Conquering the Tower Even Regressors Couldn't-Chapter 89: Twenty-third Floor, The Ascending Path (2)

[Escort. Time remaining: 33 hours 52 minutes.]

The desert sand shimmered like gold under the blazing sun. Beneath that golden facade lay the bodies of scorpions, men, and the greatworm, spilling blood that soaked into the sand and left dark crimson stains scattered across the dunes.

The first ambush had ended.

As we arranged the fallen and gathered loot from the dead raiders, other mercenaries began to drift toward me—likely because of the role I had played during the skirmish.

I knew they weren’t just here to express gratitude; they wanted to befriend a powerful ally. That was just how life among mercenaries worked. It wasn’t anything to be bothered by.

“Man, you’ve got some serious skills, huh?”

“Haha... well...”

“Never seen anyone take down a greatworm in one shot before!”

“Come on, it’s obvious he’s a top-tier merc from the Northern Front. No way a low-quality like you would’ve crossed paths with someone like him!”

All I did was smile awkwardly, but that was enough for them to keep the conversation rolling among themselves. Typical mercenaries were quick to become friendly, especially with powerful strangers. I guessed those without the knack for ingratiation didn’t bother approaching me at all.

I remained silent as they questioned me where I was from when a different figure approached. It was a guard from the caravan master’s retinue.

“Mercenary, the caravan master would like to see you.”

His tone was surprisingly cordial, especially given his stern appearance. He hadn’t seemed particularly interested in me earlier, but strength commanded attention as always.

After politely excusing myself from the other mercenaries, I followed the guard. The caravan master greeted me with open arms.

“Ah! So here comes our top-tier mercenary!”

Even from afar, I had noticed his towering stature and well-built frame. Up close, I saw that his face, though imposing, carried none of the malice you would expect from a slave trader. He didn’t seem like the type, though appearances could always be deceiving.

For now, I decided to play along.

“You called for me, sir? What can I do for you?”

He chuckled warmly.

“Nothing in particular. I just thought we should have a chat. I mean, it’s rare to find a top-tier mercenary, especially one hiding among the low-rankers I hired to make up the numbers.”

His grin took on a sly edge as he studied me. It was clear that the tower had slotted me into the role of a low-tier mercenary, at least officially.

Turning to his guard, he asked, “Kulsen, what did you say his name was again?”

“He is Kwon Su-Hyeok, a low-tier mercenary from the Demia Palace.”

“Kwon Su-Hyeok? That name reeks of an alias,” The caravan master remarked as he grinned knowingly.

“If a top-tier mercenary like you sneaks in disguised as a low-tier one, you’re probably here for some... unofficial business, eh? Like smuggling?”

I let out a small, incredulous laugh, “Haha.”

Smuggling, really?

He managed to concoct his own story without even needing my input.

Then again, from his perspective, it wasn’t an unreasonable suspicion. Comet had mentioned that kingdoms on this planet strictly regulated mercenaries. That meant mercenaries who crossed borders had to register upon entry into a new region, and smuggling was apparently common among those looking to avoid taxes or government intervention.

Rather than correct his assumptions, I simply kept quiet. The caravan master smiled as if amused by his own deductions.

“Well, smuggling or not, I’m not here to pry. I mean, we’re running a slave trade here, so who are we to judge? But...”

He trailed off, gauging my reaction before continuing.

“Since I’m being paid a fixed rate to do this job, I can’t exactly offer you extra wages even after learning you’re a top-tier merc. You came in as a low-ranker, after all. I’m sure you understand.”

“That’s perfectly fine.”

“But! In mercenary work, you should get paid according to the effort you put in. I know it well since I’ve walked that path myself."

The caravan master turned his head subtly toward the slaves. They were dirty and exhausted, hopelessness etched into their expressions.

As I shifted my gaze away, his slimy voice trailed after me.

“Instead of extra payment, we could let you have your way with the slaves… A man? A woman? Or maybe something more exotic? Just say the word."

The moment those filthy words reached my ears, my face twisted into a scowl. For a split second, I wondered if I had let my emotions slip, but I let that worry go.

Why bother hiding how I feel?

The caravan master noticed the change in my demeanor, and his smile faltered as the air between us grew cold. His guards shot sharp, watchful glares my way, warning me.

“I have no interest in that. Just pay me the sum we agreed upon."

“Oh... Right. You’re a strict one, aren’t you? Well, if you change your mind, let me know."

I gave a small nod and turned away. Initially, I had wanted to observe the situation a bit longer. But after seeing these bastards for what they truly were, the urge to grab my axe surged within me.

I exhaled slowly and tried to stomach the anger bubbling inside me.

Over the crackling of the fire, I heard the caravan master grumbling.

“Damn it. They said there weren’t supposed to be any bandits in this area... Kulsen, did you figure out who they were?"

“We searched them down to their underwear, but we couldn’t identify their affiliation."

“And here I thought bribing the marquis of the border would guarantee us smooth passage. What a waste."

***

[Escort. Time remaining: 31 hours 14 minutes.]

Two hours after the first ambush, a second wave of attackers struck. Just like before, they arrived on massive scorpions, accompanied by a greatworm slithering through the sand.

Their numbers did increase, however, which did make the fight a little trickier, even though they weren’t particularly strong. That wasn’t the most problematic aspect, though. The real problem lay in the traps they had set along our path—quicksand pits and magical bombs.

After the vanguard triggered two traps, the caravan master ordered the lower-tier mercenaries to take the lead. Of course, they still kept me at the center of the formation. Whether out of concern or to protect their interests from future ambushes, I didn’t know.

“Thank you, Mr. Kwon Su-Hyeok."

“Huh? For what?"

Comet’s words interrupted my thoughts. I had responded reactively but realized why he had said that almost immediately. When the lower-tier mercenaries were forced to lead the formation, I had called Comet to walk beside me, sparing him from the danger at the front. He was likely grateful for that.

Sure enough, Comet confirmed my guess with a sheepish smile.

“If it weren’t because of you, I’d be stuck leading the charge. You saved me, Mr. Kwon Su-Hyeok."

“Ah, it’s no big deal. Honestly, it’s just more comfortable sticking close to someone I know."

“Haha…"

Comet scratched the back of his head, awkward but grateful. Then, his eyes lit up as if something had suddenly occurred to him. He glanced around cautiously before leaning in to whisper.

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“Have you heard the legend of the Dumie Desert?"

The Dumie Desert? What is he going on about all of a sudden?

His words caught me off guard, and I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. I seemed to recall Comet mentioning we were in the Dumie Desert.

Comet flashed a sly grin.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t heard of it. Even the locals don’t know the story well."

I considered asking him how he knew a tale unknown to the locals but decided to humor him for now.

“Really? Now I’m curious."

Comet scanned the surroundings again before lowering his voice to a near-whisper, “They say that after the goddess vanished, the trail of her last apostle, the Great Warrior, ends here."

“The last Great Warrior of the goddess?"

“Yes. Even when the priests lost their divine powers, he alone retained the goddess’s strength until the end. And they say he carried a sacred relic gifted by the goddess."

Now this could be something. I felt a flicker of excitement, wondering if I had potentially stumbled upon a hidden mission.

Noticing the change in my expression, Comet’s excitement grew.

“If the story is true, then somewhere in this desert lies the goddess’s last relic. If we can find it, the Church will reward us beyond measure."

“Interesting… But how do you know about this, Comet?"

Comet chuckled awkwardly.

“My grandfather told me the story. He once served as the great warrior’s guide."

The tale’s credibility plummeted instantly. It sounded like the kind of story a bored grandparent would invent to entertain their grandkids. Or maybe Comet had made it up himself, just to pass the time.

“Do you know where the relic is?"

“No, unfortunately. When I asked my grandfather, he just smiled and sang an old mercenary ballad from the west—The Sword That Never Returns."

“The song you started singing earlier?"

It was a popular song among mercenaries in the western regions. If Comet’s story was true, perhaps the song’s lyrics held some kind of clue.

“Yes. I memorized it when I was young, but it hasn’t been of much use, even after all my years working in this desert."

Comet laughed, and I caught a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. He didn’t seem to believe in the legend anymore and had likely just shared the story to entertain me.

“Can you sing it to me again?"

“Why not?"

Since there wasn’t much else to do, and I hadn’t heard the full song earlier, it seemed worth listening to. As an outsider, I could notice something others had missed.

Clearing his throat, Comet began to sing, “Across the Resin River, in the Dumie Desert, the mercenary’s sword sank beneath the sands... Ah—The Sword That Never Returns."

After just two lines, the others joined in, their voices blending with his. It seemed they too had grown bored and saw the song as a welcome distraction.

“His wife searches the desert under the night sky, but beneath the Milky Way, only green-tinged cold lingers… Ah—The Sword That Never Returns."

***

[Escort. Time remaining: 24 hours 45 minutes.]

Night fell after we fended off three more ambushes. The caravan halted in a small depression nestled among the dunes and set up camp. Everyone gathered around a large bonfire, huddling together to fend off the biting cold.

Initially, I wondered if lighting such a large fire was wise, but the cold here cut to the bone, even through my Ice Resistance.

Although the enemies could burrow underground, they wouldn’t dare approach the fire. Any attacker carrying a torch would be spotted instantly by the sentries, which was why they kept the fire burning bright and in the open.

I lay down on the sand just outside the light of the fire’s radius, gazing up at the vast, unfamiliar sky.

So many stars...

At first, I looked for familiar constellations, just as I would back at the rest area. Sadly, none of the stars’ alignments matched what I knew.

Surrounded by the stillness of the night, I began tracing lines between the brightest stars and let my imagination shape new constellations. A playful puppy, a sleek cat, and even a mighty dinosaur took form among the glittering stars in the sky.

“Aaagh!"

While naming my imaginary constellations, a sharp scream suddenly shattered the quiet night, coming from where the slaves were gathered.

I shot to my feet, instantly alert, but the others barely reacted. They were indifferent as if such sounds were routine.

Turning toward the commotion, I spotted a rough-looking female mercenary dragging a male slave by the scruff of his neck. The slave struggled, thrashing against her grip, but she brutally punched him, silencing his resistance.

Nearby, another mercenary was already dragging off an unconscious female slave, her limp body trailing behind him like discarded baggage.

Before I could move, a mercenary standing next to me gave me a knowing glance and spoke casually, “Why the hustle? Are you also interested?"

“What the hell are they doing?"

The mercenary gave a lazy shrug, appearing as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“The boss rented out the slaves. Looks like the fun’s starting now. It’s not really my thing, but the high-tier guys? Yeah, they pay a lot for this."

Hah... Yeah, they are disgusting.

Laughing bitterly, I felt somewhat regretful.

I had held back the first time I saw the caravan master assault a male slave, unsure of the culture on this floor.

I knew now, however, that the ambushes wouldn’t threaten me.

I could lead all thirty slaves on my own.

I should never have stayed silent. That was my mistake.

Rage boiled up from deep within me, a fire that burned hotter the longer I thought about it. These scum didn’t even see the slaves as people, and there was no way I could let them live any longer.

I gripped my axe, the familiar weight steadying me. Then, I took a step forward.

The mercenary beside me, still disinterested, muttered under his breath, “Just so you know, killing the slaves isn’t allowed."

“Don’t worry," I murmured back.

I kept the rest of my thoughts to myself. I wasn’t here to kill slaves. Just then, Comet returned, brushing sand from his hands as he walked up to me.

“Mr. Kwon Su-Hyeok, where are you going all of a sudden?"

I leaned close to him and lowered my voice to a whisper, “I’m going to kill every last one of those slave traders. If you don’t want to die, lie low and stay out of my way."