Climbing the Tower with Multidimensional Avatars - Chapter 67

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

Chapter 67. The Tower – Orc Warrior (3)

As the Orc Warrior Kagul took his stance, I could find no opening whatsoever.
With one arm holding back his spilling entrails, a hand axe buried deep in his right shoulder, and his right thigh bleeding profusely from a deep gash, he stood like an immovable mountain—overwhelmingly imposing despite his grievous wounds.
Though he was weakened to the brink of death with each passing moment, now that consciousness had returned to him, he was a master of such exalted power that I dared not even look up at him.
Had there been no hint of goodwill toward me in his eyes, I would not have dared raise my blade against him.
“Come!”
At his call, I summoned my courage and stepped within his range, swinging my sword.
My blade, aimed at his right shoulder, was effortlessly intercepted by the greatsword Kagul raised.
When one typically wielded internal energy or mana, it flowed evenly throughout the body, making it impossible to discern how another’s mana moved within them.
But Kagul deliberately laid bare his mana circulation, as if teaching me how to command the body itself and how to reinforce a blade.
With economical movements, Kagul deflected my sword and brought his greatsword to my neck.
Then, smiling, he withdrew his blade and spoke.
“You died once. Again.”
I spared no internal energy, reinforcing my entire body and blade.
This was precious instruction from a great warrior.
I could not afford to waste time.
I resolved to fight with the determination to kill him once more.
Kagul, responding to my resolve, laughed with delight.
“Here I come!”
I stepped within his range again.
Kagul swung his greatsword toward me.
I blocked his greatsword with my blade’s flat, shifted my footwork, and deflected it. Then, quickly pressing deeper, I thrust my sword forward.
Kagul twisted his body using the sword’s weight to evade, then, pivoting from his twisted center, swung his greatsword to strike me with its flat.
“Ugh!”
Despite blocking with all my might, the impact shattered my ribs.
“You died twice. Again.”
I recovered through my regenerative power and resumed my stance.
Then I stepped within his range once more.
Certainly, his sword was neither faster nor slower than when he had lost his reason.
Yet it felt incomparably harder to evade or block.
I was struck by his kick and rolled across the ground.
His kick had aimed for my neck but suddenly changed direction to strike my right arm instead—had it not, my neck would have snapped and I would have died.
“You died three times. You’re improving little by little. Again.”
I drank mana recovery potions like water and continued to press forward.
My left arm was severed by his greatsword and flew away.
I expended internal energy to reattach my left arm.
“You died four times. Use your smaller size to your advantage. Force upon me the same inconvenience you felt when facing Goblins. Again.”
His greatsword pierced delicately past my neck, the blade sliding through with precision.
My skin split slightly against his steel.
“Five deaths. Stop hesitating. Strike forward with greater boldness.”
I succeeded in aiming my blade at his Adam’s apple, but the moment Kagul released his greatsword, his fist caved in my entire chest, sending me flying backward.
“Cough!”
It was a critical wound—surprising that I hadn’t died instantly.
Kagul seized his greatsword from the air as if he’d never released it, then spoke.
“Six deaths. …Not bad. Trust your blade. Your sword is better than you believe it to be.”
At last, I heard something beyond criticism—an actual compliment.
I laughed, coughing blood.
Regenerating my body was agonizing, yet his assessment filled me with greater joy than the pain.
Was I truly losing my mind?
To feel pleased by the evaluation—not even praise—of someone who’d nearly killed me.
As I continued using regeneration, I sensed both the efficiency of my healing and an unsettling truth: I could not regenerate infinitely.
If I kept regenerating without sufficient rest, there would come a point where I could no longer heal.
Well, when that time comes, I could simply create a new clone.
Though of course, that too had a cooldown, so infinite recovery remained impossible.
I crossed blades with Kagul’s tremendous greatsword.
My blade was indeed superior to my own expectations.
Even reinforced with inner energy, it clashed against such a crude weapon without sustaining even a chip.
Mixed with mithril as it was, it exceeded my hopes.
Yet despite the blade’s quality, the overwhelming difference in raw strength between Kagul and me could not be overcome, nor could I overcome the inherent weight disparity of our weapons.
“Seven deaths. Come at me again.”
His criticism vanished. I continued attacking with my blade.
From some point onward, Kagul spoke as if muttering to himself while fighting me.
“Your blade is remarkably delicate and refined. Seeing your swordsmanship, I can roughly discern your master’s skill. Surely they were a warrior of a realm equal to mine, or perhaps even higher.”
Kagul’s blade swung at me with frenzied intensity.
The restraint in his strikes was gradually disappearing.
I could sense that death was rising within him like floodwaters reaching his throat.
He could not stop moving.
Like one who would drown if they ceased thrashing in the water, he would perish if he stopped squeezing out every ounce of life force to continue fighting.
“One strange thing troubles me: your master refined such beautiful swordsmanship yet never refined your body.”
Kagul, unaware of my multidimensional avatars, expressed his confusion.
My master, Siu, naturally refined my body first.
Yet that body belonged to a different clone.
“But this matters little. When you kill me, search my pouch. You will find something useful.”
He was speaking what would be his final words.
“Build tombs for the poor victims I have slain. In exchange for collecting their remains, I permit you to take their belongings as funeral expenses. Take my blade, but I beg you—hang the necklace from my neck upon my gravestone.”
As death approached, his blade grew ever more ferocious.
Yet despite this intensified strength, his strikes began trembling ever so slightly.
That tremor created a small opening.
“Please, end this with your greatest strike.”
At his final request, I steadied my mind and swung my blade with every ounce of strength I could muster.
I poured all my power into the sword, prepared to die at the end of this blow.
A bluish aura shimmered across my blade as it cut through his steel-like body.
“Ah… Father… Great Patriarch, please do not grieve my death. Gula, please… stay healthy. Do not… miss your foolish father too much…”
The final words of that mighty and great warrior were neither praise for the martial arts he had cultivated, nor reflection on his own life, nor resentment toward the enemy who had cursed him.
They were only concern and love for the family he would leave behind.
I soon fell silent before Kagul’s lifeless form and mourned his passing.
Following his dying wish, I unfastened the pouch at his waist and examined its contents.
The pouch was small even for a muscular orc standing three meters tall, but for me it was a reasonably sized bag.
I thought it could work as a crossbody bag and checked the contents, only to find far more items inside than the bag’s apparent capacity should allow.
“Could this be a spatial artifact?”
Hopeful, I purchased an appraisal scroll and evaluated the bag.

[Spatial Expansion Bag (Crossbody): Can hold capacity beyond the bag’s size. Weight of items inside is partially reduced.]

It wasn’t a spatial artifact after all—it was a space-expansion artifact.
Well, spatial artifacts are far too rare to find on floors below the 20th.
The F-grade appraisal scroll didn’t reveal how many times larger the capacity was or how much weight it reduced.
I could always purchase an E-grade or D-grade appraisal scroll later for more detailed information.
I examined the bag’s contents.
Five pills that appeared to be elixirs, and a physical training manual inscribed with the secret techniques of the Orc Tribe.
Jerky made from some unknown meat, along with the great sword techniques of the Orc Tribe and Kagul’s diary.
“Since he said I could take this ridiculously large sword, I’ll bring it along.”
I placed the sword—as large as my own body—into its sheath and slipped it into the crossbody bag, where it fit perfectly.
The blade was so heavy that even inside the bag, it felt quite substantial.
It certainly wouldn’t fit in my inventory.
I placed Kagul’s diary in a plastic bag I had brought through my Reincarnation Clone and created a grave for him.
Finding no suitable stone nearby for a gravestone, I retrieved wooden planks through my Reincarnation Clone and fashioned a wooden marker.
From reading Kagul’s diary, I learned that tribe members periodically came to check on his condition, so I could only hope they would erect a proper gravestone.
I used magic to heat the edge of a hand axe and carved Kagul’s name onto the wooden marker in their language.
Beneath it, I wrote an account of his final moments as I had witnessed them.
After creating Kagul’s grave, I proceeded to create graves for the other corpses scattered about.
I fashioned wooden markers for each of them, but when I couldn’t identify their names, I simply inscribed their presumed species.
Among the roughly thirty bodies, seven appeared to be climbers.
Based on the quality of weapons and magical artifacts they carried, it seemed at least four were from the 40th Floor or higher, and three from the 20th Floor or higher.
As I had suspected, Kagul had endured prolonged suffering, slowly dying over a long period of time.
Creating graves for them was all I could do for them.
Those who die in The Tower have no path home—they are simply buried in another world.
“May you find peace in the afterlife.”
After completing the grave, I hung the necklace on the cenotaph as Kagul had wished, then departed the 19th Floor.

* * *

The great Orc Warrior Kagul had vanished.
Upon hearing this report, Kagul’s Father, the Grand Chieftain of the Orc Tribe, led his aged body toward the Grassland where Kagul had been cursed and secluded.
In the Grassland where Kagul had once waited for death in solitude, some thirty graves now stood.
Cenotaphs were erected before each grave, and before the particularly large mound—as befitted Kagul in life—his name was inscribed in crude lettering.
“I see now. The Tower… The Tower has ended your suffering… It has done what I could not….”
The father, his aged body kneeling before his son’s grave, appeared sorrowful.
Beneath the name Kagul lay inscriptions that could not be read, but the Grand Chieftain used a magical artifact left by some archaeologist to decipher the words.
Had the inscription been an insult to his son, he would have torn the cenotaph from the ground in rage that very moment.

-Father, great Grand Chieftain. I beg you, do not grieve my death. Gula, I pray you remain well. Do not miss your inadequate father too much.

Upon reading his son’s final words, the Grand Chieftain wept silently, his shoulders trembling.
In the Grand Chieftain’s hand lay the necklace, his son’s final keepsake, held precious and close.

(To be continued in the next chapter)

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