I Possessed a Game Where I Die If I Don’t Clear the Tower - Chapter 30

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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 30. Reality Over Efficiency
It took approximately one second for a roughly one-kilogram stone, falling from a height of twenty-five meters at eighty kilometers per hour, to strike the backs of the summoned undead and the caster.
The summoned creature shattered and the caster’s life ended in exactly one second.
The Necromancer, whose form was not that of a living being but rather a corpse possessed by a departed soul, startled and released a mental pulse instead of a voice.
[What is this…!? You said the Lord had lost her power…!]
Camilia’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
‘Hmm? How does that Necromancer know about my condition?’
Aside from Zehar Al Rashid, Rohengreen Ashen, and Netanel Fragma, no one should have known that my state was abnormal.
Regardless, now that the creature was panicked was our chance. I retreated and barked orders to my party.
“Rohengreen, Nashu! Destroy the Apostle’s head!”
If the summoning was interrupted, the next recourse was obvious. I had to reduce the corpse to a ‘destroyed’ state before it could raise the dead Paladin.
“H-h-head…! Yes!”
Nashu Shumel stammered in panic but swung his mace to shatter the Apostle’s skull as ordered, but Rohengreen Ashen did not.
He rushed forward and, shield in hand, positioned himself directly in front of me.
“Be careful, my Lord!”
‘Rohengreen! You’re blocking my view! I can’t see the Necromancer casting!’
Do you know what kinds of Necromancy spells exist? Do you know the motions? Can you even count the incantation?!
I felt a flash of irritation but forced myself to calm down.
Rohengreen Ashen’s judgment wasn’t entirely wrong.
With only six health points, even covered in blessings and protective miracles, a single hit would finish me.
Besides, I could roughly discern what was coming anyway.
‘First will be a protective barrier.’
[Cheap tricks…!]
As I predicted, the Necromancer, protecting the possessed body, raised the corpse’s broken arm and lifted the staff upward.
[Children of Pallas! Heed the covenant! Become my strength!]
As malevolent power scattered through the mental pulse, Bella Falk, the rogue without blessing, staggered.
In that moment, the two dealers of the Pantheon Party slit their own throats and drove blades into their abdomens.
‘So it’s going to kill not just the Apostle but the entire party and turn them into summoned creatures? That’s a servitude-type build.’
I had often used that build when I played as a Necromancer, and aside from the reputation plummeting, the performance was quite solid.
When creatures willingly became undead, the stat reduction was minimal and the enhancement efficiency was excellent.
‘Then next comes resurrection of the dead.’
[Rise!]
Sure enough, the Necromancer chanted a resurrection spell over the fallen Pantheon Party members.
I opened my inventory the moment the distinctive mechanical hum unique to resurrection echoed—whoooosh.
‘Dump slots six through ten!’
Another cascade of stones poured down.
But this time, the target wasn’t the Necromancer—it was the corpses of the Pantheon Party.
The bodies were torn to shreds by the stones raining down from twenty-five meters.
Everything happened so fast that the Necromancer inhabiting the caster’s body couldn’t cancel the spell.
[This… this cannot be…!]
As a result, the precious lion resurrection spell was wasted on raising a headless corpse and a body with bones shattered and hanging in tatters across its frame.
The Necromancer shuddered with rage.
[This monster bastard, how are you casting magic without even chanting a spell…!]
‘Who’s calling who a monster here, really?’
Besides, it wasn’t even magic—and I couldn’t possibly shout every time I discarded an item from my inventory.
This “cheap-stone shower” I was using now was a loophole exploit using the inventory system.
When using items from the inventory, the range and power are determined by the caster’s stats, but simple discarding has no such restrictions.
Within the 25-meter automatic collection range for ordinary items, I could instantly drop items wherever I wanted—at my feet or in mid-air.
That said, most people wouldn’t fill their entire inventory with rocks, but I wasn’t your average gamer—I was an obsessive veteran player.
The day before entering The Tower, I had my servants gather as many stones as possible and crammed every remaining inventory slot to capacity.
It was possible because the lord’s bag had no weight limit.
‘And it’s actually working out perfectly, isn’t it?’
Using bundles of rocks (99) to blow away possession for two turns, and then consuming a 3-tier shield spell and a 5-tier lion resurrection spell—that wasn’t just a good deal, it was hitting the lottery.
The problem was that my opponent wasn’t weak enough to be knocked down by cheap-stone shower.
I could tell just from looking at Netanel’s hardened expression—he’d been completely at ease against apostles, but not now.
“…This is truly troublesome. I have very few miracles that are useful against the undead.”
“I know.”
The biggest problem was this.
Netanel had no miracles related to the undead.
Of course not. What business would the high priest of the god of commerce have performing miracles against corpses?
Sanctuary would work—it’s a supreme miracle effective against anything with evil alignment—but I’d already blown through it with the balanced scales, so I can’t use it now.
Why not just pay gold instead of using divine power?
What creditor would lend money to someone who hasn’t even repaid their previous debt?
Golden Scales miracle loans are contingent on repayment.
Since I didn’t pay back the outstanding balance from the last battle, I can’t draw on it this time.
‘Ugh, should I have done some gold grinding in advance? But Nashu’s efficiency right now is really not great.’
“Master, I hate to suggest this, but if there’s no other way…”
“No, it’s fine.”
I answered hastily.
Don’t you dare suggest running away alone, Netanel. Don’t you see those elite adventurers glaring at us with murder in their eyes?
My favorability is already in the gutter because of the mental magic, and if I declare a retreat, they’ll run me through. One hundred percent.
“…Lord, is there truly a way for all of us to escape alive?”
Ken’s subtle emphasis on “Lord” as he asked made the situation feel precarious.
Even as I felt my nerve beginning to fray, I arrogantly lifted my chin and answered.
“Of course there is.”
It wasn’t mere bluster.
In my mind, I had three plans: one where two of us die and we escape, one where only my party survives, and one where nobody dies.
The most dangerous of these three was the last one.
One misstep with a single spell and it all falls apart—an extreme tightrope walk—and even if successful, my territory’s reputation would be ruined for a while.
Allies can be replaced, but reputation is hard to build and risks the entire territory rising up in revolt.
From a pure efficiency standpoint, naturally it would be better if someone died.
If it were just Camilia’s party, perhaps—but with an NPC party conveniently positioned beside us as expendable sacrifices, the logic became even more compelling.
‘The problem is, it doesn’t work out that way.’
Killing the villains attacking me, those scheming to topple The Tower—that wasn’t particularly difficult.
But Ken Schmidt, Lena Fisher, and Bella Falk were different.
I knew them.
I’d recruited them as companions dozens of times over and cleared every personal quest they offered—there was no way I wouldn’t know them.
Ken has seven younger siblings. I’d seen their names so many times while clearing his personal story that I’d memorized them out of sheer repetition.
Lena and Bella each harbor unrequited feelings they think are one-sided, but they actually care for each other. A confession event opens during the first-year festival.
When I was just playing the game, it meant nothing.
Even watching Ken die and his children starve afterward, I’d just grumble, ‘Ugh, why does this game have to write such unsatisfying stories?’ and move on.
Even seeing the event where one of Lena or Bella survives and cries while holding the engagement ring the other had prepared to give them, I’d just think, ‘Wow, great game design. Couples are best when torn apart,’ and hit skip.
Efficiency-wise, I should do the same thing now, but…
‘I can’t.’
If there were only one choice, I would naturally choose efficiency.
If someone had to die, it certainly wouldn’t be me.
I was selfish—and frankly, the most important thing to Camilia was my own life.
And that was where it ended.
I could only be selfish up to that point.
When there was a way for everyone to survive, choosing to kill someone just because it was easier—that wasn’t just lacking in principles, it was shameful.
‘I’m known as the ultimate stagnant player, and I’m supposed to pull some sacrifice play on the 2nd Floor? I’d be too embarrassed to even show my face.’
Every time I climbed The Tower, I didn’t want to pathetically mutter, ‘Let us not forget Ken’s sacrifice…’
I’d rather watch the lord’s statue crumble and the gates burn while clutching my head in anguish—that would be a hundred times better.
Emotional?
Hypocritical?
After all that talk about efficiency, what am I doing?
Isn’t it just as inefficient to mock emotions, laugh at conscience, play the cynic, and then go mad from mental breakdown later, whimpering and ruined?
Even the Mirror of Clarity, who’s been working overtime preventing all sorts of mental status abnormalities, would agree I’m right in this case, wouldn’t they?!
‘Forget it! As long as we succeed, that’s all that matters!’
With my resolve set, I stepped back and issued the command.
“Three minutes. Hold them back no matter what.”

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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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