A month passed on Floor 1, and in that span of days, silence became SeTa's anthem.
While the others scrambled to form alliances and join emerging guilds, while Administrators offered lectures and NPC quest-givers rallied recruits with promises of easy AP, SeTa did something else: he walked alone.
He explored dungeons hidden in cracks behind illusion walls. He solved riddle chambers that others ignored, uncovering micro-quests rich in obscure lore and complex trial mechanics. He memorized spawn patterns. He discovered a hidden algorithm behind low-level creature behaviors. More than once, he led an enemy into its own trap just by knowing where it would try to escape.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
Word of his quiet brilliance spread, and rumors took root. A young Climber with a thousand-yard stare. A lone strategist who cleared entire mini-dungeons solo. A ghost who refused to join any guild.
When a low-tier guild sent an emissary to scout him, they returned wide-eyed, reporting that SeTa had dismantled a complex trial trap by rewiring the construct's own core using Tower materials.
"No words," the scout had whispered. "Not one."
By the time the second Safe Zone meeting took place—where high-ranking Climbers gathered to discuss commerce licenses, power-sharing, and early expedition plans—SeTa's name wasn't just known. It was feared.
A neutral system announcement soon followed:
> [NEW TITLE EARNED: SOLOIST – For choosing complete independence and surviving a full Tower cycle without alliances. Passive Bonus: Reduced AP Cost for Personal Store Transactions. Reputation Modifier: +30 with NPC Mercenaries, -20 with Guild Recruiters.]
> [REPUTATION ESTABLISHED: The Silent Climber – Your presence invokes curiosity and unease. You are now being tracked by at least three developing factions. Some admire you. Some want answers. Some want you gone.]
But SeTa wasn't interested in politics.
He stood beneath the stone arches of the Safe Zone's main terminal as the system finalized his rewards for multiple dungeon completions. He had completed seven minor dungeons, two hidden trials, and one glitch-ridden realm pocket that had almost torn him apart. The experience points were irrelevant. The growth lay in understanding—of patterns, loopholes, and the Tower's rhythm.
Inception EX had grown with him. As if the skill responded not to levels, but to insight. SeTa had discovered how to manipulate object weight, not just gravity. He could strip inertia from projectiles or amplify velocity vectors. His mind was constantly unraveling possibilities.
Still, he said nothing.
Other Climbers continued building foundations on Floor 1. Merchant guilds formed the first small trade caravans. Quest circles evolved into localized factions. The Administrators, former Climbers themselves, warned that Floor 2 would be worse—deadlier terrain, deeper traps, and less room to adapt. Those who couldn't think would die. Those who hesitated would suffer.
So they waited. Trained. Grew bold in numbers.
But SeTa had waited long enough.
One morning, after thirty-two days on Floor 1, he stood at the gate.
A static blue vortex shimmered before him, labeled:
> [FLOOR 2 GATE – ENTER AT WILL – ONE-WAY ONLY UNTIL RETURN PERMISSION GRANTED]
Behind him, murmurs. A few traders paused in their delivery runs. Someone whispered, "Is that him?"
He didn't turn.
The title 'Soloist' hovered beside his name, visible to all.
He stepped forward.
No fanfare. No speech.
Just one Climber.
One thread of fate.
Into Floor 2.