Solo Leveling- Ragnarok-Chapter 331

The tutorial called the Tower of Tribulation was like a fleeting dream. This wasn’t just a metaphor. To the player, it felt like a real, lived experience, but in truth, it was a “dream” conjured by Harmakan’s spells and Ammut’s pyramid.

Players would live through what felt like four long years, but in reality, not even a single second had passed in the real world. It was a literal blink of an eye. Those four years of experience followed a prearranged, carefully crafted storyline for them to experience. While players were free to make their own choices, the overall arc of the story remained unchanged. It was like being in a lucid dream.

Jinho had described it, in terms of a game, like a cinematic opening sequence.

“You’ve got to show them a ruined future first. That’s what gives them a reason to fight, to go back to the past and change everything.”

That was why the first person the player met was always someone meaningful to them. It was designed to synchronize their emotional compass with the protagonist of the dream, aligning their goals perfectly.

Every story was the same, as were the memories. Every player became an older brother to a nonexistent younger sister, and they found themselves compelled to protect her. They became head of their family at a young age and risked their lives entering dungeons as an E-rank hunter to survive. In the process, they would have countless brushes with death, and even experience dying repeatedly—only to awaken again and return to the dungeon.

This system allowed the player to experience death indirectly, from within a game. It was actually meant to make things easier for them.

“Even if they are inside an avatar, it’s not easy for an ordinary person to actually risk their life in a fight against real magic beasts. Ordinary people will be overwhelmed with terror and freeze up if they are so much as hit by a car while crossing the street. That’s why they need time to adjust. The real purpose of the opening is to drive home the fact that no matter how many times they die inside an avatar, they can come back to life again.”

After all, how many average people would ever truly come face-to-face with magic beasts in their lifetime? Even during dungeon breaks, most civilians were evacuated to safety by police or the military. Most people only ever heard the roars of magic beasts from a safe distance, or through the TV. It was nothing like actually standing before one.

Experiencing the terror of locking eyes with one, the pain of being torn apart by its teeth, and having their life flash before their eyes as they realized their moment of death had come—such a thing was deeply traumatic.

“People these days are very accustomed to VR. But even so, dying in an avatar will be like nothing they have ever experienced before. This isn’t virtual reality. This is real.”

That was why it was essential to use a “dream” as a medium. This magical device allowed people to indirectly experience Sung Jinwoo’s life, as Jinchul remembered it. This was the true purpose of the VR experience known as, “Tutorial: Tower of Tribulation.”

However, not everything the players experienced was part of the dream. The opening, meant to immerse and motivate the players, lasted exactly four years. It was the next part that truly mattered.

“That’s when it gets real. If you want to grow your avatar, you’ve got to put in the effort yourself.”

Jinho smiled meaningfully.

If the four years the players experienced were just a momentary dream, then when would they wake? It wasn’t hard to guess.

“The Decrees of the Cartenon Temple.”

Thomas Andre, still inside the game, had entered a dungeon alongside a small party of hunters. By chance, they had stumbled across a “double dungeon.” Now, they found themselves in a vast, dome-shaped chamber. It was enormous—larger than several Olympic stadiums combined—and still somehow felt too small, perhaps because of the towering statue that loomed at the back. Seated in a massive chair, the statue was as large as the Statue of Liberty.

In front of it stood a C-rank magic-oriented hunter named Mr. Song, a veteran with ten years of experience. He was reading aloud from a stone tablet covered in runes.

“L-look...”

Someone tugged on his arm. A female healer, her face pale with fear, raised a trembling hand and pointed at the statue.

“T-the statue’s eyes... They just moved toward us.”

The eyes?

A chill ran down Thomas’ spine. He sharpened his senses.

Wait... Everything’s gone quiet.

The crackling of the torches that had filled the room before was now gone. A strange, unnatural silence had settled over them.

“First,” Mr. Song’s voice echoed through the chamber as he continued reading from the slab, the only sound still audible. “Praise the gods. Second, worship the gods. Third, prove your faith. Any who fail to follow these rules shall not leave here alive.”

As soon as he had finished, a loud sound came from behind them.

“Wh-what the hell?”

“What was that?!”

An earth-shaking thud rang out, and the massive door they’d used to enter slammed shut behind them. Then, in that moment, Thomas woke from his “dream.” He was still inside the game—but something had changed.

“Wh-what in the world?”

Everyone around him was confused and unsettled, but Thomas was disoriented for a different reason. His senses suddenly felt alive. After four long years, his soul had adapted seamlessly to his avatar. And even if this body was only E-rank... he himself had once been a National Level Hunter.

While the others stared in panic at the door, Thomas turned the other way and gritted his teeth.

“Goddamn it!”

Sure enough, just as he’d feared, the eyes of the massive statue were staring straight at them.

He shouted, “Everyone get down!”

A red beam of light burst from both eyes of the towering statue. The opening cinematic had ended. The real game had now begun. This was the true main quest—the trial every player in the Tower of Tribulation would now face, just as Ahjinsoft had promised. This was the real tribulation, the one designed to awaken even the non-hunters.

Everything up until now had taken place within just a few seconds of connecting to the game. From this point onward, players were free to log out at any time.

***

“L-log out...!”

Despite having experienced countless deaths in the dream, the more faint-hearted players crawled out of their capsules and immediately threw up. Shuddering at the overwhelming realism of Ahjinsoft’s creation, they rushed to their computers.

“What kind of lunatic made a game this realistic?!”

But before they could post their criticism of Ahjinsoft, their eyes went wide at the many reviews that had already flooded the internet.

— This is crazy. I actually became a hunter.

— Me too. It wasn’t easy, though...

— I’ve lost track of how many times I died. But I made it.

— Good work, everyone. That quest wasn’t meant to be beaten in the first place.

— I can’t believe I’m a hunter now! Still can’t wrap my head around it.

— Ahjinsoft’s tech is out of this world.

— Respect. Yoo Jinho is a god.

“Wh-what? They... actually awakened? Is this for real?”

The players who had logged out and vomited stared in disbelief. There were simply too many similar reviews for them to dismiss it all as clickbait.

“That’s nuts!”

“Screw it. I’m going back in!”

Driven by renewed resolve, those who had previously backed out now fought to log back in.

“There’s no way I’m giving up after everything I did just to become a beta tester!”

After all, avatar production hadn’t yet caught up to global demand. Not everyone on Earth had even gotten the chance to play yet. The promise of awakening was an opportunity far too tempting to let slip away. Because of this, it didn’t take long for the Tower of Tribulation to start producing new hunters. They were E-rank at best—level one—but word quickly spread. The longer you played, the higher your level. Eventually, you could even gain skills.

These rumors spread like wildfire, until they made it all the way to Yuri Orloff, Prime Minister of Russia.

“So the Tower of Tribulation... was the real deal?” he said.

“Judging from the reports from our informants throughout the world, that seems to be the case, sir,” one of his aides replied.

Yuri ground his teeth.

“So how is it that our country doesn’t have a Tower of Tribulation?”

The aide remained silent at the prime minister’s increasingly foul mood.

Somehow, despite appearing all over the globe simultaneously, not a single tower had manifested within Russian borders. It was quite odd, considering how much surface area Russia covered. Even in China, numerous towers had appeared across several cities due to the country’s size. But Russia? Nothing.

“Has Ahjinsoft still not responded?”

“Well... no.”

“You son of a b*tch! That is their answer!”

Yuri hurled the wine glass he’d been holding. It barely missed the aide’s head, but the man, already used to such tantrums, simply stood without moving, his face pale.

“They’re going to exclude Russia like this and not even try to hide it? What do you think the reason is?”

The aide stayed silent.

“Don’t just stand there. Say something. Why are new hunters popping up everywhere but here?!”

The malice leveled at the aide overwhelmed him, but he didn’t dare speak. He knew that deep down, Yuri already knew the answer.

“What, because Jinho just so happens to be Suho’s relative? You think it’s because I had people investigate Suho’s background? Nonsense! No one knows I sent the Apostle of Paradise after him! And it’s not like that bastard could’ve mentioned my name before dying!”

Yuri knew the Apostle of Paradise’s nature better than anyone. He had viewed all humans as beneath him. He had never bothered to remember their names, seeing no value in doing so. That was why Yuri was sure that his name wouldn’t have slipped out, even in the Apostle’s dying breath.

His face pale with fear, the aide finally managed to come up with a suggestion that wouldn’t provoke Yuri’s wrath.

“Perhaps... it’s the barrier that surrounds our city.”

“What?”

“A Tower of Tribulation isn’t a real building someone built. Apparently it appears through a gate that forms in each country. Perhaps, even if this was Ahjinsoft, they lacked the technological prowess to break through your barrier...”

“Hmm... That does make sense.” Yuri rubbed his chin and smiled, satisfied for once by a somewhat logical explanation. “Well, I suppose. Not even an S-rank magic beast can break through my barriers. I think you may be onto something. So then why isn’t Ahjinsoft returning my messages?”

“Ah... I imagine they’re flooded with requests. Considering how rapidly this game’s expanded across the globe, the company must be stretched thin. The employees probably have their hands full running a game like that.”

The aide began to regain his confidence. Yuri’s anger seemed to be fading.

“Hmm. You’re not wrong. So... what now?”

Yuri fell into thought. Whatever the reason might be, it was unacceptable for Russia to be the only nation excluded while other countries increased their awakened populations, both in terms of politics and the economy.

“I can’t lower the barrier, either...”

Russia’s major cities were safeguarded by a barrier Yuri himself had cast to hold off the magic beasts. If those barriers went down, the swarms just outside would descend on the cities in an instant. It was exactly because of this ever-present danger that Russia had essentially become a colony under the rule of one dictator—Yuri Orloff himself.

But even for a dictator, Yuri was infamous. His rule had grown so brutal that even his fellow Russians trembled. Yet who in Russia would dare criticize his regime? Anyone who drew his ire could be exiled beyond the barrier and left to be torn apart by beasts.

“Hmm. Can’t be helped, then,” Yuri muttered. “Maybe it’s time for a trial run. Let’s borrow one of our neighbor’s towers.”

At those words, the aide turned ghostly white.

Borrow? What did that even mean? The towers weren’t objects you could simply pick up and move. That could only mean one thing...

“Sir, d-do you mean to start a war?”

“What are you talking about? War? Don’t be absurd. You always jump to the darkest conclusions, don’t you?” Yuri gave a casual shrug, lips curling into a smirk. “There’s no need for us to get our hands dirty. I can ask a new friend I made recently.”

The aide instinctively flinched. He knew exactly who this “new friend” was.

Yuri walked over to a safe in the corner of his office and opened it, revealing a peculiar stone tablet. He brought his mouth close to it, as though speaking into a radio.

“Hey, you there? I’ve got a favor to ask.”

After a moment of silence, a voice replied from within the stone.

“How convenient. I want something from you as well.”

A dangerous smile spread across Yuri’s face.

“Oh? Perfect timing, then. What is it you need?”

“My butterflies are hungry. Very hungry.”

“That won’t do. If your butterflies want to eat, they’ll need a proper hunting ground. Shall I look into one for you? People these days are so lazy. No one wants to get out of bed anymore. Hunting is easy... if you go where I tell you.”

“And where would that be?” asked the voice, curious.

Yuri’s grin widened.

“Have you heard of the Tower of Tribulation, my friend?”