Chapter 9: Unshaken Resolve

  The city felt different.

  Not just changed—but warped.

  Jisoo stepped outside, hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping across the morning streets. It had been two days since the Awakening, and already, the cracks were forming.

  Trash lined the sidewalks. More than usual. Abandoned cars clogged intersections, some with shattered windows, their alarms long since silenced. Some storefronts had been broken into, metal shutters pried open, shelves ransacked. It wasn’t every store, nor was the city completely lawless, but the shift was undeniable. The crime rate had spiked overnight.

  It had been the same in his past life. In the immediate aftermath of the Awakening, law enforcement had struggled to keep order. Some people had woken up with power and thought that meant they could do whatever they wanted. Robberies, assaults—even makeshift cults had begun forming in the chaos. However, countermeasures had been developed quickly, and within weeks, stability had returned. This level of lawlessness wouldn’t last long.

  And the sirens.

  They had barely stopped since last night.

  Law enforcement was scrambling to keep control, but their authority was already slipping. The police and government were still trying to figure out what Awakening meant, how to classify abilities, how to enforce laws when some people had powers that could tear through metal or vanish into thin air.

  Jisoo had expected this. It was inevitable. Give people power without rules, and they’d make their own.

  But he knew the chaos wouldn’t last. The world was still adjusting. The strong would rise, and the weak would be swallowed whole. Systems would be put in place, factions would form, and order would return—but right now? Right now, everything was raw, unshaped. The perfect time to move.

  Jisoo stretched his shoulders, rolling out the stiffness in his muscles. His body still ached from the relentless pace he had set over the past two days.

  In two days, he had cleared nine floors.

  Floor 6 had been easy.

  Floor 7 had been… manageable.

  Floor 8 had pushed him.

  Floor 9 had been a lesson in endurance.

  Each floor had forced him to adapt. His movements were sharper, his stamina more refined, his instincts honed. He had faced new enemies, learned their patterns, and exploited their weaknesses. His notebook had saved him more times than he could count—allowing him to predict attacks, adjust strategies, and maneuver with precision.

  But Floor 10 was different.

  It was the first true wall.

  For most climbers, Floor 10 was where reality set in. The first boss fight. The first time challengers realized that the Tower wasn’t just a trial—it was a battlefield. Weakness wasn’t an option. If you weren’t prepared, you died.

  Jisoo wouldn’t hesitate.

  Not after everything he had already been through.

  Before anything else, there was one final thing to confirm.

  Jisoo made his way toward a convenience store, his pace unhurried despite the tension in the air. He walked past a man arguing with a shopkeeper, demanding something for free.

  "Can you keep it down?" Jisoo said, his voice calm but firm.

  The man turned, irritation flashing across his face. "What did you just say to me?" He took a step forward, clearly ready to escalate. But then, Jisoo met his gaze—cold, sharp, utterly devoid of fear.

  For a split second, the air between them grew heavy. The man hesitated, his throat bobbing as if he suddenly realized he was standing in front of something he didn’t quite understand. His bravado wavered.

  "Tch." He clicked his tongue, stepping back. "I won’t forget this," he muttered before slinking away.

  Jisoo watched him go before stepping inside the small, dimly lit store. The stale scent of instant noodles and cheap cigarettes clung to the air, mixing with the hum of an overhead television mounted in the corner. The screen flickered, displaying today’s lottery results.

  He already knew the numbers. But seeing them displayed made it real.

  “The grand prize, totaling over 6.3 billion KRW, remains unclaimed as of this morning—”

  Jisoo exhaled slowly.

  It worked.

  It actually worked.

  A surge of relief settled in his chest, tempered only by the reality of what this meant. Financial security. That was the first step toward stability. Toward ensuring his mother and Nari would be safe, no matter what came next. The weight that had lingered on his shoulders for so long finally felt… lighter.

  But there was one rule.

  No one could know.

  Not his mother.

  Not Nari.

  And especially not his father.

  If that bastard caught wind of this… he would never let go.

  Jisoo clenched his jaw, slipping his hands into his pockets before leaving the store. He needed to claim the prize immediately—before anything unexpected happened.

  The walk to the lottery headquarters was uneventful, but his mind was running through contingencies. He couldn’t just walk in and claim the prize like a fool. Walking out with billions of won in his name was a death sentence.

  Before stepping inside, he stopped at a small, run-down shop and bought a plain cap, a mask, and a cheap jacket. Not enough to stand out—just enough to blend in. He pulled the cap low over his eyes, ensuring his face was as unremarkable as possible.

  When he finally entered the lottery building, he kept his head down, his movements calm but purposeful. The receptionist barely glanced at him as he approached the counter, sliding the ticket forward.

  A soft beep. A flicker of recognition on the clerk’s face.

  Then—

  A pause.

  A sharp inhale.

  The clerk’s eyes flickered toward him, then back to the screen.

  “…I assume you wish to claim this anonymously?”

  Jisoo nodded. “Yes.”

  The clerk hesitated, then motioned for someone in the back. A security officer emerged, leading him through a separate entrance.

  A private room. No cameras. Just a desk, a few forms, and a contract.

  Jisoo read everything carefully before signing.

  Less than an hour later—

  The money was his.

  But no one would know his name.

  The funds would be dispersed gradually, avoiding suspicion. A secondary account had been created, separate from his usual one. The prize had been claimed under a shell identity. Layers of protection. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best he could do without drawing attention.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He stepped out of the building, the morning sun casting long shadows against the pavement.

  Now, he was no longer just surviving.

  Now, he had power.

  By the time he left the lottery office, a system notification appeared.

  [Auction Listings – Your items have sold!]

  Jisoo checked the numbers.

  Ridiculous.

  The items he had dumped onto the Tower’s Auction Board had been bought up almost immediately.

  A few pieces of basic gear from Floors 6-9, some mana potions, a handful of crafting materials—trash to him, gold to everyone else, at least at the early stages.

  His system displayed the earnings.

  [Total Profit: 21,300,000 KRW]

  For a normal person, that was an absurd amount.

  For Jisoo?

  Pocket change.

  But this was just the beginning.

  The real market manipulation would come later.

  For now, he let the numbers settle in.

  With both his real-world and Tower finances secured, there was only one thing left.

  Jisoo stepped back into his room, locking the door behind him.

  [Tower of Trials – Floor 10 Available.]

  Time to prove it.

  Jisoo sat on the edge of his bed, rolling his shoulders as he exhaled deeply. The weight of the day ahead loomed over him, but his mind was sharp, focused. It had been an exhausting morning already—claiming his lottery prize while keeping a low profile, ensuring no loose ends remained. Now, with that matter settled, he could finally turn his attention to what truly mattered: Floor 10.

  "Mom!"

  His blood ran cold. Instinct kicked in before thought, his body moving on its own as he bolted from his room, barely registering the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

  He found them in the kitchen. His mother lay slumped against the counter, her body limp, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. Nari was at her side, hands gripping her shoulders, trying to keep her steady.

  "Mom! Wake up!" Nari pleaded, voice trembling. "Jisoo, help me!"

  Jisoo was already there, kneeling beside their mother, carefully supporting her weight. She was burning up. He could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the sweat beading along her forehead. She stirred slightly, blinking sluggishly up at them.

  "I'm... okay," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just a little dizzy."

  "This isn’t normal!" Nari snapped, panic flashing in her eyes. "We need to call a doctor—"

  "No," Jisoo said firmly.

  Nari whipped her head toward him, disbelief written all over her face. "Are you serious? Jisoo, she nearly collapsed! She needs help!"

  Jisoo met her gaze, steady and unwavering. He had known this was coming, but seeing it unfold again still made his stomach churn. He had spent his past life watching helplessly as their mother’s condition worsened. No doctor had ever found an explanation. No medicine had ever worked.

  The Awakening had triggered something in people. Some grew stronger. Some developed abilities. And some—like their mother—grew weaker, as if something unseen was draining the life from them.

  "Nari," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I know this looks bad, but listen to me. This isn’t something a doctor can fix."

  "How the hell would you know that?" Nari snapped, her voice cracking. "She nearly collapsed, Jisoo! We can’t just do nothing—"

  "I’m not doing nothing," he cut in, his gaze steady. "I’ll take care of it. But you need to trust me."

  "I’ll try my best to take care of it. Trust me," Jisoo cut in, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Can you do me a favor and stay by Mom’s side as much as you can this week?"

  Nari hesitated, her frustration warring with uncertainty. His certainty should have reassured her, but instead, it just confused her more. "I don’t get you sometimes," she muttered. "But fine. If you’re wrong, I won’t forgive you."

  Jisoo exhaled softly. "Deal."

  Their mother stirred slightly, giving them a tired but warm smile. "You two always bicker like this," she murmured. "I’ll be fine, don’t worry so much."

  Jisoo knew she was just trying to reassure them, but that only strengthened his resolve.

  If the Tower held even the smallest clue to a cure, he would find it.

  He had another task to take care of before that.

  Jisoo left the apartment and made his way toward Iron Hand’s hideout. It was a small, rundown building, the kind that blended into the decaying outskirts of the city. The kind of place most people would rather avoid.

  The moment he stepped inside, he felt the shift in atmosphere. A couple of men sat around, playing cards, smoking, chatting in low voices. The scent of cheap alcohol and cigarettes lingered in the air.

  One of them, a man with a thick scar down his cheek, glanced up. "You’re early. The next payment ain't due yet."

  Jisoo reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope, dropping it onto the counter. "Full payment. Plus interest."

  Hyeonjoon raised an eyebrow before flipping through the bills, whistling low. "Didn’t expect you to actually pay it all off. Your old man sure as hell never did."

  Jisoo didn’t react. He turned to leave, but another voice stopped him.

  "Hold up."

  One of the lower-ranked members—someone Jisoo recognized from past encounters—was eyeing him with suspicion. "Where'd you get the money?"

  Jisoo paused, turning his gaze toward the man. "Not your business."

  The man smirked, but his eyes were sharp. "Come on, kid. You don’t just pull that kind of cash out of nowhere. Unless you’re sitting on a jackpot?" He leaned forward slightly. "Could be useful knowing where you got lucky."

  Jisoo took a slow step toward him. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to.

  Instead, his gaze darkened, a silent weight pressing into the air between them. It was subtle, but the shift in his presence was undeniable. Not a glare, not even a threat—a promise.

  The man’s smirk faltered. He stiffened slightly, as if something deep in his instincts screamed at him to stop talking.

  Jisoo held the stare for a moment longer before turning away. "We're done here."

  The man swallowed, his bravado shaken. As Jisoo stepped out into the morning air, he could still hear the man muttering under his breath.

  "I won’t forget this."

  Jisoo didn’t care.

  One less problem to deal with.

  Returning home, Jisoo stepped inside quietly, checking on his mother. She was resting, Nari sitting by her side, watching her carefully. When Nari noticed him, she only gave a small nod. She was still wary, but at least she wasn’t arguing anymore.

  "She’s asleep," Nari murmured. "You sure you know what you’re doing?"

  Jisoo met her gaze, unshaken. "Yeah."

  She studied him for a moment before sighing. "Just... don’t do anything stupid."

  Jisoo smirked slightly. "No promises."

  With that, he turned toward his room, his mind already shifting gears.

  Floor 10.

  He sat on the edge of his bed, opening his system interface. He had already cleared Floors 6 through 9, but this was where the real challenge began.

  Most challengers formed parties for this floor. The boss wasn’t just strong—it had a summoning ability. Even the best solo climbers struggled against it. Going in alone was considered suicide.

  Jisoo wasn’t concerned.

  He had already mapped out its weaknesses. He knew what mistakes other players had made before—and how to exploit the gaps they missed.

  His fingers hovered over the Tower interface.

  Jisoo wasn’t just anyone.

  He had studied this boss, analyzed its weaknesses, found the one way to counter it without relying on numbers. If he could execute his strategy perfectly, he wouldn’t just clear the floor—he would dominate it.

  His fingers hovered over the Tower interface.

  [Floor 10]

  The system chimed in.

  [“Nervous? This is barely the start.”]

  Jisoo smirked. He wasn’t nervous.

  He was ready.

  "Let’s find out."

  With a final breath, he stepped in.

  The world around Jisoo twisted as the familiar weightlessness of the Tower’s transition wrapped around him. The air shifted, the dim glow of the teleportation fading, and when his feet touched solid ground once more, the silence was deafening.

  Floor 10.

  The first true wall for most Awakeners.

  Jisoo exhaled slowly, his gaze adjusting to the dimly lit expanse before him. The chamber was massive—far larger than the previous floors. Jagged pillars of black stone jutted from the ground like the ribs of some long-dead beast, stretching toward the cavernous ceiling. The walls pulsed faintly with an eerie, greenish glow, cracks in the ancient stone breathing with an unnatural energy.

  And at the center of it all—the Warlord of the Forgotten Legion.

  Jisoo’s grip on his weapon tightened as the figure stirred.

  A towering figure of iron and decay, the boss sat upon a throne of bones, its skeletal frame wrapped in layers of rusted armor, battle-worn and fractured from wars long past. The helm it wore was cracked, a single, hollow eye socket gleaming with spectral fire. Despite its stillness, the sheer pressure it exuded was suffocating.

  Then, it moved.

  A deep, rattling breath escaped from within its broken chest plate. The bones of its fingers curled around the hilt of a massive, jagged greatsword embedded into the ground before it. With deliberate, unhurried ease, the Warlord rose to its feet, the sound of grinding metal and shifting bones echoing through the vast chamber.

  Jisoo’s heartbeat remained steady. He had been waiting for this.

  The Warlord stood motionless for a moment, then—its hollow gaze locked onto him. The ghostly embers in its sockets flared, and then, slowly, it raised its free hand.

  Jisoo knew what was coming.

  The moment the Warlord's bony fingers curled into a fist, the ground trembled.

  Cracks split the stone beneath them, jagged fractures spreading outward in an intricate, almost deliberate pattern. From those cracks, they came.

  A deep, guttural groan rippled through the chamber as the first of them crawled forth from the abyss. Skeletal warriors, wrapped in decayed remnants of armor, their empty sockets glowing with the same spectral fire as their master. One became two. Two became ten.

  And it didn’t stop.

  An army of the dead.

  Jisoo exhaled, rolling his shoulders as the system chimed softly in his mind.

  *[Boss Battle Initiated – The Warlord of the Forgotten Legion.]

  [Survive. Overcome. Conquer.]

  The Warlord’s hollow sockets burned brighter. Its skeletal jaw unhinged, and from within its decayed throat—

  A warhorn’s roar erupted. The dead answered.

  Jisoo smirked.

  "Let’s dance."*