on, people would be discarding or selling items of this kind without realising the potential that they were wasting. Hell, someone had apparently reached a Tier 1 reward before Will had and yet he’d wasted his effort taking a set of Mirrorshine Throwing Knives [D] which would be redundant past the 7th Floor when better ammunition was affordable in the Store to anyone with a bit of competency in grinding. If the person who’d taken those didn’t die before he got there, he’d be selling those knives to a rookie for cheap, or a specialist with particular requirements for slightly less cheap if he was lucky, before he hit Floor 10. These thoughts did cause a slight twinge of guilt, as Will wondered if he should have shared some information before entering the Tower, but he shook the thought off. More pressing to get his reputation started in-Tower and to develop the basic level of strength necessary to escape or survive if he triggered the wrong people’s interest. The few days extra before he started sharing his knowledge wouldn’t make a difference in the grand scheme of things.

“Not looking forward to training with you and the Skill, but it’s necessary if I want to be an S Ranker.”

Will’s words were directed to the Soul Anchor, resting atop its’ pedestal on a soft velvet cushion. It was a tiny thing, the size of his palm, a miniature anchor formed of gold and streaked with onyx waves. A delicate chain ran from the ring at its’ peak and spooled around on the pillow, long enough to be draped over the head with no need for a fastening. He placed his hand on the lock of the case and it melted away to nothing, letting him pick up the Anchor from its’ place. A drop of blood, and it was his.

A growth item Soul Anchor wasn’t unique, and regular variants that needed to be upgraded periodically were somewhat cheap in the endgame of the first timeline. By the time he was pushing Humanity towards the 51st Floor acquiring one would likely be trivial if he reached the status he was aiming for, but acquiring it this early on and with full knowledge on its’ use would make all of the difference. The Soul Anchor itself was hugely useful for Will’s planned build – it acted like a magical variant of his Conditioning Skill, enhancing the difficulty of mana control and usage in order to speed up Stat growth and development. Horrible feeling to use, according to the people Will knew who relied on them, but necessary.

He placed the chain around his neck and let the surprisingly heavy anchor come to rest on his chest. After a moment, he felt a surge of heat from the spot where it touched him, and the anchor and chain both shimmered into invisibility. The heat receded, replaced by a sense of weight in his heart and the base of his skull that seemed to drag him down despite him standing physically unburdened.

This stage of the plan had worked near flawlessly. Though he had to cast a longing glance at the rest of the items he was leaving behind, people would probably already be realising that the Tower didn’t take kindly to those who ignored its’ instructions. Trying to take more would be unwise. He gave a small cough and spoke to the air in the room.

“My selections are made.”

Another blinding flash that he squeezed his eyes shut to avoid, and he was back in empty village, wind whistling through the darkening wasteland his only accompaniment.