Runebound Reverse Tower of The Dead-Chapter 60: Resolved?

"Dead." Kael didn’t soften it. He didn’t decorate it. He let it be blunt, because anything else would sound like guilt dressed as sympathy.

He placed the dagger closer to his neck. "How? you better be very fucking careful now, newcomer." The steel pressed just enough to remind Kael how easy it would be to open skin. Around them, the clan’s green dots held steady. Nobody moved to stop the boss. That meant this was normal.

This was how they sorted liabilities.

"He tried to kill me..." Kael said. He chose the simplest line that could carry the most weight. He didn’t add details yet. Details were where lies died.

The rest of the group seemed to frown and whisper things amongst themselves. Kael caught fragments, muttered disbelief, suspicion, the kind of low conversation that weighed a person like meat on a scale. He kept his face steady, even when his heartbeat hammered in his ears.

"And you killed him for it?" The boss asked. The question was a trap with teeth. If Kael said yes, he admitted violence. If he said no, he sounded weak. Either answer could be used against him.

"That’s a bit rude, was I supposed to wash my neck and hand it to him?"

"You could be lying, you could simply be the one who struck him first." The boss said his knife was digging a hair’s width into Kael’s neck.

"Do I look like a red player?" Kael asked. He didn’t raise his voice. He just met the boss’s eyes as best he could in the dim and let the system label speak for him.

Red players carried a mark in the Tower, and Kael leaned on that stigma like a shield.

The boss’s eyes squinted; he probably used inspect. Kael felt the scrutiny like a hand running over him, looking for cracks. "Ah..." he removed his dagger, "Seems like you didn’t kill him, what happened?" The knife moved away, but the danger didn’t. The boss had simply shifted from immediate threat to interrogation.

"He threw me into the damn pit, where the field boss was to get the boss’s attention..." Kael began weaving a bit of lies with truths. He kept enough truth to anchor the story, He mentioned something about a hidden piece that John wanted to take him to. That made everyone even more questioning besides the boss. Kael felt that the boss seemed to know about it. Then he explained how they couldn’t get into the building as they were chased by a mob of goblins. A small lie, but very believable. And then, they ended up near the boss’s Zone. He told parts of the truth and wrapped it in a lie about intent and sequence.

"For what reason would he want to kill you?" The boss asked. His tone was flat, but the question was sharp. Motivation mattered. Motivation determined whether Kael was a victim or a liability.

"There was a short sword in the boss’s arena. And he used me as a distraction..." Kael said. He watched the boss’s face for reaction. A short sword was believable loot. Greed was a believable motive. People understood greed better than they understood chaos.

"And how did you survive? John is much stronger than you are, he climbed to the twentieth floor, mr floor one." The jab wasn’t just an insult; it was pressure. The boss wanted to see Kael squirm. He wanted to see whether Kael’s story broke under humiliation.

Kael placed his hand on his chest and pulled open his vest. Revealing a swirling brand that didn’t look like a burn, and more like a stigma.

The mark caught what little light remained, its shape too deliberate to be accidental. Kael let them see it fully. Proof always spoke louder than explanation. It also turned attention away from other details he didn’t want examined.

"The only way I was able to...I used the rune you gave me." Kael threw in the word ’You gave me’ to give the boss a bit of credit for how he survived. It was calculated flattery. It turned the rune from "Kael’s secret tool" into "the boss’s contribution." People protected their contributions. People hated admitting their gifts were useless.

"Shit..." The boss said, "You actually used that crap..." The tone was a mix of disbelief and disgust, like the boss had handed Kael garbage and expected him to throw it away, not eat it to survive.

"It was that or death..." Kael said. He didn’t plead. He didn’t apologize. He just stated it like a fact, because survival decisions didn’t need moral approval.

"Fuck, I can’t use you anymore..." he removed his dagger from Kael’s neck, "You cut your path forward by surviving." The words hit Kael like a slap. Not because they were surprising, but because they were honest. In the boss’s mind, Kael had made himself less valuable by choosing the only option that kept him alive. The Tower rewarded that kind of cruelty: the idea that life could be a mistake.

"I could find the man that removes the runes, " Kael started, seizing at the first possible negotiation point. If removal existed, then he wasn’t worthless. If removal existed, then he could still be "used." It was disgusting, framing himself that way, but it was necessary.

He didn’t let Kael finish his words, "That’s only in the normal tower, we don’t know if the same thing is here. You’re worthless to me now." The boss cut him off with certainty, and the certainty was dangerous. A man who decided you were worthless could decide you were also expendable.

"So you’re kicking me out?" Kael tilted his head. He made the question sound light, almost curious, but inside his mind he was already measuring distance, already thinking about Presence, already feeling the rune mark under his shirt like a hidden blade.

"We’re not that mean," the boss said, "You can still use your nose I suppose?" he asked. The words were almost casual, but Kael saw the boss’s hand still holding the dagger, saw the way his grip didn’t loosen. Mercy in the Tower always came with conditions.

Kael squinted... he noticed that the Boss’s grip tightened slightly on the dagger. He had to say the right thing here. One wrong answer and the "not that mean" could become "we don’t need you breathing."

"Yeah, that didn’t go away, the only way I made it here so far was thanks to my nose..." Kael lied, for them they think he has a special nose that can smell enemies, while he had a map that revealed threat and treasure. He kept the lie consistent with what they believed, fed it like a pet so it stayed tame. He didn’t mention the map. The map was his real advantage, and advantages got envied.

"That’s good enough, let’s back away, Peter come back, we’re not checking the threat anymore, seems like our boy here got a lot to tell us." The boss’s tone shifted into command, and the group reacted immediately. Kael felt the pressure ease just slightly, not safety, but a pause in hostility.

"Alright," Peter replied and disappeared from the window, going deeper into the rubble to find another exit.

Kael sighed deeply, the first crisis is averted, but now his words have to be consistent from now on so he avoids suspicion.

Relief tried to seep into his limbs, but he didn’t let it. Relief made you sloppy. He watched the boss, watched the group, watched the way they formed up as if to return to base.

Right now, he managed to live, but he can’t trust the boss of the Sun Clan not to betray him once they’re in the base. A boss who measured people by usefulness didn’t suddenly become kind because he’d sheathed his knife.

He had to be careful from now on; it wasn’t a suggestion but a condition. Every sentence he spoke from this point on was a rope, either a rope that pulled him forward or a rope that would tighten around his throat the moment someone decided to yank.