When the teleportation light faded and the soles of my feet touched the unfamiliar stone floor again, I immediately knew—this wasn't the third floor anymore.
The pressure was different.
The air here… heavier, like there was an invisible layer pressing down on my shoulders and chest slowly. The fourth floor's room was much wider, with walls adorned by rune carvings like remnants of an ancient civilization. The light being emitted was no longer pale blue, but golden orange—like the remnants of fire left after a long battle.
'Now the fourth floor… and yes, of course… the difficulty rises like a rich man's stock chart.'
First floor: a small horde of goblins.
Second floor: hobgoblins that blasted the floor with their body weight.
Third floor: goblin fighters—fast movements, trained instincts.
And now…
A squad of fully armored goblins. Helmets. Small shields. Military-grade spears. Formation.
"Oh God… these aren't civilian goblins anymore. These are military goblins."
Honestly. If I were still in my original world, I probably would've thrown in the towel and become a complaint-writer on a game forum. But no, instead I was inside it.
[Warning: Fourth floor formation possesses mid-level coordination.]
[Recommendation: Focus on the squad leader first.]
'Of course there's a leader… because the only thing missing from my life is a military strategy system.'
The goblin squad moved together. Not rushing randomly like before, but in synchronized steps. The sound of their tiny heels hitting the floor—tak-tak-tak—in a rhythm that sent a chill down my spine.
Almost funny if they weren't pointing spears at me.
I had to move fast.
I took a deep breath, focused my Qi on the soles of my feet, and leaped into the center of the formation before they could close the distance. Not a stupid frontal charge—but a short mobility technique I pieced together from months of training.
First movement: Attack the central point, breaking the formation.
Second movement: Destroy the command.
I crashed into the front goblin's shield, planted my palm on its helmet, and twisted my waist. The small body was thrown aside, crashing into two other goblins. The formation broke slightly.
Another spear thrust toward me—I twisted my arm, grabbed the spear shaft, pulled its owner, then slammed my elbow onto its helmet. The sound of metal cracking echoed.
Qi vibrated subtly across my entire body. The Heavenly Demon effect grew stronger… my movements sharper, more efficient.
But they kept coming.
I stood in the center of the room, my breath ragged.
Blood—their blue-green and my red—mixed on several parts of the Grandmaster murim outfit I wore.
I dropped myself against the stone wall.
My hands trembled slightly.
My shoulders burned.
My waist felt pulled.
'The fourth floor… feels like a military academy entrance exam.'
I took out a small pouch of jerky from my leather bag. The dried meat was tough, salty, and bland—but I was hungry, so I chewed without thinking. Then I drank the water I had stored earlier. At least it was enough to soothe my burning throat.
Meanwhile, the system displayed a new notification.
[Fourth Floor – Clear]
[Reward: +30 tower coins]
[Access to Tower Shop unlocked (Tier 2)]
"Finally…"
I opened the tower shop—a dark blue holographic menu appeared in the air.
Weapons. Armor. Skill fragments. Potions.
Items of higher quality.
'If only I had more coins… I could buy so many interesting things.'
But because my bones still felt like they had micro-fractures in several places, I focused on just one type of item:
Potions.
Without hesitation, I exchanged most of my tower coins for several small potions.
A soft red light enveloped my body as the liquid worked. Heat crawled under my skin, the pain fading slowly, as if my body was being stitched back together from the inside.
I let out a long breath.
'Well… no wonder so many hunters in manhwa live inside towers. They have their own economy.'
Except I didn't have a guild.
Didn't have a party.
Didn't have friends.
I was alone.
And every floor tried harder to kill me.
'Fifth floor… let's see how sadistic the tower wants to be.'
With my body slowly recovering, I stood up and gripped my small axe.
I stepped toward the teleportation circle.
The light flared.
The air trembled.
The fifth floor… awaits.
...
The fifth floor opened its doors like wrath waiting to be unleashed—an expansive hall with tall stone pillars, cracked marble flooring that reflected my footsteps like the tread of a tiger. The light here was dim, but not the kind of dim that soothes; it was the kind that presses down, as if every shadow had intent. In the distance, rows of goblin soldiers stood in formation—not a wild mob anymore, but a trained military unit. Among them, hobgoblins stood with large shields; and at the peak of that formation, for some reason—a hobgoblin dressed like a medieval knight: clanking helm, layered iron cloak, a longsword reflecting the room's remaining light like smoldering embers.
'Shit. If this isn't a sign of a boss floor, I don't know what is,' I thought, breath tightening. My instincts screamed: priority target—the knight. Cut the command, and the rest will collapse like a house of cards.
[Warning: Floor 5 — Enemy strength increased significantly. Unit cohesion: High. Recommended target: Commander.]
I swallowed hard. No time to hesitate.
My first step was to break through the front formation. They closed ranks like soldiers who had already made peace with death. Spears lined up, shields raised, and the clang of metal echoed like war drums. I loosened my hips, lowered my center of gravity, then shot forward—not a reckless charge, but a controlled slide, using a gap I created with a single palm sweep against the front shield. The metallic thud when I touched that shield rang in my ears, but my momentum didn't stop.
The first goblins tried to hold—today they actually had discipline, unlike the ones I met on the first floor. They moved quickly, rotating positions, provoking chained attacks. I used their rhythm: one straight punch to the chest, one sweep kick to the knee, then a hip turn—a combination I forged from hundreds of repetitions in the forest. Each hit landed with a solid thump, not a breaking crash; they fell, but not as fast as I expected. The formation cracked only slightly—just enough for my eyes to catch the commander tapping his sword on the ground, signaling.
He charged—steps like hammers, each swing of his sword cutting the air in a lethal cadence. His body was larger than a typical hobgoblin; every strike carried destructive weight that could shatter bone. The spears around him shifted into bayonets; the squad tried to close in and pinch me into an easy target.
'Don't be stubborn. Break their focus first,' I ordered myself. I pressed Qi into my dantian, channeling it toward my wrists—not too much, just enough so each kick and strike had density. Qi made my movements a bit heavier, a bit sharper, like adding weight to an imaginary fist.
He came again—a diagonal swing that could've decapitated a skeleton. I shifted my body, ducked slightly, and with one twisting motion, slapped aside the shield of a hobgoblin standing beside the commander, using the rebound to slip under the blade. Here, distance was either a friend— or executioner. I darted into the commander's armpit range, slamming my elbow into his ribs, feeling the resistance of metal plates and incredibly dense flesh. A solid hit—not enough to knock him down—but enough to swivel his attention.
And he smiled behind his helmet—a smile that showed he was enjoying this game.
'Great. Don't get full of yourself,' I muttered. I stepped back twice, putting distance, feeling every part of his body tracking my movements like a navigator tracing a storm. The commander pressed forward; his troops closed the gaps. With one raise of his sword, hundreds of metal gleams darted toward me. This was a war simulation—and I was alone.
The attacks rained in waves; my ears rang, the air felt shredded by thousands of fine blades. I blocked with the back of my hand, twisted my hips, unleashed a series of low kicks aimed at his thighs—to kill his mobility. One kick struck bone, a small crack sounding in my breathing space—then for the first time, I felt blood drip on my skin, sharp and real. But the commander didn't stop; he merely recoiled, then swung his blade in a half-circle that crashed toward the backup goblins, breaking their focus for a moment.
'Can't slip. It's now or never,' I thought. I gathered Qi, preparing the technique I called in my head as Demon Palm – True Break. This wasn't just a strike: it was the fusion of hip foundation, Qi compression in the palm, and released body momentum that turned the air in front of me into a luminous impact.
When the commander opened a slight gap—maybe from overconfidence or maybe to teach his troops a lesson—I leaped. The motion was swift, structured; my palm shot into his chest, Qi focused like a hurled stone, striking with an impact not only physical but also disrupting his energy rhythm—sending a shockwave through his entire frame.
The thud when my hand hit that iron chest was like a giant hammer smashing a shield; but this time, his helm lifted slightly, and for the first time, the commander lost balance. His eyes behind the slit glared at me with hatred—but also a spark of admiration. His body was thrown back, blood leaking through his helmet; not much, but enough to prove even iron bodies had limits.
In an instant, chaos exploded. Troops relying on their leader lost rhythm. Goblins that had been neatly aligned now spilled everywhere, spears twisting out of order. There were screams, metal crashes, and the warm, salty scent of blood filling the air. I used that moment like a hunter embracing the opening night gives: one hit, then another—breaking shields, striking gaps, eliminating enemies before they realized what happened.
But the commander wasn't someone who died easily. He rose again—fiercer, more brutal—swinging his sword with attacks meant solely to kill. This time he aimed directly at my neck. Sweat rolled down my forehead; instinct shoved me sideways, but it was too close. His blade nearly sliced across the back of my neck—nearly. I felt the heat of the cut grazing me, my hair standing on end.
At that moment, I had only one choice: either I died, or I poured everything remaining in my dantian into one deciding strike.
'Now!' I screamed inside my own head, pushing all fear into the furthest corner. I channeled Qi like a draining bottle; fast, dense, explosive. For that one second, my body was no longer a normal human weighing the consequences—I became a condensed hammer. This palm carried thousands of repetitions, thousands of grueling practices, and one insane hope: survival.
Demon Palm – True Break.
The force landed between the commander's shield gap and chest. A shock like a small explosion shook the room, the sound of armor cracking, and finally—collapse. The commander was thrown back two steps, his helmet flying off, his face revealed—a hobgoblin face full of scars, full of hatred, but now his eyes were empty. He fell, and did not move again.
The silence afterward was heavier than the war cries. I stood amid a field of metal and blood, my breath ragged like someone who had sprinted across a chasm. My hands trembled, my body shook, adrenaline running wild through every vein.
[Floor Five — Clear]
[Reward: +50 Tower Coins, Item Drop: Knight's Emblem (Rare)]
I stared at the notification with hands still smeared—not just dirty, but sticky with proof that I stood at the edge of something far greater. The small Knight's Emblem glimmered on the floor; I picked it up with trembling fingers. It felt cold, yet heavy—a sign that what I had defeated was not just a soldier, but a symbol of authority.
'If this is the difficulty level now, what's waiting for me on floor ten?' I asked myself, but the only answer was a bitter chuckle. I lifted my head, gazing at the upward corridor still shrouded in darkness, and for the first time since entering the tower, I felt a kind of exhaustion that wasn't merely physical: exhaustion that clung to the bones from having to stay alert constantly.