Chapter 240: Return
It took him far less time to reach the bottom of the mountain than he expected.
A year ago, every descent had been a negotiation with gravity and pain, hands slipping on cold stone, calves screaming, lungs burning as if the air itself was thinner out here. Four hours just to make it to the forest line, and by the time he reached the first trees, he’d be so tired his bones felt hollow.
Now?
Now the slope felt like it had been built for him.
Kael moved with steady, strong footsteps, heavy in weight, yet stable like a mountain. He didn’t rush, but he also didn’t hesitate. Every step landed where it should, every shift of balance precise enough that even the loose gravel didn’t betray him. He could feel the difference in his body with every breath: the quiet tension in his legs, the strength sitting behind his hips like a coiled spring, the way his shoulders stayed level even on uneven ground.
Half the time.
He broke past the forest range while the sky was still holding onto its late colors, and when he lifted his head, the city of beginning sat in the horizon like a familiar bruise, lights starting to glow, walls cutting across the landscape, banners fluttering in the wind like they had never moved an inch since the last time he saw them.
Kael kept walking toward it.
By the time the sun dipped closer to the line of rooftops, he was already at the entrance.
The gates were alive in the way only a "safe" place could be, guards posted with bored eyes and sharp hands, people coming and going with measured steps, vendors lingering just outside the line of authority.
A few guards wearing a blue lion banner noticed him the moment he came into view.
Not because he was sneaking, Kael wasn’t trying to hide right now, but because he looked like the kind of man who had spent too long outside civilization. Dirt under the nails. Sweat dried into the fabric. Scratches and old scuffs across skin and cloth that didn’t belong to a fresh arrival.
One of them stepped forward, not aggressive, but not friendly either.
"Affiliation?" one of them asked.
Kael didn’t slow. He stopped just far enough to show respect without looking like he was asking permission to breathe.
"Solo." Kael replied.
The guard’s eyes flicked over him again, taking inventory. The size. The posture. The calm in his expression. The fact that he didn’t look like a tourist who wandered off a path, he looked like someone who had been surviving.
The guard glanced at his partner, and the second one gave a small shrug that read like not my problem.
"Go in, looks like you’ve been through a lot," the second said.
Kael nodded once, short, controlled, and passed through.
The moment he crossed the gate line, the city swallowed him.
The streets were wider than he remembered, or maybe he was just seeing them differently now. The air smelled less like dust and more like bodies, sweat, cooked food, smoke from torches, the faint metallic tang of currency and sharpened tools. Lantern light stretched across stone and painted faces in warm shades that made everyone look a little more alive than they probably were.
And that was when the worry finally decided to crawl back up his spine.
Kael had been away for a year.
A full year of disappearing into the mountain and staying there like a ghost story. A year of not showing his face in the streets where he’d almost gotten carved open by people who called themselves "clan" like it meant loyalty.
Iori.
The Sun Clan.
Back then, they’d chased him with the kind of persistence that didn’t come from pride alone. They’d wanted him dead, or owned, or broken, whatever shape revenge took for them. And Kael had been bleeding, coughing, stumbling through the city like a dying animal while trying not to get surrounded.
If they were still here...
Kael’s eyes stayed forward while his mind ran the map anyway. Old habits didn’t die. Not in the tower. Not ever.
’Nah, they can’t, been more than a year, they’re probably on higher floors, or dead by now,’ Kael sighed as he marched forward.
The sigh wasn’t relief. It was a forced exhale, a way to keep the thought from digging hooks into his ribs.
He didn’t let himself drift. He moved with purpose, even if the purpose was half a lie.
He only knew three places in the city. The bar he first drank in, the forge where he met Andre, and the newbie zone that took in new climbers. Everything else was a blur of streets and guild colors and a thousand people pretending the second floor wasn’t a cage.
Kael checked the coinage in his pocket as he walked.
Light. Too light.
A few cores clinked against each other, nothing like the satisfying weight of real security. Still, he didn’t need security tonight. He needed a drink. Something cold and bitter that could scrape the taste of mountain air out of his throat.
When he reached the bar, it looked exactly the same in the way things in the tower always did, unchanged, like the world paused while you bled elsewhere.
The doorframe suddenly felt smaller than it used to.
Kael angled his shoulders without thinking and stepped inside.
Warmth hit him immediately. Heat from bodies and lanterns and spilled alcohol. The smell of stale beer soaked into wood. The noise wasn’t loud, but it was constant, low talk, occasional laughter, cups landing on tables, someone arguing in the corner like it was tradition.
And behind the counter, the bartender looked up.
His eyes narrowed for half a second, then widened with that faint spark of recognition that didn’t need names.
The bartender smiled as he saw the man who could barely fit through the door.
There was an empty high chair next to the bar.
The bartender didn’t even need to invite Kael. He simply got there and sat.
The chair protested under him with a soft creak, but it didn’t break. Kael let his shoulders drop an inch, like even sitting was a luxury he hadn’t earned in a year.
"You’re back. It’s been a while," the Bartender said as he wiped and already clean glass more than it deserved.
Kael watched the glass for a moment. Same motion. Same habit. Same stubborn insistence that cleanliness meant control.
"Yeah, been through a lot."
The bartender’s gaze traveled up Kael’s frame again, slower this time, like he was measuring the difference.
"How high you climbed," the bartender asked.
Kael almost laughed. Instead, he breathed out through his nose, the closest thing to humor he allowed himself.
"Would you believe me if I told you, not a single floor?"
"I find it hard to believe..." the Bartender replied, "Seeing how you... look."
Kael glanced down at himself like he was seeing it for the first time. The stretch of fabric across his shoulders. The way his forearms sat thicker even relaxed. The subtle tightness in his movements from a body that wasn’t used to rooms anymore.
"Yeah, I only noticed when I got here, first time I could easily get through the door, and not feel like this chair is stabbing me in the ass."
The bartender’s mouth twitched, amused but not surprised.
"You’ve grown. Training?"
"Something like that." Kael replied.
He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to. Any more detail and it turned into questions. Any questions turned into attention. Attention turned into problems.
Kael hadn’t even ordered anything before the bartender handed him a mug of beer.
The glass was cold enough to fog his palm. The foam sat thick on top, the smell sharp and familiar. Kael took it like it was a weapon.
"I hope it’s not something too expensive this time."
"Don’t worry about it." the bartender smiled.
Kael took a first pull, long enough that the bitter taste settled into his tongue and reminded him he still had a body that needed stupid things like hydration and rest. The beer wasn’t magical. It didn’t heal. It didn’t fix anything.
But it was grounding.
He set the mug down carefully, then looked at the bartender.
"So, care to tell this straggler what happened last year?" Kael asked.
The bartender leaned slightly on the counter, still polishing that glass like it owed him money.
"Hmm, there were some news that spread after your... appearance."
Kael’s eyes sharpened at the pause.
"Yeah?"
"A few guilds were searching for you, then they simply stopped after knowing your relationship with the Fist King."
Kael let out a quiet breath, half disbelief, half irritation.
"Damn, news do travel fast."
"But," the bartender said, and the way he said it made Kael’s gut tighten a fraction, "they gave up not because of that," the bartender said.
Kael frowned, the lines appearing in his expression like they had always lived there.
"Then why?"
"Because you were supposed to be dead. Bleeding that much and all..."
Kael’s fingers tightened around the mug without realizing it. For a second, he could taste blood again. That copper flood. The burn in his lungs. The way every breath had felt borrowed.
"Ah... yeah, tough time..." Kael sighed.
He stared into the beer like it had answers. The surface rippled slightly from his breath.
A year ago, "dead" had been a reasonable assumption.
He didn’t correct it now. Letting people believe you were a corpse was sometimes the best armor you could wear.
The bartender watched him a moment, then shifted the conversation before it became something heavier.
"Are you leaving soon?"
Kael lifted the mug again, drank, then answered like it was the simplest question in the world.
"Once I go meet Andre, I’ll climb."
"Then you must know you need permission."
Kael paused mid-breath, mug half raised. The words didn’t fit his mental map of the tower. He lowered the mug slowly.
"Permission? To do what?" Kael asked.
The bartender’s expression turned into something more tired, like this was a lesson he’d explained too many times to too many people who thought the tower still worked like it used to.
"I personally know the Fist King, and he can be a hard ass sometimes." The Bartender sighed, "He never told you about guild permissions? And this floor?" the Bartender asked.
Kael took another drink, shorter this time, more thoughtful.
"Nothing really, all there was was... well training, a lot of it."
"I could see that."
The bartender’s gaze stayed on Kael’s posture, his shoulders, his hands. The signs were obvious to anyone who knew what to look for.
"But, this floor I basically ruled by guilds. They won’t allow anyone to simply go past it without being part of them, or pay tribute."
Kael’s jaw shifted slightly.
He’d always known guilds were parasites. He just hadn’t expected them to build a whole damn nest around the exit.
"Huh, holding a whole floor hostage... that’s cumbersome."
"Yes, they built a structure around the only exit of this floor, as long as you never left it, you cannot reach the third floor without going through there."
Kael stared at the beer again, thinking.
If the exit was controlled, then every solo climber either bent the knee, paid, or stayed trapped here forever. And if tribute was as bad as it sounded, then most people chose "safe" over "climb."
"I see. So I have to have guild permission, even if I’m not a guild member."
"Or tribute,"
Kael’s eyes lifted again, sharper.
"You said that before, what does that mean?"
"A large sum of cores, and believe me, no one can afford it, especially if they’re solo. On the second floor, as you must have guessed, there aren’t many monsters here..."
"Yeah, after a whole year, all I saw was... well, wild life."
"That’s why a lot of people give up, and remain here, where it’s safe, where it’s boring." The bartender continued wiping the glass.
Kael didn’t answer right away. The silence wasn’t awkward, it was calculating. He was weighing options, and none of them tasted good.
Join a guild? Become someone’s tool. Give them access to his back. Let them decide when he could move.
Pay tribute? With what cores? With what income? A year on the mountain had given him strength, not money.
Force his way through? Against guild-controlled choke points? Even he wasn’t stupid enough to pretend that would end well without preparation.
The bartender watched Kael think, then reached under the counter.
When his hand came back up, it held a square plaque, cleaner than anything else in the room, edges smooth, weighty in a way that made it feel official. A blue rose symbol sat in the center of it, the design sharp enough that it looked like it could cut you if you pressed too hard.
He slid it across the counter like it was nothing.
"What’s this?" Kael asked.
"A permission slip, you show this to the people who are blocking entry, and you’ll be allowed in."
Kael stared at it for a heartbeat too long.
Gifts in the tower were never free. Even kindness had teeth.
"Why are you helping me this much?" Kael asked.
The bartender didn’t flinch. Didn’t get defensive. He just tilted his head slightly like the question itself was expected.
"You don’t want it?"
Kael’s hand moved immediately, quick and decisive. He didn’t hesitate long enough for pride to get involved.
"Thanks, I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth."
"Good."
The bartender’s smile returned, smaller this time.
"Ah yes, before you start the climb, do you have a Vanitas Torch?" The bartender asked.
Kael blinked once, mind pulling up an old memory.
"A Vanitas torch? Yeah, I remembered someone selling them back at the information guild... I thought those looked worthless. Since not many were buying them, if any."
The bartender’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes suggested that Kael had just called a coffin "decorative."
"Well, I recommend you grab one. Or two, they might come in handy."
Kael’s fingers tapped once against the mug as he considered his nearly empty pocket.
"Any reason why I should spend the very few coins I have on a torch?" Kael asked.
The bartender smiled, and it wasn’t friendly. It was the kind of smile someone gave when they’d seen the punchline and you hadn’t.
"I can’t answer that, you’ll have to figure it out. But believe me, having one, is basically having an extra life."
Kael held his gaze for a moment, then gave a short nod. He didn’t like mysteries. But he liked dying even less.
"Sure, I’ll grab one if I can. I’ll head to Andre soon."
"Good, tell him I send my regards."
Kael finished the drink in two pulls, the last swallow bitter enough to sit in his throat. He set the mug down and reached for his pocket automatically.
Kael was about to pay the drink.
"It’s on the house."
Kael’s head lifted immediately, irritation flickering.
"Not again."
"I told you, you’re interesting, just keep doing what you’re doing. This tower needs the new waves. It’s been too stagnant." He smiled.
Kael didn’t respond with some grand thanks. He wasn’t built like that.
But he nodded, once, real, not dismissive.
Then he stood, the chair protesting again as it scraped the floor. The bar suddenly felt smaller with him upright, and a few eyes drifted his way in that subtle, predatory curiosity people had when they saw someone built like a problem.
Kael thanked the man and left the bar.
The air outside hit him colder than he expected after the warmth inside. The city lights had grown brighter, and the shadows between buildings had deepened. Somewhere nearby, laughter erupted, then died.
Kael tucked the blue rose plaque away like it was a knife and started walking.
Heading toward Andre.
