I Conquered the Tower with the EX-Class Character That I Raised - Chapter 94

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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 94
Iransu opened his eyes.
Splash.
In rhythm with his shallow breathing, the viscous crimson liquid filling the bathtub undulated with languid grace.
“How was it, my lord?”
The Observer, who had been waiting in the darkness, asked while holding his breath.
“Give me a moment.”
Iransu answered in a drowsy voice, closing his eyes once more.
Overwhelming violence. An arrogant azure flash.
And…
The Master’s hand, ruthlessly splitting open the shell’s belly and plundering its core without mercy.
When Iransu finished savoring the memory, his crimson lips curved into a slow smile.
“The core was never recovered after all.”
“The core…? I shall immediately backtrack the coordinates to confirm….”
“No. Leave it be.”
Iransu laughed.
“Since it is a spoil of war claimed by the Master himself… if it has fallen into his hands, then nothing has been lost.”
Iransu waved his hand lightly and slowly rose to his feet.
Creak… crack.
The deep crimson liquid clung wetly to his sculpted naked form like fragments of carved stone, then stretched into long threads of blood-red silk before dripping away.
“Exhale.”
Iransu stood upright.
A tall, striking frame—well over six feet.
Black hair flowing softly down to his waist.
From his broad shoulders, elegant lean muscles traced along the line of his spine.
Like a meticulously carved sculpture, his naked form was flawlessly smooth and refined.
The frailty of the fifteen-year-old Iransu who had once greeted the Master at the Fortress no longer existed.
Only the complete body of a mature adult remained—one that radiated such overwhelming presence and gravitas that merely standing still seemed to compress the surrounding air.
Whoosh!
As Iransu lazily extended his palm, a stream of the crimson liquid pooled in the bathtub rose into the air, crystallized, and transformed into a deep scarlet cord.
He slowly swept back his wet black hair.
As the strands fell away from his face, his features revealed themselves—sharp lines combined with a beauty so striking it sent shivers down the spine.
Black eyes that contrasted with his pale skin.
Even the blood-red madness flickering in their depths was no flaw; rather, it created a strange and dangerous harmony that captivated the gaze.
With his hair bound by the deep scarlet cord, Iransu whispered softly.
“For the cost of one core, it was an excellent result.”
The waiting Observer carefully draped a robe woven from the finest black silk over his shoulders.
Yet Iransu paid no mind as the robe slipped loosely from his shoulders with each step.
Beneath his bare feet as he crossed the darkened interior with languid, fluid grace, a long trail of sticky crimson footprints stretched behind him.
Soon his footsteps came to a halt.
In the deepest corner of a room shrouded in thick darkness stood a throne of bone—constructed from the intertwined remains of an enormous demonic claw and a human skull.
Iransu draped himself across it languidly, leaning at an angle, and accepted the golden chalice that The Observer presented to him.
Humming contentedly, he swirled the golden cup lightly in his hand.
Within it, dark crimson wine sloshed precariously.
Every movement exuded a languid yet arrogant ennui—the peculiar weariness of the fallen.
“The Master performed admirably, as always.”
“My gratitude, my lord.”
“And yet…”
Iransu drew out the words, moistening his lips with wine.
Licking the blood-tinged crimson liquid from the tip of his tongue, Iransu spoke with measured calm.
“I was disappointed.”
Iransu gazed into the void, conjuring the image of The Master as it lingered in his memory.
There existed the perfect superhuman form that Iransu envisioned.
In that moment of silence, the very air itself seemed to grow heavy, filling the space with a suffocating pressure that crushed all breath.
“…I shall take my leave, my lord.”
The Observer, suffocating beneath the unfathomable pressure that Iransu’s true form unconsciously emanated, fled the room the instant he sensed Iransu’s ‘contemplation’ beginning.
The heavy door shut with a dull thud, and absolute silence descended upon the chamber.
Iransu’s mind turned to only one existence—the singular being etched into his consciousness.
‘The Master.’
I died while ascending the 74th Floor.
Was it a lack of strength? Or was it that I could not abandon my humanity?
I no longer remember which it was.
What remained vivid was sinking into the depths of the Tower after my failure, meeting ‘Father,’ becoming the first Apostle, and being cast out beyond the Tower.
And my time, sealed and suspended, began to flow again in that moment when The Master—the final climber—suspended his ascent at the 94th Floor and returned to reality…
The instant fourteen Towers rose across the entire world.
‘The gap between The Master and me spans twenty floors.’
In that hellish Tower, The Master endured twenty more floors than I did, tempering himself through that ordeal.
And beyond that, there are the ten years that have passed since returning to reality.
Then.
If my Master—whom I revere and despise in equal measure—
Should have grown far stronger than I anticipated.
Yet what of the battle with his avatar?
His swordsmanship remains flawless.
The blade energy wreathed in branches was art incarnate.
The luminous sword forged from mana? Perfection itself.
But.
“In the end, it is merely human technique…”
That is all it was.
Before the ‘miracle’ of Father’s authority, it is nothing but an antiquated, stale dance with a blade.
“The Master should have grown stronger still…”
Iransu let the golden chalice slip from his fingers with a soft clink.
It clattered and rolled across the marble.
“I should have etched that suffocating gaze upon you again—the one that once looked down upon me with such contempt I dared not reach for it, along with that bottomless despair.”
The golden chalice rolled across the marble floor, its contents—blood—spreading in a thin crimson trail.
Whether he was concealing his true power or if this truly represented his limit remained unclear.
Iransu reclined deeper into the skeletal throne with an air of boredom.
“How tedious.”
He sank further into its embrace.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Keke—
Kiiiaaa—
The darkness rippled, and shadows began to emit chaotic, discordant sounds.
Snap!
“Silence.”
With eyes closed, Iransu flicked his fingers lightly, and the thrashing darkness fell deathly still.
The control he wielded was incomparably greater than that of the “lesser Iransu” who once struggled to command even a single shadow.
He tilted his head, resting it against his palm.
Iransu’s breathing became rhythmic and measured.
The moment he surrendered completely to slumber.
Grrrgh—!
The darkness began to swell greedily beyond the throne’s reach.
Every inch of space save the immediate radius around Iransu’s seat became submerged in living shadow.
Crunch—crack! Crunch crunch—!
Within darkness grown thick enough to muffle even screams—so as not to disturb the master’s slumber—only the sound of shattering bone echoed through the chamber.
* * *
After thoroughly “disposing” of the vermin known as Pandemonium.
I made my way toward the Engine Room—the vital core nestled in the fortress’s deepest reaches.
It was also the place Whitey had desperately pleaded with me not to damage.
Shuuung—
The moment the final bulkhead that Whitey had hacked through slid open.
“Wow.”
I couldn’t tell if I’d stepped into another dimension or arrived in some distant future.
My first impression was…
A temple of arcane engineering.
The space itself formed a massive sphere.
At its center, a towering glass conduit—dwarfing human height by dozens of times over—stretched from ceiling to floor.
And at the very heart of that glass tube.
Suspended in mid-air was an S-rank mana stone no larger than a fist, radiating an achingly brilliant blue light.
Yet from that single small stone poured forth an energy density incomparable to any nuclear power plant on Earth.
The near-infinite energy produced by the S-rank mana stone flowed through tens of thousands of ultra-high-pressure cables and transparent “mana conduits” connected to the core, spreading like vital arteries throughout the entire fortress.
Thousands of holographic monitors covering the walls displayed the Fortress’s altitude, velocity, energy distribution status, and external observations streaming chaotically in real time.
The blue radiance emanating from the mana stones mingled with the flickering lights of mysterious advanced machinery, transforming the Engine Room into a space both strange and beautiful.
South Korea’s genre was post-apocalyptic.
Yet I felt as though I’d suddenly plummeted into the heart of a warship from centuries in the future.
“I’ve become the owner of an absurdly advanced future warship in the apocalypse.”
Not an apocalypse, and not a future warship either.
Still, such idle musings flowed naturally from my lips.
A steel bridge with an odd luster stretched straight toward the center where the mana stone floated.
It was the only passage by which one could walk to access the Fortress’s ‘core’.
As I made my way along the bridge to stand directly before the core, the main console controlling all the Fortress’s systems stood firmly in place.
Upon reaching it.
[Unauthenticated user detected.]
A red alarm flashed across the monitor.
I suppose that was inevitable.
There was no way such a precious Fortress would be left for anyone to operate like some public bicycle.
But…
I knew one specialist in this field.
“Whitey.”
[Leave it to me.]
I brought my cold wrist, holding Whitey, to the console.
[Warning. Unauthorized external AI intrusion detected. Firewall activated. Initiating isolation protocol.]
The console’s monitor turned red, and a cold, mechanical voice echoed out.
Simultaneously, the entire Engine Room, which had been white, turned red.
Warning lights spun around, emitting a loud, shrill “Wee! Wee!” sound.
The door through which I’d entered slammed shut with a violent bang.
[This bastard…]
Whitey’s vicious curse burst forth without hesitation.
Crackle! Crackle!
Rough sparks began shooting from the console.
“Hey, don’t destroy it.”
[A little destruction is acceptable. Ah, I’ll visualize the hacking process for you, Agent.]
The moment those words left my lips, Whitey’s voice poured through the Fortress’s internal monitors as if forcibly shattering the firmly sealed firewall.
Ding~
A cheerful, carefree sound effect.
And in the center of the massive monitor, a tiny fairy in a pristine white princess dress laden with frills suddenly appeared with a pop.
So Whitey’s original codename was Snow White—that’s how she represented her consciousness.
Snow White gazed down at her hands and the hem of her skirt, then smiled brightly while muttering something terrifying like “If I had a real body, I could smash things so much harder.”
Of course, the biggest problem was that this adorable princess was gripping an absurdly oversized hammer that easily exceeded twice her own body size.
Before the princess stood a sturdy iron door marked with a red ‘LOCK!’ seal.
[Well then, I’ll begin the dismantling.]
On the monitor, Whitey hoisted the hammer high and unleashed a full swing toward the iron door.
Crash!
Sparks erupted in cascading bursts!
…Accompanied by a thunderous sound effect, the console sparked wildly like a creature possessed.
[Attention.]
At the same moment, the “whirring” sound that had been deafening the entire Engine Room cut off abruptly, like a death cry.
Beyond the monitor, fragments of the shattered firewall erupted like blood.
‘Someone just died!’
…That’s what it felt like—a scene of terrifying violence.
[Warning. Warning. Any further damage to the firewall will result in permanent damage to the Mobile Fortress ‘Arachne’s control program ‘Fon’…]
[Want to get through, or want to die?]
Crash! Crash! Boom!
Sparks! Cascading sparks!
[Warning! D-data corruption rate 80%… S-save me, recovery impo—!]
[Get out of the way, you bastard!]
Crash—!
‘This is cyber violence.’
The warning voice gasping from the control program called ‘Fon’ grew increasingly ragged.
And shortly after.
The princess on the monitor, like a laborer after exhausting work, slung the hammer over her shoulder and drew a V with a flourish.
[Mission success!]
“…Well done.”
This wasn’t infiltration but murder… or should I say, AI-slaughter?
I decided not to dwell on the brutal chain of destruction unfolding before my eyes in real time.
[Please wait a moment!]
Instead of the stuttering system voice, Whitey’s cheerful tone—now in control—rang out like a victory fanfare.
As the system began rebooting, all the monitors went dark at once.
Then immediately after, they flickered back to life, bathed in Whitey’s personal colors—a cool blue and white glow.
[Reboot complete. System stabilization 100%. Operational status optimal!]
Hummmmm—!
Tens of thousands of mechanical devices in the Engine Room began breathing in perfect unison under Whitey’s control.
[Agent, I have a report for you.]
On the central monitor, Whitey appeared, having cleanly brushed away the crimson data debris scattered from wielding the hammer.
The princess returned to her pristine, dignified form without a trace, and she smiled brightly as she saluted.
[Complete seizure of all control authority over the Mobile Fortress ‘Arachne’. This fortress is now 100% yours, Agent.]
The impregnable, undetectable Mobile Fortress of Pandemonium that had wreaked havoc for a decade.
It was now in my hands.

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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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