Day 7.

Daewi sat around a roaring campfire, fiddling with the skewer of meat above it.

He then turned, and scratched another diagonal mark onto the smooth stone walls, making that a tally of twenty-five.

Crackle.

Crackle...

The fire sputtered and spit, leading No. 8 to place another portion of kindling in, as he eyed the charring skewer, taking it out the moment it finished cooking.

Riiiiiippp.

Daewi immediately teared into the still smoking flesh. He savored the tough, lean meat. It was mostly muscle.

Surprisingly, Goblins didn't taste too bad after he stripped off their skin, though there was a need to cook them for longer due to the high collagen content.

After consuming all the flesh, he gripped the ends of the natural skewer stick and slightly flexed.

Snap!

The femur cracked in his hands. Two halves, evenly split. Daewi briefly noted his improving efficiency, before retrieving a long, thin piece of stone by the camp, anchoring it against the rim of the broken bone. No. 8 quickly prepared to extract the raw bone marrow from within.

Scraping. Shifting. Scraping. Pouring. Scraping again.

It was slow, methodical work.

The man temporarily kept what he extracted inside a sanded down Goblin skull. It made for a good container, both for water and other liquids.

He wondered for a moment if he should roast the marrow too, but ultimately decided against the notion, and poured it straight down the hatch.

Today's schedule was already packed as is.

Bringing only his bone knife, a water tanker (particularly large skull), and a strange stone slate alongside him, Daewi smothered the flames with a rather singed Goblin pelt he had tried, and failed, to properly tan, plunging the site into complete darkness. No. 8 then left the encampment behind, venturing back down that shadowy corridor and into the deepest regions of the [Tower]'s first trial, trekking further without a single doubt in mind.

Dozens of meters pass.

Dozens of meters more.

Since he'd already cleared everything that could pose a danger, the trip was more akin to an empty midday stroll than some harrowing journey.

Along the road, his blinded eye began hurting, needling his head with pinpricks. It had been doing this for a while now.

Daewi put on Coeus' black eyepatch to block the phantom pains, which he somehow found nearby on the second day.

The corridor shrunk as he proceeded. It widened. It curved, and it slanted, and it split, and it converged.

He shuffled through the swamp-infested last portion of the corridor... and entered into a massive hall unlike any he'd seen before.

The Lobby.

Spacious would have been an understatement when describing the place. It was, simply put, unnaturally monolithic, as if the one in charge of constructing and designing this structure had never intended it for human use from the very beginning.

Yet even if it were a palace built for giants, the 'Lobby' seemed helpless in staving off the effects of time either.

Luminescent marble had long become crumbled and dust.

Pillars that once stretched to the sky, lay shattered on the ground, mere imprints of their former glory.

Dried fountains. Overgrown weeds. Rusted steel.

For some reason, Daewi felt this image looked even worse than the scene of stone and moss outside. But he wasn't about to pass up free encampment simply because it was visually unfortunate. No. 8 took a sharp right, pushing open a door almost quadruple his height, and right walked into his personal room.

"Better." He instantly breathed in the fresh, new air.

Partially cleaning this storage unit for the bulk of three days had been a good idea.

Daewi navigated his way through the collection of items and trinkets on the floor, left unattended due to a lack of necessity.

This room, contrasting the overblown, over-the-top nature of the hall outside, was pragmatic and undecorated. Just a decently sized area unadorned by leaves of solid silver, not gilded by gold, or uselessly platinum-coated, and so on so forth.

It was most likely used as a storage in the past.

Thus, the practicality suited his needs perfectly.

No. 8 waded past rows of Goblin parts, carefully picked apart and displayed, also bypassing the assortment of haphazardly strewn primitive weapons.

He forged a path to the back of the storage, collecting the bone chisel and hammer sitting directly in front of the wall.

A wall that had been repurposed into a sort of mural.

A detailed map of the Trial.

Daewi started from the beginning. A single line, winding and twisting, but still a single line. That was where he woke up, all the way until he reached 'Lobby'. It was here that things began getting complicated. That single line, now combined into the square that represented this place, suddenly fractured and split.

One line became twelve.

Each a winding maze in their own right, the straightforward path so far morphed drastically into a labyrinth of nonsensical arrangements.

Stairs ascending towards ceilings. Circular corridors that looped endlessly onto themselves.

And a great oak tree, growing underground, spewing a stream of clear water through its wounded trunk.

Mapping this section of the map had been troublesome, to say the least.

Daewi leisurely climbed upon his makeshift ladder of giant boxes, pulling out the stone slate and chisel, matching it with the final blank section of the wall map, and slowly commenced the 47th addition, chipping away dutifully.

Today he learned several interesting matters.

The Goblins, who have been steadily increasing in both strength and number, had apparently attained new abilities.

Archers with wooden bows. Warriors with stone clubs and spears. Defenders with rock shields.

And an old Goblin wearing a long robe that could summon small fires from nothing but a gnarled root staff.

Otherworldly magic!

No. 8 felt intrigued, so he quickly killed the lot of them and claimed the staff. However, of course, he was unable to use it at all.

Moreover, these stronger Goblins possessed a sense of teamwork and greater intellect. They even dropped something weird.

Gems. Blood red rubies that he harvested from their bodies when he categorized their parts.

Again, he didn't know how to use them, though the [message] did pop into his mind, revealing their importance.

[Ding! Elite Enemy: Lvl 10 Goblin Party slain! Gained Magic Stone x4! Achievement gained- profile- Error. Error. Error.]

No change on that issue, evidently.

Smoothing over the finishing touches, Daewi leaped down from his perch, landing deftly on his feet. Killing and defeating 25 Goblins of increasing difficulty had long washed away the grogginess that came from losing 'Mercy'. In fact, he actually felt his physique steadily improving as those [messages] kept popping up.

Though it was a sensation unrelated to gaining proficiency in a skill.

Or building up one's body.

No. 8 could only state it as a 'quantifiable increase', akin to stacking blocks on top of blocks, piling them into a tower. Mere addition.

Of course, this didn't mean he would slack off. Daewi had been performing his usual exercises on the sly. However, between planning his next actions, plotting the correct route, and dealing with those nonsensical pathways... it was rather tough to form a proper routine.

On the other hand, the traps weren't so much of an issue, being just as crude as they were invisible.

Since simply throwing Goblin parts could trigger most of them, they never really posed any trouble for him.

Daewi sat down, pressing his back against the wall opposite his North Map mural. The other walls also had writing on them, written with dark blue blood, which was what Goblins bled, apparently. These were loose records of his findings. Brief descriptions of sceneries. Lists of [Tower] entities he encountered, detailing their notable abilities. Some logs that recounted important events.

And a tiny box at the side to track the changes in his seemingly malfunctioning [system] thing.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The box had but one word: broken.

No. 8 took a gulp of fresh tree water as he analyzed the collage of information in front of him. Revision was always good.

Daewi then proceeded to stay in that position for three whole hours.

Nearly seven days' worth of information couldn't be so easily digested.

He systematically pieced together what he knew, what was written on the walls, and what he couldn't comprehend. Linking thoughts, memories, understanding and speculation, while simultaneously blending them into something new. The man pointed a blue-hued finger across the sprawling map.

And traced it till its end.

"Found you."

The straight path he sought had never disappeared. It had just been buried. Hidden.

A single road from start to finish.

No. 8 immediately packed his belongings, strapping various weapons onto his person. Knives, axes, and spears. He grabbed his stitched bag and headed out.

There was no need for hesitation. Although Daewi wished to explore this strange place further, the curiosity of what existed at the end of the line interested him more. The Goblins could grow. They could also speak in separate tongues, form bonds between individuals, and interact with each other within this tiny world.

He personally witnessed it while stalking their camps.

How they felt.

How they showcased emotions, so vivid and vibrant.

And how they even died reenacting a manner nearly exactly the same as humans. Ah. It was a pity they had to die.

For the first time in a long time, the 'Beast' looked almost excited.

Could he push higher? If the [Tower] was a structure that stretched into the very Heavens, then he must still be stuck on the Earth. Yet the matters and entities he had seen already intrigued him so! Thus, shouldn't those that reside inside the skies possess emotions that eclipsed these Goblins? Shouldn't they possess experiences unmatched by these lowly creatures who were trapped, confined, and slaughtered helplessly?

Wouldn't they have even more for him then?

Lost in thought, No. 8 wandered mechanically along the set road, eventually reaching the uncharted zone.

Darkness covered the corridor before him. No lights present, since he hand-crafted all the torches himself.

Daewi took a step forwards.

Whistling air. He hit the ground, ducking under the poisonous darts, before promptly rolling to the side.

Clang!

A steel blade's edge struck the floor where No. 8 initially stood, slashing deep into the rocks beneath. Another Goblin.1.5m tall.

Daewi quickly regained his balance, avoiding the wild swings it threw in his direction, as he slid out a blade of his own. Swing.

Clank!

Parry. Parry. Dodge. The onslaught was endless. Strike after strike, flung without grace nor technique, yet strong enough to kill. Overpowered, his hands shook as he braced his knife against the flurry of attacks. This particular creature was decidedly stronger than No. 8's current self.

He deflected its sword. And deflected again.

Acting passively, accumulating damage.

This Goblin wasn't very skilled, so there had been numerous opportunities for counters; however, Daewi simply let them slip by.

Because of the armor it wore.

Crudely torn, and outfitted to match the creature's smaller physique, the chainmail would protect its body from the brunt of his blows. Stabbing the abdomen or heart would be inadvisable. Slashing the stomach open? Improbable. Even targeting extremities was surprisingly tough due to its speed and ferocity.

No. 8 might manage slitting the Goblin's wrist, but he'd be at risk of being immediately cut down afterwards.

A terrible trade.

Daewi immediately fell back, throwing out his hidden dagger.

However, the enraged creature simply ignored the puny blade, shrugging off the blow, and charging in anyways.

The Goblin furiously slashed downwards.

Scrape.

Steel clashed against rock.

Another exchange. The Goblin's bright eyes flickered. Good. It thought. Exchanges were good. Goblin stronger. Human weak. And then, the creature suddenly realized something was wrong. Had their distance changed? A notion of danger formed inside the entity's mind, an echo of animalistic 'instinct', yet still too late to avoid the stone spear tip, stabbing directly into its eye socket.

"Krieeekkkk!" The Goblin screeched, flailing wildly.

Now panicked, Daewi easily redirected its sloppy strikes and pressed the advantage, spear flashing in his hands.

It wasn't his main weapon, or second choice, but No. 8 had long understood the fallacy of wielding a single blade.

Of choosing one over another. Of disregarding inherent weaknesses.

Those were the foolish ideals of reckless men, as if merely believing was enough. As if the enemy would give them the leeway they needed in a war.

That type of false confidence killed better than any gun.

He thrust forth, taking an unintended chunk from the armored Goblin's cheek. It had recovered faster than expected, and was glaring at him hatefully, right eye closed, bleeding dark blue blood. Unfortunate. That previous strike should've at least pierced part of its brain.

Daewi squinted his one eye thoughtfully, before making a decision.

Trading one stone spear for a steel sword and damaged chainmail?

Very well.

An intense burst of strength erupted from No. 8's hand at that moment, cracking the wooden shaft of his weapon, as the spear vibrated menacingly in the air.

It was a blatant, straightforward threat. And yet, instead of running, the creature roared, rushing him down relentlessly. It seemed all that pain and stimulation it suffered had snapped the Goblin's frail rationality, reducing it back into a state reminiscent of rabid dogs, hungry for blood. An animal, through and through.

Good for it.

But Daewi would make sure this entity died a human death.

Mirroring the echoing shot from a cannon, the stone spear left his grip like a lightning bolt.

Boom!

It then struck the armor head-on, deforming the linked metal chains protecting the Goblin's chest, and blasting it backwards. Direct contact.

No. 8 fluidly slipped out two more knives, before leaving to observe the situation.

"Chiek... kah... kiekk!"

The creature sounded as if it were on its last death throes. The armored Goblin sprawled motionless on the mossy floor; his spear handle lodged in its chest. A rather messy scene, considering the stone spearhead probably wasn't durable enough to withstand such opposing forces, and ended up shattering on impact.

Sticking rock shards into its organs like organic shrapnel.

Yet even so, Daewi applauded the Goblin's tough spirit.

As the one-eyed man approached, he immediately flung a dagger into the creature's wrist, brutally severing the tendons there.

And No. 8 saw it instantly flinch, writhing painfully upon the bloodied ground. It seemed the Goblin had planned a sneak attack.

He nodded approvingly...

Since he'd have also done the same if given its situation.

Daewi walked forwards, and casually planted his foot on the creature's injured chest, pushing hard as he retrieved the remnants of his spear. It was completely broken. Unusable. Splintered wood, vanished tip. Almost everything had been destroyed by the collision.

"K-kriek! Kah, kah!"

Although the shaft's latter half seemed fine at a glance, it too was unsalvageable, as the microfractures within would quickly render it useless.

No. 8 mentally wrote a reminder for a new spear.

"Ke... Kriek..."

Hearing the muffled groans, he abruptly looked back at the Goblin, who was spitting out egregious amounts of blue blood, while also attempting to bite through his ankle—which unfortunately, it no longer possessed the strength to even do so. At most, he felt a little tickle, as its teeth desperately ground against his skin.

Those ruptured organs really weren't doing it any favors.

"Hm?" Holding his knife above the creature's neck, Daewi prepared to land the killing blow, yet suddenly hesitated, hand already halfway through the motions.

An itch. Scratching, clawing.

Embers sparking his curiosity.

No. 8 rearranged the information inside his brain.

Right. Exactly. Wasn't there something... weird about this specific Goblin?

Not the presence of iron tools, nor its visibly unsuitable sword techniques.

But in the way it acted, standing before death's door, that was so different from the rest of its kind. Daewi didn't see fear when he stared into its eyes. This was not like the others, whom, in spite of their last-ditch bouts of savagery, still carried that familiar terror.

He couldn't see it at all here.

He could only see the burning hatred that fueled its every continued breath, even while dying.

For a moment, No. 8 remembered those Taskforce Operatives, thinking about the men and women who stood in his way. Delta Code 77.

The Goblin looked horribly similar to them, in the moments preceding their elimination.

"Wy, kriek... Wu... Kah!"

It shrieked at him. Warbled words spat past bloodied gurgles. Hm, wait a moment. Words? Daewi frowned. Why had he thought that? The creature was merely babbling a beastly language he did not understand. And if it did speak words, then they weren't the same words which he knew of. Unless...

No. 8 lowered his head, moving closer towards the dying, struggling thing.

"Wu... Ka... Whu.. Chiek..."

Hot tears streamed down its face.

Evocative, despondent cries, permeated by sorrow. Grieving. Scorched then by fury. Wrathful vengeance.

So familiar. Daewi soon realized the word the weeping Goblin sought the moment before it finally spoke it:

'Why.'

"Why."

"Why... Chiek... Why! Why!" Meaningless screeches became long, tormented screams. Asking, oh so agonizingly, yet not willing to accept an answer.

Because no answer anyone gave could ever quell the hatred it bore in its heart.

The creature's arm stretched out murderously, hands shaped into claws that could crumple flesh and split bone.

But No. 8 didn't move.

He did not even flinch.

He just stared silently, wondrously, at the crude, but carefully carved oak ring on the Goblin's dark blue finger.

Before staring at the matching pair on his own hand.

Oh. Revelation finally descended. The Goblin encampment. The strong, female warrior. He had taken this ring from her corpse because the [system] revealed a congratulatory [message]. He didn't know its use, or purpose, since what appeared inside his mind was still jumbled, with zero sign of improvement.

Nevertheless, at least now, he understood where it had come from.

"Haha. Hahaha!"

A peal of empty laughter snapped throughout the darkened corridor.

"How uneventful." Daewi chuckled, incredulous, "All of that, for a 'why'?"

"Why did I slaughter your... people. Why did I kill your... beloved. Are these questions that require an answer?"

Crimson blood rose from the earth, covering the sky, and blotting out the world.

"You've killed humans before, haven't you?" No. 8 gestured towards the chainmail, then the blade, "You even learned some clumsy swordplay."

"And I..." He pointed at his personal water tank.

"I even found their bones, buried under the same oak tree you carved that ring from."

"They worked much better than your tiny, brittle skulls, and these were rather recent."

The monster revealed itself, baring its jagged teeth.

"So what right have you to ask me why?"

"You kill without imagining being killed."

Such a farce. There was nothing here that could interest him further anymore. The hovering knife fell without fanfare, like an apathetic guillotine.

"It's hypocritical behavior." Daewi shook his head.

Stab.

"And I'm not too fond of hypocrites."

Slash.

[Ding! Miniboss: Mutated Goblin Swordsman slain! An unprecedented achievement! Rewards will be distributed once {Blank} is resolved.]

[Please continue in your endeavors. Happy Hunting, dear player.]

The armored Goblin's head rolled, unwillingly severed from its tattered torso.

No. 8 got to his feet.

He stripped the creature of any useful items, arming himself with the mail and sword, while equipping its ring on his other hand. Almost instantaneously, Daewi felt a strange sensation sweep over him. Newfound strength, suddenly coursing throughout his body, solidifying muscles and bones.

Yet this power also came with something else.

Bitterness. Resentment. No. 8 could hear it pounding in his head. Twin souls, screaming and cursing at him. Taking its toll on his mind.

"Brilliant." A soft mutter escaped his lips.

The 'Beast' seemed almost more excited by the consequence than the prize.

Regardless, this was no time for peaceful repose. Daewi's stamina had been exhausted by the fierce battle. He needed rest, especially before tackling what he assumed would be the hardest challenge yet, judging by the way his clammy skin prickled. Staring off into the distance, No. 8 could barely outline the shape of a gargantuan door. Although it wasn't as massive as the ones lining the 'Lobby'...

It was still large enough to give him pause.

Whatever entity existed behind that doorway, would absolutely not be an easy foe.

Daewi promptly decided he'd only enter when in perfect condition.

And as for recovery, of course, he definitely required sustenance.

Turning around, No. 8 reached deep into his Goblin-skin satchel, and pulled out a stack of firewood, alongside two pieces of flint.

The 'Beast' then dragged the corpse nearer. It solemnly clasped its hands together.

Holding them up to the sky.

"May you rest, dear creature."

"May your suffering be brief."

The image of sandy soil filled his vision. Chanting, chanting.

"So that you may be reborn, and come find me again..."

The smell of a rotting carcass. Briny sea. Starvation. Decay.

Chanting.

"I will absolve your vengeance."

"I will appease your wrath."

Eating.

"So please, come find me again."

"So that I might feast once more."

The short prayer ended as abruptly as it began, and Daewi raised his blade high.

"Jal mŏk gessŭm ni da."

Time for dinner.