Climbing the Tower with Multidimensional Avatars - Chapter 173

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 173. The Tower – Affixing the Seal (1)

The journey had gone smoothly ever since we removed the Location Tracker.
We took a carriage to the neighboring City, got a refund for the train ticket, used that money to buy a new one, made a single transfer, and reached near our destination.
Then we traveled by carriage through what had recently been a combat zone, and managed to arrive safely near our destination.
“Once we deliver Elliott to the Treaty Location like this, is the twenty-sixth floor finished?”
Everyone nodded at Park Jeon-bin’s words.
“Wouldn’t it be?”
“Now that it’s all over, I can say it wasn’t a bad experience—quite different from what we’re used to.”
“Even though it’s a different country, it felt like we’d traveled through time.”
Since the Quest had effectively ended, everyone was sharing their impressions, when Bogard spoke up.
“Personally, I’d like to see the actual sealing ceremony through to the end.”
I detected worry in his voice.
“There’s going to be an act of terrorism at the Treaty Location, isn’t there?”
At my words, everyone turned to look at me, and Bogard nodded.
Kong McGree, a former fighter better known by his nickname King Kong, narrowed his brow as he studied me.
“Terrorism? What are you talking about?”
From the days I’d spent observing him, it seemed Kong McGree’s habit was to furrow his brow or scowl when things turned serious.
“It’s nothing special. If you think back over our journey so far, you can guess it easily.”
Kong McGree stared at me, as though demanding a fuller explanation.
I had no choice but to speak.
“To explain the evidence that tells us an act of terrorism is coming, we first need to understand why Elliott had to bring the President’s Seal to the Treaty Location.”
Lee Su-young asked at my words.
“Isn’t a seal normally needed for treaties anyway?”
I nodded as I replied.
“A seal or signature is certainly needed. But it doesn’t have to be the President’s specifically. During wartime, the Supreme Commander would have authority equivalent to the President’s, and would be much closer to the location, so having the Supreme Commander—or a staff officer of equivalent rank—sign in their stead would be sufficient. So there’s only one possibility: the enemy Supreme Commander insisted that the President’s signature be included before he’d willingly sign the Surrender Document.”
Of course, once captured, surrender was the only option, but they could drag things out messily for over a month if they chose.
If the war lasted that long, casualties would mount among both military and civilians alike, so from the Northern Military’s perspective, it was better to grant this relatively simple request and get the enemy to sign the Surrender Document quickly.
The Surrender Document would serve as justification for dissolving the Southern Military, and the remaining Southern resistance would weaken, so it was crucial.
At my words, Elliott stared at me in surprise.
“Y-yes, exactly. That’s why I’m carrying the Seal as the President’s representative.”
A signature from someone else would be forgery, but a seal with a Power of Attorney attached could be used by anyone without issue.
In response to Elliott’s confirmation, I posed another question.
“Then why would the enemy Supreme Commander make such a demand? To lure the President out of the White House and assassinate him? The Southern Military has already lost, so why bother? The President would never come directly to such a dangerous battlefield anyway?”
Bogard answered my question.
“Simply to buy time, I’d think.”
“Right. So then—why would they want to buy time?”
Bogard answered my follow-up.
“Someone must have approached the Southern Supreme Commander. They told him that if he just dragged things out, if he prolonged the state of war just a bit longer, the Southern Military would have a way to turn things around.”
“And who was this someone?”
“The racist bastards of this world—whoever happened to obtain that Future Weapons Armory that fell into this world by accident.”
Everyone’s expression hardened at Bogard’s answer.
They seemed to grasp the meaning of what Bogard and I had been saying.
“They were trying to research and copy the weapons? Because with Future Weapons in hand, they could never lose to primitive arms?”
At Park Jeon-bin’s conjecture, Bogard and I both nodded simultaneously.
Even if they obtained the Weapon Armory, unless it kept producing Future Weapons continuously, there wouldn’t be nearly enough to arm the Southern Military.
“But is that even possible with weapons alone? Even with the answer key, if you don’t know the steps in between, isn’t it just as hopeless?”
Bogard answered Park Jeon-bin’s question.
“They’d challenge it precisely because they don’t know.”
I added to Bogard’s point.
“People generally believe they can accomplish anything if the goal is clear enough. That’s why scientists and engineers are always begging for more budget and time when tackling new challenges.”
Of course, the passion and effort of scientists and engineers in that case is different from what’s happening here.
But that’s how technology works fundamentally.
You might think that if the finished product is right in front of you, you can just copy it—but you only truly understand that copying isn’t so simple once you’ve experienced it firsthand.
Lee Su-young asked at my words.
“So the enemy Supreme Commander fell for the racist bastards’ honeyed words?”
“A man who climbed that high wouldn’t fall for mere flattery. That’s why he demanded the President’s Seal on the Surrender Document. He figured that if such a powerful weapon truly existed, preventing the Seal from being brought would be easy, and if it couldn’t be prevented, then the weapons weren’t worth anything anyway.”
The Southern Military was already in a state that was no different from defeat at the hands of the Northern Military.
It was a situation already beyond reversing—trusting in weapons whose supply date remained uncertain was futile.
The commander-in-chief thought bleakly about it, but still harbored a faint hope.
That’s why he had come this far, to affix his seal to the Surrender Document.
“The racists who obtained the Weapon Armory failed to capture Elliott, so what remains is their attempt to block the Southern defeat from being finalized by any means—getting a signature on the Surrender Document. Those delusional patients believe they can somehow duplicate the weapons within a short time.”
“Then, isn’t that a grave crisis?!”
“It is grave.”
Bogard sighed softly and continued.
“But even if terrorism occurs and people die, the Historical Timeline will remain unchanged. In the history books, it will merely be recorded as the final throes of racism.”
With Elliott’s arrival, no amount of terrorism could prevent the affixing of seals to the Surrender Document.
To prevent it, they would need to duplicate the weapons, mass-produce them, and distribute them to the South within days—but that was practically impossible.
“That’s why The Tower didn’t tell us to guard until the treaty was finalized. They told us to deliver the seal. Since you’ve arrived, there’s no way that Weapon Armory could ever bend the great course of history.”
Bogard seemed to believe that The Tower had sent us here to prevent the Historical Timeline from being altered.
Well, my thoughts weren’t so different.
But I didn’t think our role was like those Time Keeper characters that appear so often in sci-fi movies, novels, and comics.
If that were the case, we would have been ordered to raid the Weapon Armory and recover or destroy the weapons—not escort Elliott.
My assessment was that The Tower’s objective was to prevent social instability caused by a clear Anomalous Incident.
Of course, Climbers had been dispatched earlier, and whether they had been annihilated attacking the Weapon Armory or abandoned their Quest and fled was unknown.
Elliott made a serious request in response to my and Bogard’s explanation.
“Indeed, since ancient times those who practice the mystic arts have been called the wise. I know your arts are extraordinary. I also understand that your insight runs even deeper. Please, I beg you to help. If terrorism occurs, many people will die.”
Even with Elliott’s plea, the atmosphere remained far from optimistic.
Diana seemed to believe that preventing harm was the right thing to do and wanted to help, but she couldn’t speak carelessly.
Doing what was right, stepping into mortal danger—no one could do it easily, and no one could demand it.
The battle we had fought on the train was exhausting enough; we couldn’t be asked to enter combat where even more devastating weapons might be used.
This was not our homeland, and they were not our family, nor our friends, nor anything to us.
I spoke to Elliott.
“Elliott. Taking on such a task is dangerous—your life would be at risk. If you simply convey to the military leadership the information that terrorism is likely, you could prevent considerable casualties.”
“The leadership doesn’t know of these extraordinary and peculiar weapons. I found your hypothesis persuasive because I experienced those weapons directly. Had I not, I might have dismissed it as absurd.”
“That’s probably true. But if so, that too is fate.”
At my words, Elliott bit his lip.
“How might I convince you to help? Please, grant me your wisdom.”
Elliott looked at Bogard and me as he pleaded.
I answered him directly.
“Soldiers stake their lives on patriotism. But this isn’t our homeland, so we can’t be asked for patriotism. Then what can we stake our lives on? Profit—bluntly, money. In truth, we are little different from mercenaries hired by The Tower.”
The Tower offers blessing and opportunity to grow stronger instead of money.
At this pragmatic statement, Elliott blinked, momentarily at a loss.
“Don’t harbor fantasies about mystics and Climbers. We’re not fairy-tale sprites—we eat, sleep, and defecate like everyone else.”
Elliott’s eyes rolled at my words, then he spoke.
“Ah, a thousand dollars each! I’ll give you a thousand dollars! I’m, so to speak, a high-ranking bureaucrat. I’m even entrusted as the President’s representative!”
“I told you we don’t need dollars.”
“Then I’ll give you Credit! A thousand dollars is… thirty-three million Credit at current exchange rates!”
At those words, everyone seemed tempted, just slightly.
Then Park Jeon-bin asked.
“But how long would it take to receive the money? If it takes too long, that’s a problem.”
That question brought to mind the American administrative system.
Even modern America requires candlelight living for a month when a single utility pole falls and causes a blackout. How long would the administrative process take in an America where even basic electricity wasn’t reliably supplied, much less the internet?
Wait months in an era with no modern conveniences just to receive some money?
Even Diana shook her head firmly.
As we all turned away, Elliott broke into a cold sweat, considering.
Then, having apparently decided something, he spoke.
“Do you happen to accept gold?”
At the word gold, we looked at each other.
Not long after that question, we all resolved to eliminate the terrorists together.
“From this moment forward, I dedicate myself to punishing these racists!”
“There’s no way I’m passing up the chance to pummel those damned racist bastards!”
Though our true motives were transparent, everyone’s resolve burned bright.
Money really is good.
And so we boarded a carriage and entered the city where the Northern Army Temporary Headquarters had been established.
Elliott held the seal to stamp on the documents in his breast pocket with utmost care.
The long-awaited end of the civil war had drawn within arm’s reach, piercing through the acrid smoke of gunfire.

(To be continued in the next part)

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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