Capítulo 6: The Stupidity Of Ambitions
I watched as he paled. However, instead of falling to his feet in fear, a vein bulged from his forehead. It seemed more anger was hidden behind that gaze than surprise or fear, which was quite troubling.
I hoped to scare him into leaving me alone.
But that wouldn't work now.
"You fucking–"
He rushed forward, uncaring of how I wielded my sword. Kyle was either fearless or entirely insane, a choice in which I tilted towards the latter. But I didn't understand how someone raised on Earth could possess such a foreign drive.
Several gazes turned to face us, with many cheering us on.
"Go get that guy!"
A translator had been fixed within our souls, allowing us to understand and imitate basic languages.
"Fuck him up!"
I wasn't sure whom they were cheering for, but I predicted it wasn't for me. The crowd always cheered for the underdog, the protagonist. Well, judging by his appearance, Kyle did seem like somewhat of a protagonist.
That too, one from a certain wizarding world due to the scar.
But I didn't wish to get into a scuffle this early on. It seemed many agreed with me, as I did hear some words of discouragement. But Kyle ignored all voices, his gaze fixed on my neck. I felt my throat tingle.
Alas, I couldn't kill him.
Killing a fellow player before the initiation of the Tutorial was against the Administration's laws, and could result in a hefty penalty. I wasn't sure if I wanted to push it.
Of course, I couldn't let the little ant kill me, either.
"Arghhh!" He rushed forward, swinging his hands around like a madman. I turned to the side, avoiding a tackle before slipping my foot in the direction he was heading. His balance shattered, and Kyle landed face-first onto the ground, releasing a pained groan.
A few Orc Warriors laughed, while the Lizardmen hissed in pleasure.
A few Descenders were worried about the penalty, but they generally avoided the conflict, thinking too little of a tiny skirmish.
[A/N: Descenders are players originally born on a floor of the Desirer's Summit. After they are ready, they can attempt to challenge the tower.]
Descenders were prideful people.
Kyle arose, his eyes burning with killing intent. Although it was nothing but futile resistance, I was surprised by the thickness of the intent. It was as if Kyle was born to fight. Perhaps that's why he lost his life early on, and why I never heard of him during the first round.
He probably fought someone and got himself killed.
Kyle shot towards me, madness bursting from his gaze. He grabbed my collar before raising one of his legs, intending to shatter my testicles. He also pushed his head forward, attempting to headbutt me.
I–with a disinterested expression–slapped Kyle's face, imprinting a crimson mark on his cheek. Following that, I turned around and threw Kyle a few feet away, inciting a few cracks that may have been an indication of a serious injury.
But at least he hadn't died.
Thankfully, at that moment, a high-pitched noise burst across the hall, attracting the attention of all participants. Even Kyle broke away from his daze, his eyes glued to the origin of the voice. 'It's finally here.'
A djinn.
It was a tiny creature. I chuckled, realizing how deceiving appearances could be. Djinns were practically the 'helpers,' that assisted in the management of the Desirer's Summit. They were lackeys of the Administration.
Although they seemed cute at first glance, they were practically the incarnations of Hell itself. Some Guilds had labeled them "Bringers Of Trouble" as a nickname to acknowledge how annoying they were.
The djinn before us was rather tiny. It possessed a humanoid frame, but its body beneath the waist was divided into fragments and jumbled. The djinn possessed crimson skin, with a body akin to that of a Greek sculpture.
It had a heartwarming expression plastered on its face and a smile that seemed too cutesy.
'If it wasn't linked to the Administration, I would've slaughtered it right here,' I thought, suppressing the urge to spit on the creature's face.
"That's the djinn."
"I've heard djinns have power equivalent to a Ranker."
What kind of nonsense was this? It seemed a few people were uneducated of what being a 'Ranker' meant. Djinns were barely powerful enough to hold their own against a newbie… it was only their 'authority' that allowed them to borrow power from the Administration.
And the Administration's power couldn't be rivaled by any mortal.
They could even suppress Stars through sanctions and penalties… albeit not directly.
[Welcome, participants of the Tutorial!]
[For those who are unaware, this is the pathway to entering the Desirer's Summit, in which the desires of each and every one of you can be fulfilled, granted you manage to pierce the 100th Floor!]
Reactions to the djinn's words were divided.
"Let me go back home!"
"The 100th Floor can never be pierced through!"
"Wait, seriously? Any of my desires can be fulfilled?"
"This tower sounds cool!"
It was comical. People truly pursued the 'end' of the tower for the possibility of being granted a 'wish.' But by the time they reached the 10th or 20th floor, such a comical dream vanished into nothingness.
By then, all they pursued was a comfortable life.
And those with a bit more ambition pursued reign over all mortals. They created Guilds, recruiting talents with the same ambition and growing their forces. But even they weren't able to reach the 'end.'
Let alone the 'end,' they weren't even able to shatter the "Floor Of Balance," the 90th Floor that divided the mortals and the Stars.
'Reach the end, they say…'
'They don't know how stupid their ambition is.'
I'd long given up on the possibility of reaching the summit. Almost all players had. Those who still held hope were considered crazy.
Perhaps their label would shift to "revolutionaries" if they were able to make a difference… but for now, "crazy" was more accurate.
That was the Desirer's Summit.
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder