Chapter 80: Equivalent Exchange

Kael’s mind went blank for a moment as the realization hit.

It wasn’t dramatic in the way stories pretended it was, no cinematic flash of memories, no heroic swelling music, just a sudden, ugly stillness in his skull, like someone had wiped a chalkboard clean while he was mid-thought.

He stood there in that blue-ringed void with the council’s presence pressing from all sides, and for a heartbeat, he couldn’t even remember how to breathe properly.

Then it all came crashing back in at once.

Back then, He was honestly and fully depressed when he realized that he was stuck in the tower, unable to do anything for his lonely mother. The thought hit deeper than any goblin’s blade ever could. It didn’t stab, it sank. It was the kind of helplessness that didn’t even bother yelling. It just sat in your chest and grew roots.

The option to leave at the tenth floor was something he knew about, but it could take months to even get there.

Months. That was a word that didn’t fit with “mother” and “mana poisoning” And “surviving long enough without paying hospital fees” in the same sentence. Months was a luxury. Months was a gamble. Months was the Tower laughing quietly while you tried to convince yourself you weren’t too late.

But now, he gets to leave and have an elixir, and no time even passed.

It felt like a blessing in this horrible place, and that alone made Kael suspicious. The Tower didn’t do blessings. It did transactions. It did punishments disguised as lessons. And even when it rewarded you, it always made sure you paid for the privilege of receiving it.

The tower always rewarded effort and punished laziness. It had its rules, and they were firm and cruel. For something this… rewarding, the favor Dragon would ask would probably be astronomical. That’s how this place worked: if you got something good, it was because something else somewhere was about to get worse.

Kael swallowed, tasting dry air that didn’t belong to any world he recognized. He forced his face into something neutral, even though his heart was trying to climb out of his throat.

“What’s the favor?” Kael asked.

“Don’t kill more zombies for the next three days.”

Kael blinked once.

Then again, slower, like his brain was checking if it heard correctly. Three days. Don’t kill more zombies. That was… it? It didn’t sound like a dragon’s request. It sounded like a tired man telling you not to poke a sleeping dog.

“That’s…” Kael started, then stopped himself before his mouth outran his caution. “Can I know the reason why?” Kael asked.

“This wouldn’t have been a problem if the Ifrit hadn’t woken too early, shortening the time. And if you kill more Zombies, the rest will collectively wake up, wreaking havoc on the floor. There will not be a single survivor once they surge out when your floor is already lacking in time and materials. Many of the climbers on your floor are too weak. We do encourage recklessness, but not when it endangers the game.”

Kael listened, and with each sentence, the shape of the problem sharpened. It wasn’t just zombies wake up, people die. It was zombies wake up early, people die before the floor can even adapt. No time to gear. No time to learn. No time to scrape together the tools that let you survive the Tower’s nastier moods.

“Game…” Kael repeated, and the word tasted wrong in his mouth. Like calling a car crash a “bump.”

“It is the most appropriate term,” Dragon said. “A game you willingly chose to play. Is it not?” Dragon asked.

’Not like I had a choice. It was either go into the tower or die drowning…’

Kael didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t know if the Tower punished honesty as much as it punished stupidity, and he wasn’t eager to test which one hurt more. Instead, he rubbed the ridge of his nose with two fingers, pressing hard like he could squeeze the frustration out through bone.

“I understand,” he said finally, voice rough. “If I went on killing more zombies, I would have gotten more… cores.” His mind immediately flashed to the math, cores meant survival, cores meant the exit, cores meant paying Baltak back, cores meant not dying broke. “But seems like it isn’t good for the floor…” Kael replied, forcing himself to keep the bitterness out of it.

He already understood the meaning behind this favor. The reward he would get to simply turn his eyes and ignore the dormant zombies, even though they’d be a good boost to his cores, was far better. If Dragon was offering an elixir, then Dragon was offering leverage over something Kael actually cared about. That wasn’t charity. That was control.

Still… control he might accept, because the alternative was watching his mother die in a world that kept moving without him.

“Fine,” Kael said, the word clipped. “I’ll agree.”

“Good,” Dragon replied, and there was a note of approval, not warm, but satisfied. “Then I’ll be sending you back while we deal with this rabbit,” Dragon replied, pleased with the rationality of Kael.

Kael’s lips parted, then he stopped.

“But,” Kael said.

The room went colder.

Not physically, Kael couldn’t even tell if this place had temperature, but socially. The way attention tightened. The way even silence started listening harder. A sudden but was how deals broke, how trust snapped, how people decided you were trouble again.

Kael lifted a hand slightly, palm out, as if to say I’m not backing out, relax.

“I need this in writing,” Kael said.

“In writing?”

“Contract,” Kael replied, and he didn’t bother softening it. “You can simply say that you never promised me anything if I left.”

“You don’t trust me?” Dragon asked.

Kael huffed once, humorless.

“After that rabbit?” Kael said. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in the direction of Dragon’s voice like the act of looking could force accountability into existence. “I’d trust a snake in my pants more than you administrators, no offense…”

A small giggle sounded from behind Kael.

He stiffened instantly, realizing who that might’ve amused.

“Ah, sorry Lady Snake,” Kael said quickly, tone shifting into damage control. “I didn’t mean it that way… ”

“I understand,” Lady Snake replied, the amusement still faintly in her voice. “Regardless, Dragon, please do give him a contract. It would make us all more… comfortable.”

“Fine then,” Dragon said. “Here.”

Immediately, a notification appeared in front of Kael, floating in the air like a legal document that had decided it wanted to be a threat.

[Once Kael Ardent leaves the tenth floor, he shall be awarded one Elixir. By Dragon.

On the premise that he does not kill any zombies before they awake from their dormant state.]

Kael read it twice. Slowly. The way you read the terms of something that could either save your life or ruin it quietly.

“Simple enough,” Kael said at last. He placed his hand on the notification, feeling nothing but the faintest prickle against his palm, like static. After a breath, Dragon did the same.

[Contract completed under the watch of the Reverse Tower.]

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