The sword felt heavier in his hand as he panted. Sweat beaded down his forehead, and down his back, but sizzled when they neared the gory deep cuts on it.

Astor gripped the hilt tighter and swung again at the arachnid. The beast had the upper body of a woman covered in black scales, had three pairs of eyes, scaly hands and where her lower half was supposed to be, was the body of a giant spider.

It's hard shell was cracked at a few places, and it was missing a leg, but it didn't look any less threatening.

It was the 97th floor and the top of the Tower wasn't very far now. His mother could still live, could finally be resurrected if he could make it to the top.

Sword clashed against serrated legs and Astor was pushed back from the collision. The bodies of his companions lay strewn across the floor, while the skeletons of many more adventurers who came before formed a heap.

'If only... If only I was stronger,' Astor thought. 

"Skreeeee!"

Two serrated legs came at him and he ducked, then rolled forwards. He rose up, but poison came flying straight at him. Astor tore his shirt, threw it up against the incoming poison. The poison burnt through the cloth and he dodged to the side. Only a few droplets fell to the ground, the cloth having absorbed the brunt of the attack. 

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"Damn you demon!" Astor rolled to the side and behind the heap of skeletons as more poison was spat his way.

'If only, if only Priestess Amelia hadn't taken that attack for me against the Minotaur,' he regretted, 'If only I'd been more careful.'

The deaths of his companions was destined the moment they lost her. Climbing the top floors of the Tower without a healer was simply hoping for the unattainable. 

The bones sheltering him hissed and an acrid smell wafted up from them.

But Astor remained in place. Soon, the poison attacks stopped and he heard a scuttling sound drawing closer.

When it stopped he rolled to the side, perfectly anticipating it to attack with one of its legs first. It had run out of poison.

Astor parried the serrated legs that came his way and moved closer to the creature's body, until his face now only inches from the arachnid's half-human abdomen. Blood oozed from his back in rivulets, but the fury in his eyes didn't falter.

"Yeol."

And the blade of his sword melted, and then rose rotating like a tornado faster and faster. The arachnid shrieked. In a blink a torrent of fire was spouting out of the hilt and he drove it straight into the monster's abdomen.

The monster was burnt to a crisp and it fell apart, lifeless. A pair of smooth and gleaming metal doors then emerged from within the wall behind the monster. And as Astor pushed them open he dropped the now bladeless sword behind. 

His body was burning up from the inside and had grown weaker, the skin on his fingers now crinkled, and as he looked at his reflection on the door, his hair had turned white and his cheeks had sunk in.

A ragged breath escaped his lips, "Come on, just three more."