I Conquered the Tower with the EX-Class Character That I Raised - Chapter 80

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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 80
Crack!
The brilliant golden pillar that had pierced the center of the battlefield slowly faded away.
Thousands of hunters who had defended Hanam Fortress.
And Min Ji-hee, who had rushed out from the command center.
All of them stood in silence, their eyes fixed only on where the light was dissipating.
At last the light subsided, and the silhouette standing within it was revealed.
Han Seol-ah, the Guardian, standing tall with white hair billowing in the wind.
Lee Ah-woon, wreathed in dark energy, with a small Death Knight perched upon his shoulder.
Yereche, the Holy Maiden, dressed in casual clothes and holding a crude stone staff in her hand.
And just Kim Chul-soo.
And then.
“Apostle!”
Min Ji-hee, who had somehow made her way to the center of the battlefield, stumbled forward with a trembling voice.
There stood the Apostle, his black coat billowing around him.
The 94th Floor.
The calamity from which no one had ever emerged alive—the disaster that had imprisoned South Korea in ten years of despair.
The condition of the party members who had broken through it was…
‘Not a single wound…?’
…remarkably unscathed.
It would have been called a miracle if they had returned with even a limb or two severed.
Yet they stood before everyone without so much as a scratch.
The Apostle’s indifferent gaze swept across the crumbled barriers and the blood-soaked hunters.
“I’m not too late, am I?”
His voice was casual, almost dismissive.
In that instant, the eyes of the exhausted hunters suddenly blazed with life.
“No, sir!!!”
“You’ve arrived at the perfect moment!”
“Ahhhhh!!! Apostle!!!”
All at once, a roar erupted from Hanam Fortress as if the entire stronghold would burst apart.
“We survived!! We made it!!”
“Come here! Now we can get married!”
Some cast down their weapons and collapsed to the ground, weeping.
Others embraced their neighbors and kissed them.
Joy and relief—Hanam Fortress was engulfed in a sea of hot tears.
It was a cry of salvation announcing the end of ten years that had felt like an endless nightmare.
Min Ji-hee too could not contain the tears streaming down her cheeks as she began to kneel before the Apostle.
“Apostle, sir. Thank you so much… truly, thank you for your…”
“You all did well enough yourselves.”
Before her knees could even touch the ground, the Apostle gently grasped her shoulders and lifted her back up, stopping her.
“Looking at the state everyone’s in, well…”
The Apostle manipulated the notebook in his hand with casual ease, then flicked his finger.
Snap—!
In that instant.
A blinding, immense, and sacred light erupted from the Apostle’s entire body with such intensity that one’s eyes could not bear to open.
“This is truly an absurd level of holy power…”
It was Yereche, the Holy Maiden, who muttered this while shaking her head in disbelief.
She could perceive most accurately the sheer force of the pure sacred power radiating from the Apostle’s body.
A miracle that even she, called the world’s greatest, could never manifest without sacrificing her own life.
Yereche watched the surreal spectacle unfold, letting out a hollow laugh of utter astonishment.
The light pouring from the Apostle’s body traced the form of a majestic cross as it soared skyward, then transformed into warm sunlight that enveloped the entirety of Hanam Fortress.
“…?!”
“Wh-what…?”
“The blood… the wounds are healing!”
A miracle had occurred.
The broken bones of the Hunters caught in the swarm realigned in real time, torn flesh regenerated, and the mana circuits that had been depleted suddenly surged with vitality once more.
Thousands of Hunters had been completely healed by a single skill.
The Hunters who had been cheering moments before stood with their mouths agape.
A sudden silence descended.
‘…A frost mage surpassing Han Seol-ah. A necromancer commanding Break Bosses. And now… a healer wielding miracles of sacred power…’
Astonishing hardly sufficed as a word.
It was awe-inspiring.
‘Where exactly does the Apostle’s strength end?’
I had believed him to be a perfected powerhouse with nowhere left to grow.
I was mistaken.
Rather, he was a superhuman whose upper limits remained incomprehensible…
The Apostle grinned leisurely toward Min Ji-hee and the Hunters, whose mouths hung open in shock.
“Let’s go back. To our ordinary lives.”
* * *
In one corner of the collapsed ruins of Hanam Fortress.
Kim Min-seok gasped as he witnessed the impossible spectacle the Apostle had wrought.
The moment he saw the back of the Apostle who had performed that miracle, his survival instinct screamed a warning.
‘As expected… that is a monster wearing human skin.’
His entire body was drenched in cold sweat merely from observing from the shadows.
‘I need to escape quickly.’
At that moment, his Hunter Watch vibrated briefly.
[Return.]
It was the Guild Master’s command.
Simultaneously.
[Your Awakened Ability is evolving.]
[Awakened Ability: Survival Instinct (A) → Survival Instinct (S)]
For reasons I couldn’t fathom, my awakened ability had evolved.
My heartbeat stretched into an elongated rhythm, and the dust particles drifting through the air froze like a still frame.
There was no physical change—no surge of strength or amplification of mana.
Only my cognitive processing speed accelerated, becoming razor-sharp and swift.
Within the decelerated time, I felt a chill creeping down my spine as I gathered my thoughts.
‘Something has just triggered a threat to my survival instinct.’
I had witnessed the miracle the Apostle performed with my own eyes.
The Apostle had cleared the 94th Floor and returned.
And the return command had arrived at precisely the right moment.
Which of these two was triggering my survival instinct so severely?
My gaze fixed on the Apostle’s dark silhouette standing in the distance.
A primal terror that made my heart feel as though it would burst from merely looking at him.
‘I want to run.’
The instinctive desire for survival that naturally followed.
The conclusion was unmistakable.
I decided to flee.
From that man.
‘Let’s go back. To Pandemonium.’
Time resumed its normal flow.
‘Phew. So it was that after all.’
I hastily gathered my belongings and abandoned my hideout.
And shortly after.
Standing before the Master to deliver my report upon my return.
“After much deliberation, I’ve decided to kill you.”
‘…!’
I regretted it too late.
* * *
Pandemonium.
…How tedious it has become.
Guild Master Iransu muttered softly before ending the call.
“What makes it so tedious, sir?”
“First has cleared the 94th Floor, apparently.”
“…Truly impressive.”
Tsk.
Iransu clicked his tongue with irritation.
First was a ‘Suspended One’—someone who had escaped the Tower.
I wondered how much could truly change by re-entering…
‘I would have preferred if he had failed.’
Defying Iransu’s expectations, First had cleared the 94th Floor without incident and emerged victorious.
Moreover, he returned without a single wound and performed the miracle of healing all the tattered Hunters—or so they said.
‘…Yes. If anything, that’s more like you.’
Iransu felt his heart racing.
First.
That was the kind of master Iransu had.
A cold-blooded man who had never revealed even a fragment of his name from the moment he took him as a disciple until they parted ways in the waiting room of the 73rd Floor.
A sociopath who had taught him to discard human sentiment at any moment for the sake of clearing Hidden Quests alone.
The ideal he had always yearned to reach…!
“Master. The shadow is….”
The Observer retreated with a pallid, sickly expression.
Thick, cold sweat trickled down the forehead of the man who always observed with such composure.
Iransu glanced down at his feet.
His shadow was swelling like a living, breathing predator, rippling as it aimed for the Observer’s throat.
“Ah, sorry. Got a bit excited there.”
Immediately after, Iransu’s expression froze into cold, emotionless numbness—as if a switch had been flipped.
The moment he forcibly severed his emotions, the shadow that had been rippling as if to devour the Observer grew docile.
Emotions he would normally control perfectly were fluctuating wildly—only when it came to matters involving First.
Was it the backlash of emotional suppression?
Iransu surrendered himself entirely to the wave of exhaustion that crashed over him, sinking deep into the pitch-black chair.
* * *
Not long after, Kim Min-seok returned.
Iransu swept his gaze over Kim Min-seok with drowsy eyes and spoke as if tossing something aside.
“After much deliberation, I’ve decided to kill you.”
“…What? W-what on earth…”
Iransu explained with an ominous smile.
“Ah. This makes three. Come on, remember? I told you not to stammer or limp, right? You were already in violation twice, and now that makes three.”
“….”
Kim Min-seok clamped his mouth shut.
No matter what he did, he would be forgiven up to twice.
The moment he repeated a third transgression, he would be killed without exception—
The Guild Master’s murderous habit.
‘I… I’m really the “third” now?’
“Answer me. You’ve violated it three times. Isn’t that right?”
“…Y-yes. Please spare me…!”
Whoosh!
A pitch-black shadow surged forth from beneath Iransu’s feet like a tidal wave.
That sinister darkness instantly engulfed the ground beneath Kim Min-seok, then split into dozens, hundreds of skeletal hand shapes and began to devour his shadow alive.
“Kyaaah…!”
The shadow hands with protruding bone joints greedily crawled up from Kim Min-seok’s ankles to his calves.
Soon his lower body, knees buckling under that terrible grip, began to sink into the pitch-black shadow as if being pulled into a swamp.
“Hieek! Gwaaaaah!”
“Calm yourself. You are not dying.”
“What? What?”
Iransu spoke with gentle kindness.
“You are becoming a superior existence.”
“What in the world does that even—Uuuaaagh!!!”
Then, from within the shadows, an enormous hand shot forth and seized Kim Min-seok.
And as if mocking his futile thrashing, it yanked him deeper into the darkness.
“Help meeeee—”
Kim Min-seok’s survival instinct had already surrendered.
As though the moment he chose this path, he realized there was no escape, and simply gave up.
That realization drove him to madness.
Before he could even finish his scream, Kim Min-seok vanished into the shadowy abyss.
* * *
“…Still, not a pleasant sight to witness.”
“That’s why I told you to stay out.”
Thunk. Plink. Thunk.
Objects tumbled from the shadows as if someone were tossing them out.
They were the artifacts Kim Min-seok had been wearing.
His mobile phone and Hunter Watch spilled out alongside them.
And finally…
A large mana stone rolled forth.
Something within the shadows had rolled it out carefully, as if it must not be allowed to shatter.
Iransu picked up the mana stone and examined it closely.
“Hmm. Grade A, perhaps. Not bad.”
Pandemonium’s endless wealth flowed from the sale of mana stones.
Since the dawn of the Hunter era, mana stones had become the most precious raw material.
Pandemonium was the only place where one could purchase them in unlimited quantities.
This was precisely why Pandemonium, a transnational criminal organization, had managed to persist without significant suppression.
A necessary evil that supplied mana stones…!
Yet how Pandemonium procured such vast quantities of mana stones remained a mystery.
That truth lay shrouded beneath an impenetrable veil.
The Observer, however, saw it clearly with his own eyes.
‘…An ability to create mana stones, you say.’
The Observer’s keen gaze scrutinized the mana stone.
‘…Hm?’
Through his vision-enhancement artifact, something peculiar caught his attention.
Within the mana stone that had once been ‘Kim Min-seok’…
Something ominous seemed to writhe.
‘Did I misperceive?’
That can’t be right!
‘That’s no ordinary magic stone…!’
—Then all the magic stones we’ve dug up so far…?
The Observer gasped, drawing in a sharp breath at the revelation.
Iransu turned around.
With an ominous smile, Iransu raised a single index finger to his lips and spoke softly.
“Shh.”
* * *
“Kim Min-seok’s status report has gone dark.”
“…Is he hiding somewhere again?”
“Location tracking is also offline.”
“He was supposed to be in an underground bunker…”
“Biometric signals are down too.”
“…Just how many trackers did you attach to him?”
“Everything that could be attached.”
Min Ji-hee, reviewing documents, glanced down at the phone screen with its severed connection and spoke with finality.
“He’s dead, then.”
“…No great loss.”
“Indeed. The moment he betrayed us, he chose a different path from ours.”
It was self-evident that showing mercy to a traitor would cause internal cohesion to crumble beyond recovery.
Her words carried no regret.
“Still, his death served a purpose.”
“Oh?”
“After Kim Min-seok’s betrayal, he joined Pandemonium. Now we know where those rats are hiding.”
Min Ji-hee’s gaze turned toward the national map covering one entire wall of her office.
Her eyes gleamed sharply as she was about to pinpoint a coordinate.
Beep—!
A loud incoming call tone pierced the silence.
Min Ji-hee withdrew her sharp gaze from the map and, as if nothing had happened, picked up the receiver with a composed expression.
[Commander Min Ji-hee, it’s been a while.]
The caller displayed on the monitor was the American Hunter Association Chairman.
“We’re not close enough to exchange pleasantries. State your business briefly.”
[First, allow me to sincerely congratulate you on clearing the 94th Floor. Now South Korea can officially begin Tower farming, yes?]
“If you’re just going to repeat what everyone already knows, I’m hanging up. I have other calls to make.”
[I’d like to dispatch my personal farming team to assist you.]
“Bite your tongue and kill yourself.”
Click.
Min Ji-hee mercilessly ended the American Hunter Association Chairman’s call.
‘He sure loves to drone on about wanting to take the first bite.’
“Hmm. News travels fast, doesn’t it.”
“Well, they’re the type who’d bet on whether we go under or not.”
This was already the sixth call.
China had reached out first, followed by Japan, then Russia.
The nations closest to us, more invested in South Korea’s fate than anywhere else.
After them came calls from greedy Britain and, surprisingly, India’s remnant team.
The sixth was just now—the American Hunter Association.
Of course, none of their proposals appealed to Min Ji-hee.
As always, there were only packs of jackals with greed blazing in their eyes, scheming how to tear us apart.
“However, we do need to borrow the hands of other nations.”
“…That’s true.”
The 94th Floor had been cleared.
For the next month, free access from the 1st to 94th Floor would be possible, enabling ‘farming’—harvesting The Tower’s resources.
Considering that Earth’s highest farmable floor was America’s 70th Floor…
Floors 71 through 94 were uncharted territory humanity had never farmed before.
In other words.
A goldmine.
“How should we break through…?”
The problem was the complete absence of conquest data for floors 71 and above.
Tower farming wasn’t about defeating bosses and clearing floors.
The essence was to navigate around lethal monsters and various mechanisms on that floor, extract only minerals or rare artifacts, and safely ‘survive’ to return.
Ultimately, farming in uncharted territory where you didn’t know what monsters would emerge or what traps lurked was suicide.
‘If only we could push through like lower-floor farming, annihilating everything in our path…’
There was no way we could defeat 70th-Floor monsters as easily as lower-floor creatures.
If anything, the odds of being killed were far higher.
“If our farming stalls like this, those jackals will use ‘safe resource extraction’ as justification to seriously start taking their cut.”
“The pretext sounds reasonable, but they’re really just planning to devour all the best resources themselves.”
A frustrating silence descended.
To counter foreign interference, South Korea had to secure perfect farming routes and conquest data as soon as possible.
It was also why Min Ji-hee hadn’t rested, remaining confined to her office.
But where on earth could they find it?
“There is a way, isn’t there?”
Jin Cheon-jin spoke casually, as if wondering what Min Ji-hee was even troubled about.
“….”
When Min Ji-hee looked up with irritation at what he meant, Jin Cheon-jin answered cheerfully.
“Let’s just ask the Apostle!”
“….”
Min Ji-hee sighed.
“Floors 71 through 93 are unexplored territory no one’s ever entered. There’s no way he’d know that.”
“Why would you think he couldn’t possibly know?”
Jin Cheon-jin was sincere.
“Let’s ask anyway! What’s the worst that could happen?”
“No, but how would you possibly know that? …Wait.”
Min Ji-hee stopped mid-sentence.
Common sense…?
Had common sense ever applied to that man?
From the Break all the way through the 94th Floor conquest, the Apostle had dismantled every mechanism flawlessly, as if he possessed the answer key to everything.
‘…Could it be? He might actually know.’
Grasping at straws, Min Ji-hee hurriedly composed a text message on her Hunter Watch.
[Apostle, do you happen to know the strategy for the 71st Floor?]
The reply came instantly.
[Yes]

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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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