XLI

The Fighting Tower loomed before me. It was a testament to architectural ambition and, frankly, the weirdest structure I’d ever encountered. At first glance, it looked like a traditional tower—tall, narrow, and imposing. But once inside, it was clear that the name was misleading. There were no distinct levels or floors, no neatly organized rooms stacked on top of one another. Instead, the interior stretched endlessly upward, a massive, distorted dome that seemed to defy logic.

It felt like the space itself was warped, as though someone had taken the concept of a building and twisted it into a pocket dimension. The air buzzed with a faint hum of energy, a constant reminder that this wasn’t just a physical space but a construct of compressed and altered reality.

The Tower wasn’t just a test of strength or skill; it was a labyrinth of hidden passages and maze-like features designed to test a hunter’s strategy, wit, and resilience. Every twist and turn could be an opportunity or a trap, depending on how well you could navigate its unpredictable terrain.

But the most unsettling aspect of the Tower wasn’t its design—it was its true purpose. Anyone with even a basic understanding of the Tower knew it wasn’t just a battleground. It was a recorder, a data-gathering machine disguised as a testing ground. Every movement, every shift in aura, every technique unleashed—it was all being logged, analyzed, and stored.

This wasn’t common knowledge. Only a select few, like the president and his inner circle, truly understood the scope of the Tower’s surveillance. Hunters entered under the guise of competition, unaware that their every strength and weakness was being dissected in real time. The whole thing felt invasive, like having your diary read aloud to a room full of strangers.

Still, I wasn’t too worried. Let them record. My techniques weren’t the kind you could replicate just by watching. To truly understand them, you’d have to experience them firsthand, and that wasn’t something I planned on making easy for anyone.

I turned my attention to the massive screen dominating the main hall. It displayed the rankings from the last exam. The sheer number of participants—128 hunters—was overwhelming. My eyes scanned the list, zeroing in on my name.

Ninety-ninth. Too close for comfort.

Black wasn’t far ahead, sitting at ninety-eighth, while Selena had managed to snag fifty-second place. Relief washed over me at seeing our names on the board, but it was short-lived. Ranking this low meant there was no room for error in the next stage.

The screen flickered, and suddenly, President Bob’s shiny bald head filled the display. His dorky red cape fluttered slightly, though there was no breeze, and his thick, outdated lenses only added to the ridiculousness of the image.

“Hello?” he said, his voice unsure as he tapped at the lenses. “Hello? Is it working?”

The hall fell silent, a collective awkwardness settling over the hunters.

A second voice, exasperated but amused, broke through the quiet. “It’s working, President. Just go ahead.”

Bob straightened, clearing his throat dramatically. “Ah, yes! Right! Thank you!” He gave the camera a forced smile, clearly trying to shake off his earlier confusion. “Congratulations on passing the exam! Well done, hunters!”

He waved his hands in the air as if to emphasize his enthusiasm. “You’ve earned a rest for today. Tomorrow, we’ll move on to the next stage. If you need food or water, just line up at the vending machine.” He paused for dramatic effect, then added, “Okay, buh-bye!”

And just like that, the screen went blank.

For a moment, no one moved. Then, as if on cue, a spotlight illuminated the vending machine in the corner of the room. It stood about my height, sleek and futuristic, with holographic visuals dancing across its surface.

I sighed, already knowing what was coming.

The machine wasn’t ordinary. It was part of the World Path, an advanced network that allowed hunters to restock supplies from anywhere in the world. Food, water, gear—it could teleport anything directly to you, provided you had the credits to pay for it.

A few hunters approached it hesitantly, their curiosity evident. To them, it probably looked like a fancy snack dispenser. They didn’t realize they were staring at one of the Association’s most classified technologies.

The machine was designed to help hunters survive in the wild, particularly in the Forbidden Region, where traditional supply chains didn’t exist. It was ingenious, really, but also a stark reminder of how much advanced the Association had become.

Hunters began to cautiously approach the vending machines. Their hesitation was palpable—most of them had no idea how the machines worked, and their wariness was evident in every careful step. I glanced around, noting the looks of suspicion and curiosity directed at the machines. Thick with aura and undeniably advanced, they weren’t the kind of thing you just started poking at without a second thought.

Except for me.

Black strolled toward one of the machines, his gait measured and cautious. His expression was unreadable behind his ever-present shades, but I could sense his intrigue. Before he got too close, I couldn’t resist calling out, “Hey, grab me some carbonara while you’re at it!”

The corner of Selena’s mouth twitched into a sly grin, and she added, “And I’ll take a burger!”

Black froze mid-step, turning his head just enough to shoot us a look. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. The sheer weight of his exasperation was practically tangible, like a silent debate over whether it was worth acknowledging us at all.

Around us, the other hunters were beginning to catch on. Lines formed in front of the dozen machines, neat and orderly for now, though a few hunters glanced around nervously. The more adventurous ones were already exploring the options, their faces ranging from impressed to bewildered as they scrolled through holographic menus.

That’s when Geoffrey made his entrance, striding over with his usual air of overconfidence, his smirk firmly in place. Naturally, Atropos followed close behind, her presence as unsettlingly quiet as ever.

“Ah, my friend!” Geoffrey greeted, his voice dripping with mock charm. “How are you faring? I trust you haven’t forgotten about our little wager?”

Selena raised an eyebrow, glancing between us. “What wager?”

I sighed. “Geoffrey and I made a bet about what the test for this stage would be. Information for information. The catch? He only gets to collect if he guessed right.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, clearly unimpressed. “So, did he win?”

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I watched as her focus shifted, her sharp gaze locking onto Atropos.

Selena crossed her arms, her tone cool and pointed. “Shouldn’t you be in the staff wing? Not getting mixed up in all this?”

Atropos tilted her head slightly, her expression as unreadable as ever. “I merely wanted to hang out,” she said in her monotone voice. Then, as if to preempt any further questions, she added, “I’m here to judge the bet between Reynard and Geoffrey.”

Her words carried through the murmurs of the nearby hunters, drawing more attention to our little group. Geoffrey perked up, clearly eager for the spectacle.

“Yes, yes, let’s get on with the show,” he said, gesturing dramatically.

Atropos raised a small metal box, its contents clinking faintly as she opened it. Inside were two folded pieces of paper. She plucked one out and held it up.

“This paper is Geoffrey’s,” she announced. “He guessed with accuracy that the next exam would be Caster-themed, with racing as the mode of competition.”

Geoffrey’s grin widened, his confidence practically oozing as he leaned a little too close. “So… I’ll gladly take my prize.”

“Not so fast,” I said, my voice carrying just enough smugness to wipe the grin off his face. “The winner is the one with more accurate information. Remember?”

Geoffrey’s jaw tightened, but he quickly masked it with a neutral expression, crossing his arms as he waited.

Atropos pulled out the second slip, holding it up for all to see. “This paper is Reynard’s,” she continued, her voice steady. “He guessed with accuracy that the next exam would be Caster-themed, with racing as the mode of competition—with the Fighting Tower as the finish line and the airship as the starting line.”

A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd. Geoffrey’s smirk faltered, a subtle clench of his jaw betraying his irritation. I let my grin spread, savoring the moment.

Geoffrey sighed heavily, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to me. Its edges were slightly worn, as if he’d been handling it nervously in anticipation of this moment.

With a forced smile, he said, “I hope this settles things between us. I admit I was wrong to speak ill of your wife. I won’t do it again.”

The sudden sincerity in his tone caught me off guard, but before I could respond, he added with a chuckle, “Besides, I was planning to give you this information one way or another. Just figured I might get more out of it with this little wager… Who wouldn’t want a favor from the King of Favors, after all?”

I frowned. “King of Favors?”

His chuckle deepened, clearly enjoying my confusion. “It’s what they’re calling you. Word’s been spreading fast among hunters that a whole lot of them owe you favors. They’re even saying that the airship captain owes you… what was it? Eleven favors?”

Beside me, Selena’s eyebrows shot up. “Eleven? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

I kept my face impassive, though inwardly, I couldn’t deny the satisfaction that came with the title. Of course, it was true—but they didn’t need to know that.

A few moments later…

The table appeared before us like a conjured trick, seamlessly rising from the smooth floor of the spacious Fighting Tower. Black, Selena, and I took our seats, setting our meals down—my carbonara in front of me, Selena's burger already in her hands, and Black with what looked like a perfectly roasted duck. The aroma of the food was a pleasant contrast to the tension brewing in the air, a subtle reminder of the challenge that awaited us.

I speared a forkful of pasta, savoring the creamy bite. The sauce was rich, the perfect blend of cheese and spices, but my mind was already racing ahead. Across from me, Selena took a massive bite of her burger, barely waiting to swallow before raising a casual question. “Any ideas what the next test is?”

I nodded, twirling another forkful of carbonara. “It’ll be tournament-style. That’s the standard for the Fighting-themed exams. Brackets, elimination rounds, and a winner at the end.”

Black raised an eyebrow, taking a slow, thoughtful bite of his duck. “So, I guess this is where our mutual cooperation ends.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, leaning back in my chair. “But hey, if we end up matched together, take it easy on me, alright?”

Selena snorted, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous challenge. “Dream on, Reynard. If we cross paths, I’ll wipe the floor with you.”

I smirked, recognizing the fire in her tone. She wasn’t joking. For all her playful jabs, Selena was fiercely competitive. She’d give her all, no matter who stood in her way.

~041