The Tower of Honor had become a tower that a lot of people knew about—unlike a few months ago.

Because a ranker from the UK posted about the Tower of Honor on the community.

“A tower only users who’ve rung a world message can climb—kya-ha!”

“Bartender, one Tower of Honor entry ticket, please!”

“We don’t sell to lowbies. Get out!”

“Fuck... sob”

Something only the chosen could climb.

There was even a statistic claiming that not even one person in a million would ever ring a world message in their lifetime.

So people got curious.

The British user who revealed it first.

How many floors had Lanslan climbed?

“How far did you get!?”

“Floor 18?”

“Why 18? Do you know how many floors the Tower of Honor has?”

“I said 18 because my apartment’s on the 18th floor...”

“......”

“......”

Then Lanslan said something shocking.

“I’m surprised so many people are interested in the Tower of Honor. Unfortunately, in my case... I couldn’t even climb it.”

People were baffled, watching him talk around it.

Lanslan, who also worked as a streamer, used the content hook of “a place only the chosen can climb” to grow subscribers worldwide.

But while the attention was nice, it was embarrassing compared to what people expected.

“What do you mean you couldn’t even climb it?”

“You logged out the second you entered? LOL?”

At first, people thought he was dragging it out to keep attention on himself.

But he wasn’t.

“I couldn’t clear even the first floor. Not ‘couldn’t clear’—I got forced to log out the instant I entered.”

“???”

“......?”

“For real?”

Lanslan had a huge subscriber count, and he was clearly a UK top-100 user who had rung a world message once.

So the fact that even he couldn’t clear the first floor hit users like a truck.

Lanslan followed up by uploading the first-floor recording.

The content title was:

“How many minutes can the World Rank #1,511 user survive on Floor 1 of the Tower of Honor?”

And the world froze when they watched it.

“What the hell...?”

The trial on Floor 1 was simple.

Break through a stretch of tower about 150 meters long—fast.

The problem was the mobs around that 150 meters weren’t normal.

Ogres had become mobs high-level users could hunt fairly easily.

But then...

[Honor Ogre Lv.445]

The ogre’s level was wrong.

And what about goblins and orcs—mobs users considered the weakest of the weak?

[Honor Goblin Lv.422]

[Honor Orc Lv.441]

People saw it for the first time in that video:

An ogre that spammed status effects and earthquake every time it swung its axe.

A goblin moving like light with the speed of a ranker-class assassin.

An orc whipping around a flashy greatsword at breakneck speed, like some top-tier greatsword master.

And that was the low-level monster tier.

Most of the mobs were above level 440, and the higher-level ones ranged from 450 to 470.

Those things were packed into Floor 1—into a 150-meter space.

And the time it took for Lanslan to get forced to log out was exactly sixteen seconds.

“......What did I just watch?”

“I watched him get unwrapped, chewed, and enjoyed...”

If only one user appears in a place crawling with monsters, all aggro can’t help but concentrate on that one person.

That’s when people realized it.

“So having an entry ticket doesn’t mean you can climb...”

“For real...”

“Feels like nobody can climb it, lol.”

“Ugh. That’s Pureum Co., Ltd. for you. It was a place you couldn’t climb from the start.”

Lanslan made it clear.

“There are people who climbed it.”

“......?”

“For real?”

“Holy shit...”

“Yes. The message says the better your record is compared to the record-holder, the better the reward. If nobody had ever succeeded, that kind of notice wouldn’t exist.”

“And that makes one thing certain: there’s a clear difference between those who rang a world message by luck and those who rang one with skill.”

“Then you’re saying the ones who rang world messages with skill—or standout rankers—actually climbed it?”

“That’s right. And that’s part of why I felt miserable about myself.”

No matter what, Lanslan was still a top-tier ranker.

And he felt miserable?

“The Tower of Honor has existed for quite a while, and climbs were happening even before. That means there are people who started at least six to eight months earlier than me—and succeeded.”

In a game that hadn’t even been open for five years, six to eight months was enormous.

In reality, if a top-100 ranker takes a six-to-eight-month break, they can get pushed out of the top ten thousand.

Because everyone else grows during that time.

But the ones who cleared Floor 1 and successfully began climbing the tower—

If they started earlier than Lanslan, then when they attempted the clear, they were likely a lower level than Lanslan was now, and their overall skill levels were also likely lower than his.

“If I can offer even a small comfort... I think Floor 1 might be unusually harder than the other floors.”

“That’s not comforting at all.”

“......”

And with Lanslan’s reveal—

The strong who had been hiding it, the ones who had already climbed.

Especially the “record-holders.”

They came out.

They’d kept it under wraps, but once Lanslan exposed the tower, they judged it was better to go public than to keep hiding.

And it was the perfect time: Lanslan had already proven how hard it was, and that had become the accepted truth.

Then the recordings started coming in—recordings from people who had climbed.

And shockingly, the record-holders were different from floor to floor.

Experts said:

“Each floor has a different trial. That’s why this happened. Just °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° like how a user outside the top 100 in PvP can still take first place in raids.”

Just like that, users each had their own strengths, so it made sense.

And the record-holder of this Floor 1—possibly the hardest floor of all.

Amazingly, it was Rund: the world’s number-one wizard ranker who fought in the Great Atlas War, known as the Golden Mage.

Rund’s guide video was the best of the ones uploaded.

Before the trial started, he stored a large number of spells in his wand.

The instant the trial began, he burned half his mana and froze the monsters.

But more than half the monsters had resistance to status effects.

He blinked with a speed that was absurd even to watch, dodging the mobs’ attacks.

He mixed in shields appropriately based on the traits they displayed, and in the gaps between the mobs—whose level was nearing legendary-class—blocking the entrance, he triggered every stored attack spell in his wand at once.

Then he blew past them and set a new record.

That video became the most-viewed Tower of Honor guide—hitting hundreds of millions of views.

In an interview, a reporter asked him:

“Your Floor 1 record is 2 minutes 37 seconds. Could a new record-holder appear on Floor 1?”

Most people expected a normal answer.

But his answer wasn’t the humble “Someday, someone will.”

“No.”

And he explained why.

“The mobs aren’t even classified as boss-grade, and there’s no Legendary monster, but each one shows off its own unique traits and status-effect skills. Damage doesn’t stick, they don’t die easily, and even when you hit them, they don’t back off. And dozens of goblins chase you down as fast as ranker assassins—so there isn’t really a method.”

“But still, someone could pull it off, couldn’t they?”

“......You’re making me repeat myself.”

Rund was like other rankers.

With nobody above him, he didn’t know humility.

“The proof is that Bahala isn’t the record-holder of Floor 1.”

The reporter looked a little startled, then asked:

“It could happen ten years from now, though?”

“The Tower of Honor doesn’t get weaker. After enough time passes, the difficulty will match that time—so even as time passes, it won’t stop being a place only those who can climb, can climb.”

But the reporter didn’t back down.

It was like he wanted to force out a “someone might do it.”

“A new powerhouse could enter the scene—”

“I said it can’t be done! It can’t! Pulling that off is impossible—and if some bastard does pull it off, then that bastard is my older brother!”

It was something Rund said in front of hundreds of thousands of viewers.

“An older brother who brings me water and runs errands like that! I’m telling you, it’s that impossible!”

Rund’s boast held something else too—someone who’d actually climbed, looking at the tower with awe.

Because he’d climbed it, he was certain.

A new record-holder will not appear.

And there were people who shared that opinion.

Pureum Co., Ltd.

A meeting room.

A meeting was being held because the first-class special-management target, user Hyunsoo, was finally heading to the Tower of Honor.

On the screen, Hyunsoo was shown arriving in front of the tower that had been hidden behind a veil.

“Based on a comprehensive review of user Hyunsoo’s personal data, achieving a new record does not seem possible.”

At Team Lead Kim Taeseok’s words, Lee Sejin nodded.

As mentioned, even World Rank #1 Bahala can’t climb the tower while setting new records on every floor.

“The Tower of Honor is a place where each user can bring out only that user’s personal strengths. It can’t be helped.”

And Lee Sejin was also looking at an advantage Hyunsoo gained by being chosen late—something Bahala hadn’t seen.

“Everyone knows this, but the Tower of Honor has an Honor Shop system that can only be used inside the tower.”

And at the start, users each begin with different amounts of Honor Shop points.

This was exactly the Heaven’s Fortune Bahala hadn’t seen—the advantage Hyunsoo had.

“These Honor Points vary based on the quantity and quality of world messages you’ve rung so far. User Hyunsoo started the latest, so his accumulated points can’t help but be overwhelming—of course, he’ll need to climb to a certain point before that strength really shows.”

A massive amount of Honor Points lets you buy special things.

But it was just a precaution, in case something happened.

Because in Lee Sejin’s view, nothing was ever “absolute.”

“And if a new record is achieved, the Honor Points you stack up change astronomically. Stay alert, and have every team run ‘what if’ scenarios.”

Then Lee Sejin’s expression turned interested.

Even without expecting a record, there was something fun here.

User Hyunsoo is a blacksmith—and he’s become an outstanding martial artist.

And like the advantage Bahala pointed out, Hyunsoo had achieved a far larger growth curve.

How will he clear it? How much will he use martial strength and crafting strength?

Hyunsoo had obtained the God’s Forge skill.

The advantage of that skill was that once it activated, nothing could threaten him.

What will user Hyunsoo craft in that situation to push forward?

Of course, he might not craft anything at all.

Lee Sejin thought Hyunsoo might take quite a long time to clear it.

“Let’s eat our lunchboxes while we watch.”

Soon, an employee handed out the lunchboxes.

[User Hyunsoo enters the Tower of Honor.]

And on the screen, Hyunsoo could be seen arriving on the first floor.

Lee Sejin slowly opened the lunchbox lid and focused on the screen.

Hyunsoo looked solemn as he stepped onto Floor 1.

Oh?

Eating while watching a user’s play.

It felt like eating while watching a well-edited JoyTube video.

Let’s take it easy and eat while I watch again today~

Lee Sejin separated his chopsticks, then stopped with a shrimp tempura halfway to his mouth.

“Fire Bird.” 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Lee Sejin’s expression turned intrigued.

Hyunsoo’s newly acquired pet.

Its attack power wasn’t especially high, but as if proving it was legendary, it accomplished a lot.

Users don’t have skills that summon knights or allies.

But Fire Bird made that possible.

Still, Lee Sejin felt a bit disappointed.

Luxiu, Bella, Bon, and the other strong troops—sure, summoning them would be nice.

What disappointed Lee Sejin was this:

But they all have things they’re in the middle of, and user Hyunsoo isn’t in an emergency. And yet he’s going to summon them just for his personal record?

If he spent this one so easily, it looked like he’d keep summoning them easily in the future.

Even for trivial matters.

And if that happened, his vassals would inevitably be disappointed in him, and their affinity would drop.

Then—

“Lucky Lump.”

THUMP—!

Startled, Lee Sejin dropped the shrimp tempura.

This... I didn’t see coming.

He remembered Lucky Lump, who had shined in the Great Atlas War.

The one before whom no being had been able to show wit or tactics.

He pulled up Lucky Lump’s skill.

(Lucky Lump Is Passing Through)

Active Skill

Grade: ???

Level: None

Effect:

Monsters of legendary grade or below cannot block Lucky Lump’s path, no matter who they are.

Activates for 30 seconds.

Some monsters will revere Lucky Lump.

Can only be used once per month.

Lee Sejin thought:

What mattered now wasn’t whether Hyunsoo broke the record.

What matters now is how many seconds it takes him to get through...