Trials were scattered all over the tower, similar in nature to dungeons but serving a different function. These trials placed climbers in various situations related to the titles they were given, offering valuable loot to those who could complete them. Some trials could be entered an unlimited number of times, some only once per person, and some would disappear upon being completed.

The Assassin's Trial, in particular, could only be attempted a single time per challenger. Upon completion, it provided the Identify skill and an uncommon weapon of the challenger’s choice. Despite these generous rewards, many people refused to enter it, even after its location became known in the last timeline.

The reason for this was simple: the trial placed the challenger in a city resembling those found on the first floor, then assigned them a target. The challenger then had to locate and kill their target without being told why the trial demanded the target's death. As far as anyone could tell, the world inside the trial was fictional, but that wasn't enough to overcome people's morals.

Nathan read the text that appeared before him once again

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Congratulations, Nathan Andrews.

You have entered the Assassin’s Trial.

Kill your target within 48 hours and stay unnoticed after their death for at least an hour to clear the Trial.

Your target is: Ria Aaltink, Prisoner.

Nathan didn't like killing people, but he had accepted the way the tower worked a long time ago. There was no time to muse about morality—this town likely had thousands of inhabitants, and he would have to find his target quickly.

He could hear the distant clatter of a horse-drawn cart, mixed with the humming of magi-tech and the conversation of a hundred different people.

Collecting information in the tower was an art of its own. Normally, Nathan might have found a tavern or inn that catered to the lower middle class. An environment where people gathered, lowered their inhibitions, and talked for hours was the perfect place for rumours to spread and grievances to be aired. However, he doubted that asking for a random citizen by name would get him far. At best, he might receive no answer; at worst, he could very well wake up naked in an alley, bereft of his belongings.

He adjusted his attire, the familiar weight of his leather jacket now feeling out of place in this setting, and stepped onto the road, the dampness of the night air clinging to his skin. The chill matched the cold resolve he was forcing himself to maintain.

For the next hour or so, he staked out the town, noting where guards patrolled, where the church was positioned, and where people tended to congregate. Now that he had the lay of the land, a plan formed in Nathan's mind. The church’s presence in the town was minimal—just a lone priest with a couple of helpers handling the only church.

His target being imprisoned was both a blessing and a curse—he didn’t need to spend time searching for a random citizen, but killing this woman while in the presence of guards and remaining unnoticed afterward would be a significant challenge.

For the next couple of hours, Nathan stayed near the church, making sure to appear as ordinary as possible.

He took a risk in swiping the coin purse of a passing merchant, though he knew anything he obtained in the trial would be lost once he left. Keeping this in mind, he spent his new credits without much thought, outfitting himself with new shoes and clothes more in line with what the average citizens wore.

Previously, he had still worn his leather jacket and boots from Earth, but in this trial, it was best to leave no impression of himself. While leaving the seamstress's shop, Nathan also palmed a needle used for keeping clothes in form. It was made of iron, not produced by machines, but smithed by hand and significantly longer and sharper—far more suitable as a weapon.

To complete his transformation, he sold off his spear, the familiar weight of it leaving him with a sense of loss, and bought a pair of hunting knives and a potion that would put someone to sleep and guarantee a restful night.

He had no qualms about getting rid of his equipment—his real body was still asleep in the clearing, and just as anything bought in the trial would disappear upon exit, anything lost here would not actually be gone in the real world.

Finally, as the market began to close, Nathan bought skewers from a street stand and sat down on a bench that allowed him to keep the church in view while he ate.

Barely an hour later, the streets were almost deserted, and he saw a man emerge from the church. The man was one of those who had worked alongside the priest earlier in the day, and by Nathan's count, the old man was now alone in the building.

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The man took out a heavy key and locked the church doors before setting off at a brisk pace, completely oblivious to his surroundings.

“Almost too easy,” Nathan muttered under his breath as he finished his meal, the last bite tasteless in his mouth, and started following the man.

Swift Footwork guaranteed that he never lost his mark, and even in the darkness, his high perception ensured his steps were sure and quiet. He moved like a shadow through the deserted streets, the only sound the soft rustle of his clothes against his skin. It took less than fifteen minutes for the man to arrive at his house, where he opened the door and entered without locking it.

“This fellow seems like he wants to get robbed. Guess that comes from being a man of the gods —too much faith in other people.”

Nathan spent two hours waiting outside the house, the darkness around him pressing in, making every creak and distant murmur feel like a threat.

He made sure his mark was asleep before quietly entering. The house smelled faintly of incense and old wood, the kind of scent that clings to places of worship. He found himself in a small room, sparsely decorated with the paraphernalia that true believers in the church always seemed to have in abundance.

He checked the neighbouring room, finding a kitchen, before creeping up the stairs to the second story.

Here, Nathan found himself in a narrow hallway, the floorboards creaking softly under his weight. He carefully pressed his ear to each door, straining to hear any sign of life. On the third door, he succeeded; shallow breathing came from within.

Nathan carefully opened the door, taking a few seconds to ensure the man hadn’t woken before entering. The room was dimly lit by a single magi-tech light, the soft glow flickering gently.

The man’s face was peaceful, slack with the deep sleep of someone who believed they were safe. It didn’t take long to locate the key—the man had simply placed it on a table next to the bed.

Holding his breath and moving as quietly as possible, Nathan stepped ever closer, halting just once when the man turned in his sleep. The soft rustle of fabric sounded deafening in the quiet room. Finally, Nathan reached for the key and left the room as silently as he had entered it.

He kept holding his breath until the door was closed. Not allowing himself to linger, he swiftly exited the house, ensuring no sign of his intrusion was left. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of how close he had come to being caught.

“I'm just not made for stealth like this, but I have to make sure there's nothing out of place by tomorrow morning,” he grumbled. The night air was cold against his skin as he stepped back onto the street, the city still wrapped in the quiet stillness of the early hours.

Not wanting to waste the remaining time of night, he swiftly set out back to the church, this time making the journey much faster. Nathan waited again, hidden in the shadows, knowing that guards would patrol past the building every hour.

The wait felt endless, the silence stretching on until his thoughts kept moving in endless circles.

Finally, he heard the familiar clank of armour and the low murmur of voices as the guards made their way down the street. A trio of bored guardsmen meandered past the church, locked in quiet conversation.

As soon as they were out of view, Nathan stepped forward, opening the door with the key and making sure to stay as quiet as possible.

He winced as the hinges let out a loud creak, the noise amplified by the still atmosphere. To Nathan, it sounded deafening; his heartbeat sped up, and nervous sweat clung to his hands. The darkness inside the church was absolute, broken only by the faint light of the moon filtering through the stained glass windows.

The colourful beams created eerie patterns on the stone floor, shifting as the wind blew outside. Nevertheless, he carried on, closing the doors once more and setting out in search of the wardrobe. Each step echoed in the cavernous space, and the shadows seemed to shift and move in the corners of his vision.

He seemed to have gotten lucky, as the old priest did not show himself while the minutes passed. Finally, Nathan located the wardrobe—a small closet full of priestly robes. Allowing himself a grin, Nathan picked one out at random, tying it into a small bundle.

He made it back to the doors and cracked them open, taking a peek to ensure no new patrol was on its way. The streets were still empty, the silence thick and heavy. Stepping back out onto the road, Nathan locked up the doors before bolting across the road, his task now finished.

Taking stock of the time, he realized it was much later than he had thought—morning was just around the corner, the sky beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn. The chill of the night was starting to fade, but a cold dread settled in Nathan's chest as he immediately made his way back to the house where he had obtained the key.

Once again, he let himself in, already ascending the stairs when he heard the sound of a door opening further up in the house. Fuck, he's awake.

Nathan stepped down the stairs again, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. He opted to simply leave the key on the kitchen table, hoping the man would assume he had forgotten it there.

He was just out the door when he heard heavy footfalls on the staircase, each step like a hammer blow to his nerves. Closing the door behind him, Nathan immediately started walking the streets, his stolen robes securely under one arm.

The first people began leaving their houses, populating the city once again as the sun rose over the horizon, casting long shadows across the cobblestones.

Nathan simply smiled as he entered an alleyway, the oppressive weight of the night's events still pressing down on him.

He donned the stolen robes, feeling their heavy fabric settle around his shoulders. He looked at his reflection in the surface of a dagger, the blade catching the first light of dawn. The green robes, adorned with gold, would have been too big for him normally, but with his regular clothes underneath, they fit just fine.

Adopting a placid expression, he started the next phase of his plan, his mind a whirl of thoughts and anticipation. The trial wasn’t over yet, but he could feel the end approaching, and with it, the rewards promised.