Jackal cleared his throat. “As you can see,” he said, gesturing around at the buildings nearby, “the second floor encourages people to pick a weapon. If the first floor trains one in the art of survival, the second floor trains people in the art of combat.”

Tafel raised an eyebrow as she looked around. “I don’t see any magic weapons like staves or wands.”

“Those are located on the thirtieth floor,” Jackal said. “That wasn’t always the case, but the lords of the tower insisted.” Jackal’s voice lowered to a whisper. “You didn’t hear it from me, but the lords of the tower aren’t all that great; they’re mentally weak, feeble-minded people obsessed with authority. They’re afraid that teaching people magic so early on will allow common people to excel and gain the strength to dethrone them.”

Before anyone could respond, Jackal cleared his throat and spoke in a loud voice, “Most people pick a weapon and stick with it for whatever reason. They’re given a sword when they’re young, so now they use a sword. They pick up a bow to hunt to survive, so now they use a bow. The second floor encourages you to try a wide assortment of weapons to figure out which one suits you the best. Perhaps you’ve used swords all your life, but you actually had a talent when it came to wielding spears; the tower seeks to unearth your full potential.”

“Makes sense,” Tafel said and nodded.

Jackal headed towards a building in the distance. Once he walked past two people wearing blue armor, he exhaled. “You have to watch what you say in the tower,” he whispered. “Especially if you’re critical of the lords. They have eyes and ears everywhere, and any showing of disrespect will get you noticed.”

“It’s that bad, huh?” Tafel asked, furrowing her brow.

“It’s only bad if you aren’t talented,” Jackal said, a bitter smile appearing on his long snout, barely visible underneath his hood. “If you’re skilled, the lords will scout you into their guilds, and the lords’ authority over the common people increases.”

“I’ve heard the lords are fighting things that’re capable of destroying the tower,” Tafel said. “Aren’t they just doing everything they can to become stronger?”

“Baseless rumors,” Jackal said and shook his head. “Of course, they’d portray themselves as heroes of the people. Without them, the tower will fall. Without their assistance, no one would be able to climb to the same heights as them. The reality is anyone who climbs the tower can become as strong as a lord, but they’re restricting us from growing by reducing the difficulties of the exams to prevent us from obtaining the full rewards.”

“Do you have any examples?” Lindyss asked. She stepped on the grassy spider and sat beside Tafel, forcing the demon to scoot over, almost knocking her off. Luckily, Diamant was paying attention and expanded the seat to accommodate the both of them.

“Sure,” Jackal said and nodded. “You must’ve experienced it yourself during the advancement exam to come here. The lords encouraged people to become guides, incentivizing them by subsidizing the innkeepers, who offer discounts and other perks to the guides. In return, the guides help newcomers pass the exam safely. On paper, there’s nothing wrong with this; however, the guides heavily persuade groups of people to avoid taking the trials of the various temples in the exam reason, citing safety reasons.”

“And clearing those trials grants weapons and other bonuses,” Lindyss said.

“Exactly,” Jackal said. “You see it too, don’t you? That one bonus may be the reason why someone fails the next exam. It may be why they fail to secure another bonus that’s absolutely necessary for passing a future exam. The higher up in the tower you go, you’ll see more and more people with nothing but despair in their hearts because they’re trapped, unable to advance further through no fault of their own.”

“Really?” Tafel asked and tilted her head to the side. “We’ve met the Light Lord, and honestly, she doesn’t seem like she’d do something like that.”

Jackal tripped over air. “You’ve met the Light Lord?” he asked, whirling his head to the side to look at Tafel. He cleared his throat and smoothed out his cloak. “Well, as a lord, I’m sure she knows to present her friendliest face to the public. She might seem like a nice person, but you can’t trust her outer appearance.”

“No, that’s not it,” Tafel said and shook her head. “She wasn’t friendly at all.”

Jackal furrowed his brow. “Then what do you mean?”

“I just mean she didn’t seem like the type of person to … use her head?” Tafel said in a questioning manner. “What I mean to say is”—Tafel hummed and stroked her chin—“if Ashley wanted to oppress the people, she’d do it with force, not with a huge, elaborate scheme.”

Jackal fell silent. After a bit of walking, he exhaled. “I don’t claim to know the lords. In fact, I’ve only ever seen one from a distance. However, I can see from the rules and institutions they’ve created all throughout the tower that someone up there doesn’t have the people’s best interests at heart.”

Lindyss shrugged. “Why should they? In the end, they’re just people.”

“Have you ever heard of noblesse oblige?” Jackal asked. “Power and prestige come with responsibilities to those who don’t have either.”

“Nope.” Lindyss shook her head. “Haven’t heard of it.”

“Err….” Jackal furrowed his brow. “Then, uh, now that you know what it is, don’t you think it makes sense?”

“No,” Lindyss said. “What do the powerful get in return? If I’m born next to a river, and you’re born in the desert, am I obligated to give you water for nothing in return just because you don’t have any?” The cursed elf snorted. “If I’m born powerful, and you’re not, I don’t see why I should be obligated to use my power for you just because you’re weak, especially when there are things like dragons out there capable of squishing both of us like we’re insects.”

“But, if you’re a good person….” Jackal’s voice trailed off upon seeing Lindyss’ unamused expression. “N-never mind.”