Chapter 311: Ch 311 : Rewards For Clearing the Tower

A month had passed since the Great Gates of the Tower of Eternity opened their maws for the universe.

In that short span of time, the hierarchy of the climbers had solidified. The mortals, the brave adventurers from the Human, Orc, Elf and all the other races were currently struggling through the Hellfire Mazes of Floor 40.

For them, every floor was a life-or-death struggle, a desperate clawing for resources and survival.

But for the Demigods? The Tower was a sprint.

Most of the ascended beings had already passed the Floor 60.

The lower floors, designed to filter out the weak and temper the resolve of the mortals, were trivial for beings who could shatter worlds. A D-Grade Wolf? An S-Grade Dragon? To a Demigod, these were not monsters; they were just a waste of time.

The only thing that slowed them down was Thea’s Design.

She had implemented complex, shifting labyrinths designed to test more than just brute strength.

There were floors that required solving riddles, floors that required navigating an impossible geometry, and floors where the exit portal moved every ten seconds.

These mechanics forced the proud Demigods to pause. It forced them to consider cooperation. It forced them to realize that in the Tower of Eternity, being strong was not enough; one had to be adaptable.

Lux stood before the swirling violet portal of the 69th Floor.

“Finally,” Lux whispered, wiping the purple blood from his cheek. “Floor 70. At this rate, I will reach the summit in a few weeks. Thalorax might be ahead, but my endurance always wins in the end.”

He stepped through the portal.

ZAP.

The sensation of teleportation twisted his gut. Gravity vanished, then returned back.

When Lux opened his eyes, he wasn’t standing on a safe platform.

He was standing in mud.

[Welcome to Floor 70: The Forest of Ancient Grudges.]

Lux immediately scanned his surroundings. The sky was blocked out by the branches. The trees were titanic, ancient redwoods with bark that looked disturbingly like wrinkled skin. The air was thick, humid, and smelled of old blood.

He turned around. There was no portal behind him.

“Random spawn location,” Lux noted, his muscles tensing. “And no return gate.”

He was used to this. After Floor 50, the Tower stopped holding the climbers’ hands. You appeared where the Tower wanted you to appear, usually in the middle of a danger zone.

You had to fight your way to the exit, locating it through your senses or sheer luck.

But something was different.

Lux expanded his Divine Sense. usually, he could detect the comforting hum of a Safe Zone, a bubble of invulnerability where a climber could rest, eat, and sleep.

“It is weak,” Lux muttered.

On Floor 69, there had been a thousand Safe Zones scattered across the floor. Here? He could barely sense ten.

“The Safe Zones are decreasing exponentially,” Lux analyzed, a cold sweat forming on his brow. “As the monsters get stronger, the places to hide are disappearing. The Tower is forcing us into constant combat.”

For a mortal, this would be a death sentence. Humans needed sleep. They needed to cook food. Without Safe Zones, they would die of exhaustion long before a monster killed them.

He looked at the dense forest surrounding him. It was too quiet. There were no birds. No insects. Just the creaking of wood.

“Again a forest?” Lux whispered, disappointed. “I expected a maze or a Magma Ocean. Wood is easy to break.”

But as he reached out to touch the nearest trunk, his instincts screamed.

This wasn’t wood.

The bark pulsed beneath his fingers. It was warm.

“If all these trees possess S-Grade strength,” Lux thought, calculating the sheer number of trees around him, “it would be annoying, but manageable.”

But then, the tree looked at him.

A knot in the wood twisted, opening like a wooden eye. It glowed with a sickly green mana.

Then, the ground exploded.

CRACK! BOOM!

The roots beneath Lux’s feet lashed out with the speed of a whip. Vines descended from the canopy like spears.

Lux reacted instantly. He was a demigod from God Asura’s world; combat was his native language.

He leaped backward, dodging a root that shattered the rock he had been standing on.

“Fast!” Lux gasped.

He raised his hands. His Talent, Convertor, roared to life. He didn’t block the next attack. He caught it.

As a massive, spear-like root thrust toward his chest, Lux grabbed it.

“Devour!”

Violet energy flared from his palms. The aggressive mana inside the root was sucked out instantly, flowing into Lux’s reserves.

The root withered, turning gray and crumbling into dust.

But the moment he tasted the energy, Lux’s eyes widened in horror.

“This mana…”

“It’s the Mana of a demigod.”

Lux looked around. There were millions of trees. A literal ocean of wood.

“They are all Demigods?” Lux shouted, his voice cracking. “What kind of insane level design is this?!”

A forest where every single tree possessed the mana capacity of a Demigod. Even if they were “Low-Tier” Demigods, numbers had a quality of their own.

RUMBLE.

The forest woke up. Sensing the death of one of their own, the surrounding trees uprooted themselves. They began to march. Thousands of branches sharpened into spikes.

Lux realized the grim reality.

“I can’t kill them all.”

Even with his Converter talent, he had limits. He could replenish his mana endlessly by sucking them dry, but his mind and body would break.

The mental fatigue of processing that much foreign energy would drive him insane. Or he would simply be crushed by the sheer weight of a million tons of wood before he could drain it.

“Death by exhaustion,” Lux grimaced.

He blasted a hole through the incoming wall of vines, creating a temporary clearing. The withered husks of the trees he killed formed a barricade, but the forest was already stepping over the dead.

“I have two options,” Lux calculated rapidly. “Try my luck and run, hoping to find the exit before I collapse… or Camp.”

He looked at the enclosing wall of wood.

“Camp,” he decided. “I need firepower. I need AOE. I need someone who can burn this hellscape to the ground.”

He channeled his power, creating a dome of absorption around himself. Any root that touched the dome withered, buying him precious seconds.

With shaking hands, he opened his System Interface.

[Demigod Chat Room]

This was a feature unlocked only for the ascended beings, a place to share intel, boast and trade.

Lux: “Guys. Emergency. I am on Floor 70. I am pinned down. If anyone is currently on this floor, contact me, I need a party. Fire Mages or those with Destruction Affinity are preferred. I will pay in High-Grade Cores.”

The chat, usually filled with idle banter, paused. Lux was a top-tier demigod. For him to beg for help was rare.

Scyther : “Floor 70? I’m on the 65th. It’s just S-Grade Golems here. What the hell is on the 70th floor that even Lux needs a babysitter?”

Lux: “Trees. Millions of Demigod-Tier Trees. It’s an ocean.”

Thalorax : “Hah. You are struggling with the firewood?”

Lux: “Thalorax… you passed this. How?”

Thalorax: “I am currently on the 78th Level. The 70th was… annoying. But it is also very easy, if you find the Solution.”

Immediately, the chat exploded.

Harpy : “Solution? Please share, Lord Thalorax! I am approaching Floor 70 now. I am willing to pay 50,000 Merits for this intel!”

Gara : “Me too! My rock skin is weak against piercing roots. I need the solution!”

There was a pause. Thalorax, the First Clearer of Floor 1 and all the floor after that, was typing.

Thalorax: “I would love to help my fellow compatriots… but you are forgetting something.”

Thalorax: “This is not just a training ground. This is a Race. I received two SSS-Grade Artifacts for the First Clear of Floor 60 and 70. The rewards for Floor 80 will likely be even greater.”

Thalorax: “Why would I hand you the keys to the kingdom? Figure it out yourself.”

The chat was about to fill with insults.

But then, a new name appeared in the chat. The text was Gold, overriding the standard blue font.

Nova: “My, my. Such lively children.”

The chat froze.

Nova. The First of the Divine Embryos. The direct creation of the Emperor. The definition of ’Royalty’ in the City of Gods.

Usually, the Trueborn Demigods like Nova, Mammon, and all the other DemiGods didn’t participate in the climbing race. They treated the Tower like a scenic walk. They were rarely seen in the chat.

Scyther: “Lord Nova…”

Thalorax: “…”

Nova: “Should I join the fun too? I am currently on Floor 15, enjoying a picnic. But seeing you all struggle makes me want to stretch my wings.”

Panic rippled through the chat. If the Trueborns started trying, the mortal-born Demigods stood no chance. The rewards would be swept clean.

Nova: “I am joking. Relax. The Emperor created this Tower for you. We have our own path.”

Lux breathed a sigh of relief inside his protective dome.

Nova: “However, seeing Thalorax hoard information is disappointing. The Emperor values strength, yes, but he also values the collective growth of the Empire.”

Nova: “So, let me give you all a little motivation. A reason to stop bickering and start climbing.”

Nova: “Do you know what lies beyond Floor 100?”

Lux: “Treasures? An Artifact?”

Thalorax: “A Wish?”

Nova: “Small thinking”

Nova: “The Emperor has decreed it. Any being who clears the 100th Floor… will be granted permission to enter the God Maker Realm.”

Silence. Absolute, terrified silence.

Every Demigod reading the chat felt their hearts stop.

The God Maker Realm. The legendary forbidden zone where the Emperor himself cultivated. The place where time bent, where laws were rewritten, and where mortality was shed.

It wasn’t just a prize. It was Ascension.

Nova: “You are fighting for scraps of metal, Thalorax. The real prize is Divinity. Now… climb.”

Lux stared at the screen. The roots were hammering against his shield, cracks beginning to form. He was exhausted, surrounded, and alone.

But suddenly, he didn’t feel tired.

“Godhood,” Lux whispered, his eyes burning with a maniacal light.

He stood up, canceling his shield. He let the roots come.

“I don’t need a party,” Lux roared, grabbing two approaching trees by their trunks. “I will clear this on my own”

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