We screwed up, he thought as he stared at the corpse of his partner. Shit.

He cursed, once more, out loud as he looked at the shivering woman too scared to touch the body. I told him. I fucking told him, he stared at her scrappy white outfit. Bitch.

“Tanner, what are we going to do now?” she asked, like the idiot she was. His still-active [Appraisal] spelling: | Name: Cerise ‒ Class [Healer] ‒ LV. 20 | above her head. What was Rogan thinking getting a complete newbie to explore with them? Especially for a new Tower for which they didn’t have a map of the Red Floors? Oh right, he gnashed his teeth angrily, he wasn’t thinking with his head but with his dick. Idiot.

And now he was dead. Killed by a… an Elven looking creature of some kind. A weak Elven creature. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Now where was he going to find a strong patsy with too much brawn for there to be any brains left?

No, no. He shouldn’t think about that now. First, he had to get out of here. This place was too outlandish, too unfamiliar. It was almost like… No. He shook his head off those thoughts. It couldn’t be. He was being paranoid.

“Tanner?”

“Shut up. Rogan is too dead to listen to your prattle.”

First things first. He kneeled on the floor and began to loot the corpse. He had paid quite a bit for some of these armor parts to let them go to waste. It was unfortunate that since Rogan was a fellow human, he couldn’t loot his [Inventory], but he pushed the body on the side and ignoring the blood, grabbed the storage bag Rogan kept there. Tying the bag on his belt, he didn’t check how much coin was there, but there should have been quite some left. Rogan only made Orange rank two weeks ago, so he couldn’t have spent it all on women and booze.

He then looked at the newbie healer, who had gone pallid at his disregard for his partner’s body. Figures. A complete beginner who hadn’t stepped foot in a real Tower before. Thinks she is too good to loot. She would learn one day. But not today. And not with him. This is Rogan’s mess.

“We are leaving.” He ordered.

“But what about… him?” and she pointed at the body.

“He is dead. Now get moving. Or you can stay with him.”

She immediately got up at that. “I am coming! I am coming. Don’t leave me here.”

Ha. So much for liking Rogan.

The gates were just as intimidating as when they first entered. They looked heavy, all chiseled stone and engraved metal, but he should have enough strength to pull it open. If not, he has a few Strength potions in his [Inventory] he can use.

He got a good hold on it and pulled. Not a squeak of a sound. It didn’t budge. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he grabbed two strength potions from his [Inventory] and gulped them messily. As soon as he saw the notification confirming the effect of the potions, he steadied his feet on the ground, took hold and pulled again.

“Tanner?”

No! He tried again and again, with more force with more pull, but nothing. The strength potions should have been enough. He gulped down another potion, although he was going to face some nasty consequences later. His [STR] stat jumped at the level of a low Orange Rank Warrior. He grabbed the gate’s silver inlays and pulled with everything he had.

“Tanner, what are you doing? Why is the gate not opening?”

It didn’t budge. It didn’t budge at all.

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He collapsed on the floor, teeth hurting and hands shivering from what he had forced his muscles through.

“Why is the gate not opening?! Tanner!” Cerise screamed.

Oh, Sidmir… Oh, Lord Sidmir… Oh, dear fucking Lord! What was he thinking following Rogan into an unmapped Floor? What the Zovya had he been thinking?!

“Tanner! Answer me!”

He swallowed heavily.

“It doesn’t open.”

“I can see that. Why does it not open? Are you too weak to open it?”

This bitch. He can’t believe he is going to die with this bitch in here.

“No, you idiot. I am not weak. The gates just won’t open.”

“Why won’t they open? You are just a mage! Did you use enough strength potions?”

He looked at her, disbelieving. He had just swallowed down three. Had she not seen him? Anymore and he would overdose.

“You want me to take one more and vomit all over you?”

She pulled a face of disgust.

“Then why won’t it open? It can’t be locked! We are not locked in here!”

This ignorant little—

“It won’t open. We are not meant to leave.”

“That’s insane. How can we not be meant—?”

“Are you that stupid? Haven’t you figured out where we are by now?”

That irritating frown over her brow made her look uglier.

“So, where are we?”

“A secret room suddenly appearing in a random Floor, the large engraved gates, the empty hall with a throne?” her frown began to disappear into horrified realization. “Finally figured it out, huh?” he taunted.

“No!” she yelled. “You are insane and an idiot! You are just too weak! The doors will open! We just… We just… We don’t have the key! That’s right we need the key!”

“For a gate with no keyhole?” he hoped she didn’t become hysterical. Or maybe, she already had.

“This is not the Hall of Trials! It cannot be the Hall of Trials!” she yelled.

He allowed a bit of pity to trickle in. This girl, she just gained a class and got stuck in the Trial Hall of all places. What fucked up luck.

Soon, Cerise started to breathe deeply, tired of shouting.

“You are wrong.” she said. “You are wrong.”

He wished he was. Sidmir, how he wished.

She went to the gate and tried to pull it open herself.

He laughed bitterly.

“A LV. 36 Mage tripping on three medium strength potions couldn’t make it budge. You think you can open it alone, you, a newbie Healer?”

She kept trying despite his words. A few minutes later, minutes of groans and curses on her part, she sat down next to him.

“You are wrong.” she whispered.

“Any better theories?”

“The gates, the throne… those are just rumors.”

“Pretty accurate rumors now that we are seeing it ourselves.”

“There is a Trial. We haven’t seen any Trial.”

He motioned at Rogan’s body way on the other side of the hall. “Not only have we seen it, I think we failed it too.”

“But that was just some weird black elf!”

“I have no idea what that just was. But, it was no mere elf.”

“But it ran away! We injured it! If that was the Trial, it should have stayed and fought till the end!” she insisted, and she was not wrong. But he had had a bad feeling about this since he used [Appraisal] on that Elven creature. It was nameless, classless and had a very low level, a mere 14. But it had a Title. He had been an Explorer for over five years now. He had never met or seen someone with a Title. He had heard only Floor Guardians and Legendary Heroes had them. Something special by which the Gods recognized someone with power, someone with a [Destiny].

“I don’t think the Trial was about fighting,” he said.

“Then what was it about?”

It had tried to talk. It had raised its hands in surrender. It tried to dodge, not to attack.

Knees-up, his head sagged on his arms. Why had he panicked? Why hadn’t he stopped Rogan? Why had he goaded him on instead?

“I don’t know. It just wasn’t about fighting.”

If only he knew what the Title meant. If only he had put more effort into his [Translation] and [Language Proficiency] skills.

But the worry, the surprise when he had seen the results of [Appraisal]...

The Title had been in Divine script.

“Damn it.”