The Andras Cult was active again.
Their latest victim—may his soul rest in peace—was none other than Koël Fruwich, Germany's Financial Minister. What kind of mission did they send him on? That's a tale for another time. What matters is that he failed. And if there's one thing the Andras Cult doesn't tolerate, it's failure.
These weren't your everyday cultists wearing tin-foil hats and chanting nonsense. The Andras Cult was dangerous. Among their ranks were powerful players, and more terrifyingly, they possessed something even more lethal—Artifacts.
Artifacts were ancient, magical items of immense power, granting buffs that could change the tide of battle. They came in levels, such as:
A-tier Artifacts
S-tier Artifacts
(There are more, but let's not spoil the whole catalog just yet.)
If a C-rank player equipped an S-tier Artifact, they could temporarily rival an A-rank player. That's how the Andras Cult had been pulling off assassinations of high-ranked individuals—murder by magic cheat code.
But enough about them for now. Let's return to our favorite misfit…
---
Denzel trudged back home after another long, exhausting day of dungeon grinding with Ryan. Just as he passed by a familiar neighborhood, he caught sight of someone at a gate—Olivia, fresh from her evening jog.
"Hey! Olivia!" he called out instinctively.
She turned, startled. Dressed in a pink sports bra and matching shorts, her face was glistening with sweat. She frantically wiped her face with the towel draped around her neck before hiding it behind her back.
"I see you've just wrapped up your jog," Denzel smiled, approaching.
"And you look like you've just wrestled a dragon," Olivia replied, scanning his disheveled state.
Denzel exhaled deeply. "I need a favor."
Olivia's heart skipped a beat. "Go on…"
"Can you keep what you saw me do yesterday a secret?"
Her cheerful expression dimmed. "...Sure."
"Great. Just between us, okay? Pinkie swear."
They hooked fingers. "Pinkie swear," she said quietly.
They ended up chatting for a while—reminiscing about their childhood misadventures, laughing at things only old friends would find funny. Eventually, they said their goodbyes.
Olivia walked into her modest room—less "girly" than one might expect, but still homely—and collapsed onto her bed. She muffled a scream into her pillow.
"Ugh! That boy's playing with my heart like a game controller!"
Her cheeks flushed red, torn between joy and frustration. "One day… you'll notice me properly, idiot."
Looks like someone's finally stopped denying the Denzel crush rumors.
---
Meanwhile, romance was the last thing on Denzel's mind.
He and Ryan were preparing for a one-month expedition into the Tower. Their goal?
[Conquer the 20th Floor]
Ryan needed to sharpen his skills for the upcoming Alpha Project, while Denzel… well, he had to surpass himself entirely. If he ever hoped to match the likes of Karus, he'd need to become stronger than he'd ever imagined.
But what about Leon?
Where was he?
One month earlier… (Please note that this one month is in accordance to the time before they climbed the tower so technically its the same day but whatever... I feel like I just spat a load on nonsense)
On top of a wind-battered skyscraper, Leon stood, eyes closed, hair fluttering. The sky above him crackled with otherworldly energy.
"I'm ready, Andromelech."
A voice echoed around him. "Leon, if you do this, there's no guarantee you'll gain the Elysium's Tears. Are you certain?"
"I resolved myself a long time ago. Besides, your world's time flows faster. I can afford the risk."
Leon raised his hand.
"Hellheimer Gate—Open."
[Ping! Ping! Ping!]
[Congratulations! You've ascended to a realm beyond Earth.]
[Hellheimer's Gate opens…]
[The Creator is loving your tenacity! +20,000 FP]
A red portal engulfed him—and just like that, Leon vanished from Earth.
Present Day…
[Floor 20: The Icy Mount]
"I—am—freezing!" Ryan trembled violently. "My organs are staging a mutiny!"
"Deal with it," Denzel muttered. "You're wearing more layers than I am."
"We've been stuck on this ice hell for a week and still no sign of that damn yeti!"
"Correction," Denzel said, "we don't even know if it's a yeti we're looking for."
"All we've seen are psychotic bunnies and ice-lizards! How hard is it to find a monster with a two-meter tooth?!"
Ryan gestured wildly to emphasize the size.
"Shush," Denzel whispered. "Look… a cave."
Ryan groaned. "Another one? That's the sixth—no, seventh cave. What's different this time?"
GROWL!
The earth beneath their boots rumbled. The sound echoed from within the cave.
Denzel's lips curled into a devilish smile. "That's what."
Ryan cracked his knuckles, the frost breaking off his gloves. "Finally—some action."
They hoisted their backpacks and trudged toward the cave entrance.
The 20th Floor wasn't a winter wonderland. It was a frozen wasteland that could reach -90°C, cold enough to freeze your dignity right off. Only high-level players with specialized equipment could survive there.
Their mission was clear:
[Retrieve a Tooth – Minimum 2 Meters Long]
Translation? Kill whatever beast had such dental real estate.
After a week of relentless searching and cave-diving, they'd started losing hope. Ryan was mentally done. Only sheer willpower kept him upright.
But that growl changed everything.
It was deep.
It was massive.
And it was close.
"Let's make this count," Denzel said.
Ryan smirked. "Let's bag us a boss."
And with that, they vanished into the icy cavern, unaware that the events set in motion elsewhere were about to collide with their story…
End of Chapter 22