The system didn’t respond to Nathan’s question, and no more notifications lit up his life that was slowly turning grey.
He sat still, trying to reflect—desperately looking for another reason to feel a little better.
"Damn it, all because of pee and my sperm. I’m still useful here..."
He walked toward the Prunus Vitalis tree, the one that had once borne witness to the savage curiosity of that caramel mommy. He was about to sit down—but then something flashed through his mind.
"The Hunter Trade Center..." he thought, while his private blade hung limp, no longer stiff, because it was never warm skin that aroused him—only the thoughts inside his head.
"I’ll shop however I want today."
Nathan recalled that his Tower Points had piled up nicely.
For a moment, Nathan just stood there, unsure if buying things would fix the hollow ache in his chest. But at least... it was movement. It was doing something—anything.
"Even if this world’s fake, even if I’m fake... I still have numbers. I still have points," he muttered.
The silence around him was heavy, like a friend who wanted to help but didn’t know how.
Then the wind shifted—subtle, soft, almost suggestive.
It was the kind of breeze that made you want to do laundry and cry at the same time.
Nathan closed his eyes for a moment.
He took a deep breath, then raised his hand.
"Hunter Trade Center," he whispered.
A transparent panel appeared in front of him—cleaner and more professional this time.
No weird voices. No talking dolls.
Just a neat list of items, each with a price, description, and mostly anonymous user reviews.
He typed: ’Complete Hunter Outfit’
[Field Jacket Set + Tactical Pants + Climber Boots]
– Tear-resistant, odor-resistant, 4 hidden pockets
– Recommended for Hunters who are sick of looking primitive
Nathan glanced at his body, still wrapped in makeshift cloth from yesterday, reeking of soil and bad memories.
Without hesitation, he tapped Buy.
A light shimmered—then the outfit gently floated down and landed in front of him.
He changed under the Prunus tree without shame, then stared at his reflection in a small puddle near the roots.
"Not bad... almost like a normal human," he murmured.
He typed again: ’Special Hunter Carbon Armor’
[Carbon-Ether Vest – Class D+ Armor]
– Stab-resistant, lightweight, absorbs low-level magical energy
– Commonly worn by Hunters who aren’t confident in dodging
Nathan typed slowly. "Commonly worn by Hunters who aren’t confident in dodging"—that sounded exactly like him.
The armor appeared—light, matte black.
He put it on over his jacket—fit perfectly, like it was made for him.
Everything felt... too neat.
For the first time since entering the Tower, he felt like someone with actual choices.
But maybe that’s what made him suspicious.
"Nice clothes, comfy shoes, even badass armor... but it feels like a setup," he muttered.
A familiar tension crept into his neck.
It was the same feeling he got when someone complimented him too kindly—like being set up for a fall.
"Why is this so easy?" he asked the panel.
Of course, it didn’t answer.
He wanted to believe that the Tower was finally being nice.
But nice things, in his experience, always came before something trying to rip his limbs off.
Or worse—before someone tried to love him.
His thumb hovered, then typed:
"If you’re gonna mess with me," he whispered, "at least let me shoot back."
The panel returned several results—but one caught his eye:
[AR-T7 – Semi-Automatic Assault Rifle]
– .45 caliber, 12-round ether-stable magazine
– Usable only on floors that permit external-world technology
"looks good hmmm?" Nathan frowned, but his finger had already moved.
The gun materialized like the others—complete with sling and a spare ammo box.
Nathan lifted it, felt its weight, then took a long breath.
He looked up at the sky of Floor 100. It was already night.
"I’m gonna use my freedom to the fullest, hehehe...," he said.
"I wanna see... will violence erase this weird feeling or make it, worse?"
The system still didn’t answer.
The sky on Floor 100 remained dark, like a night that never ended.
But the faint blue glow from the trees at the northern edge marked that he had walked away from his place of reflection.
He glanced to his right and left without much thought.
The ground was soft, like wet moss. The smell of resin and old leaves filled the air.
Silence. No wind. No animal sounds.
But his mind began to whisper to itself.
"This is the forest that changes based on what’s in your head, right? So... just think of something simple first."
His hand gripped his new weapon, the AR-T7, and his shoulder still felt comfortable with the lightweight carbon-ether armor.
He imagined one monster: Blacksteel Boar—the first monster he had ever killed, back when he used a rock and panic to finish it off.
The branch ahead trembled.
The ground pulsed. The air warmed.
Then it appeared: a Blacksteel Boar, the size of a small horse, its snout glowing black metal with white cracks near its eyes.
But its expression... was too calm. Like it knew it had been summoned again just to become a nostalgia victim.
Nathan raised his weapon, finger on the trigger.
"If this bullet doesn’t work, then my freedom might not be as fun as I thought..."
A bullet fired. But the sound wasn’t a normal explosion—more like a spiral hiss slicing through the air.
The bullet hit the boar’s head.
The creature didn’t even have time to groan.
Its body exploded into a spray of black light, then vanished—like data forcibly deleted.
He lowered the rifle, breathing slower now.
That wasn’t just a kill. That was proof.
Proof that something from his world could overwrite this one, even for a moment.
Was it ethical? Probably not.
But was anything in this Tower real enough to deserve ethics?
He looked at his hands.
In fact, they felt steadier than they had in days.
"Maybe violence is just another language," he whispered.
"Maybe the Tower finally understands me."
But the forest ahead... had already started shifting again.
As if preparing its own reply.
The AR-T7 lit up briefly in his right hand—like it was absorbing something.
"...Okay. So this is actually useful for hunters. But only against weak creatures."
But the grin vanished as the trees ahead began to shift by themselves.
No wind. No cracking sounds.
Their shape changed. The leaves fused. The trunks formed... patterns.
"I wasn’t thinking of anything... but why does this forest feel like it’s alive on its own?"
Suddenly, the leaves on the right parted.
A Ferofang Lizard appeared—a mid-class monster with metal teeth and reflective skin.
But something was wrong.
Its neck looked like a caterpillar—with three eyes.
And its tail... was like a human hand, endlessly waving, as if slapping the air repeatedly.
His instincts didn’t scream in fear—
they whispered in disbelief.
That thing was a Ferofang, but it wasn’t.
Like a corrupted memory copied and pasted too many times.
Every movement felt off by half a second.
Its presence gave off static—like TV snow buried under insect wings.
Nathan blinked, and for a split second, its three eyes turned into his eyes.
"This Tower isn’t just reading my thoughts..."
"It’s remixing them."
And the air got thicker.
Nathan took one step back.
His AR-T7 raised automatically—but he knew it was pointless.
Ferofangs had tough skin. And this version... felt like a mash-up of memory, system, and a drunk architect’s illusion.
"For some reason..." he muttered, "that tail movement feels annoying."
The memory of his own limp dick flailing without stimulation felt like it had been projected into that poor lizard’s tail.
The lizard stared at him.
Nathan activated [Temporary Physical Enhancement], then leapt to a tree branch.
"I just wanna have fun. I don’t care about that stupid fucking lizard..."
But before Nathan could lower his weapon,
the air above him split with a sound—
Nathan slowly looked up.
"That pale..." his voice trailed off.
The creature above wasn’t just pale.
It was made of the same color that once glowed inside him.
Joy, sincerity, potential—ripped into wings.
Nathan didn’t feel fear.
He felt... recognized.
Like the thing above him had watched him longer than Velmora.
It flapped once more. Then the wind whispered his name—
not with sound, but with memory.
A voice echoed in his skull.
"Let me see your white water, Nathan."
She hovered like an angel who had forgotten how to fall. Her pale skin shimmered under the flickering Tower sky. Feathered wings stretched behind her—half sacred, half untamed storm. Her breasts were firm and proud, as if sculpted by a pervert god with too much emotional baggage. Eyes sharp. Posture unbothered. She didn’t belong—because she was real.
And then— his private blade slowly rose again.