System: Daily login!!, jackpot on the first day!!!-Chapter 413 - "Protagonis"

- Floor 50.

The wind was still.

Not silent, but heavy, as if mourning what had transpired.

All across the open field, the remains of battle sprawled like a desecrated painting. Monster corpses, twisted, grotesque things were scattered across the blood-soaked earth. Limbs crushed. Skulls split. Guts and ichor flowed into trenches carved by brute force and sheer desperation.

Blood had formed a river.

And at its source. Amidst it all... Sat a lone figure.

Atop the corpse of a gigantic beast, easily the size of a fortress, he rested, one leg propped up, arms draped loosely over his knee. His katana was buried in the monster’s heart, its hilt catching the sunlight like a beacon on a battlefield of ruin.

Taufik.

His expression was unreadable. Not proud. Not tired. Just... measured.

He exhaled once, calmly.

"...Floor 50," he said to no one in particular, eyes scanning the wreckage. "To clear this... a massive force is a must"

His voice echoed faintly in the dead air.

Then: "System"

[...Listening, Master]

"For floors 40 to 50, set a new requirement: humans must form a party. Minimum of fifty members"

[...Acknowledged. Applying update...]

[...Would you like to add any additional constraints?]

Taufik’s eyes lingered on the battlefield again. Mangled limbs. Crushed weapons.

"No"

He pulled his katana free. Blood gushed once more from the monster’s massive chest.

"If any humans manage to reach this far... their ability won’t be in question"

He turned from the ruined battlefield, katana resting lazily on his shoulder, and walked into the sun-drenched haze.

Behind him, the colossal corpse of the slain monster began to shimmer, breaking apart into glowing particles of data.

With a soft chime, a single item drop materialized, hovering briefly in the air like a jewel pulled from the wreckage of war.

"The party requirement is just a safeguard..." Taufik muttered as he approached the glowing portal ahead, its surface rippling like a calm mirror. "...a safeguard so no one dies stupidly"

[But Master, what if someone tries to clear it solo?]

He stopped mid-step.

Raised one hand.

The dropped items vanished, absorbed seamlessly into his inventory. A flick of his wrist, like brushing away dust.

"Hmm~" he mused, lips curling into a small smirk. "The probability of something like that happening isn’t small"

[Then... what shall we do, Master?]

He tilted his head back slightly, thoughtful.

Then, he sheathed his katana with a final, satisfying click.

"Just let it happen"

He turned slightly, one eye catching the fading field behind him.

"If someone dies, well... maybe they thought too highly of themselves. Playing protagonist when they’re not even a side character"

He took a few more steps forward, the portal now just within reach.

"But if they survive..." His voice dropped to a murmur, almost reverent. "...then maybe they really are the protagonist of this world. Who knows? So let it be"

A pause.

The portal pulsed with quiet energy, waiting.

[Understood, Master. So... what will you do now?]

Taufik exhaled slowly. His shoulders relaxed.

"For now... let’s go back"

He glanced upward, as if looking past the virtual sky.

"After a few days of rest, we’ll continue"

"One floor at a time"

[Yes, Master]

And with that, he stepped through the portal.

The battlefield behind him faded, silent, cleansed.

But the Tower continued.

Endlessly.

Waiting.

--------

As Taufik emerged outside the Infinite Tower, the sheer scale of the structure loomed behind him, an obsidian spire that pierced the sky, pulsing faintly with light from its still-locked upper floors.

Without missing a beat, he raised one hand and cast a silent, invisible spell over himself.

His presence flickered, cloaked from all detection, concealed even from the most advanced magical or technological scans.

He stood on a nearby overlook, watching.

From every continent, every corner of the world, people had come.

Adventurers. Mercenaries. Cultivated elites. Wannabe heroes. Some arrived solo, eyes filled with ambition. Others came in organized groups, armored and confident.

Banners waved. Camps buzzed with tension and dreams.

This was the new proving ground, the Infinite Tower, and for many, reaching it was the first step toward something greater.

Taufik remained unseen, arms crossed, gaze sharp.

"...System," he spoke without moving his lips. "Which floor has humanity managed to reach so far?"

[Currently, the highest is still the 2nd Floor, Master]

A small smirk tugged at his lips.

"That’s pretty fast"

He turned, casting a glance skyward toward the higher levels of the Tower, still sealed behind system locks.

"Okay then. Once someone conquers the 4th Floor, implement a rule: the next floor will only open after a one-week interval"

"And repeat that for every new floor afterward"

[Understood. Delayed unlock protocol will be applied starting from Floor 5]

"Good"

He took a final glance at the bustling crowd below. Some of these people would never return. Others would rise. A rare few... might even touch the Tower’s truths.

He turned, the wind catching the edge of his coat.

"Now," he said quietly, almost to himself, "let’s go home"

With a silent thought, he disappeared, teleporting away in a soft ripple of reality, leaving only the whisper of mana in the air.

The Tower stood tall behind him.

And humanity’s climb had only just begun.

--------

As Taufik arrived at the Saranjana Kingdom, a subtle pulse of mana brushed against his senses.

Familiar.

He paused, gaze drifting toward the distant castle rising proudly at the heart of the kingdom.

"...Huh?" he muttered, eyes narrowing slightly. "They’re here?"

Without another word, he lifted his hand and dispelled the invisibility spell cloaking him. A ripple passed through the air as his presence returned to the world, calm, steady, and unmistakable.

He began walking.

The path to the castle was lined with Saranjana’s elite, the lifeblood of the kingdom. A maid watering the garden paused mid-motion, then bowed quickly, flustered. A butler straightened with military precision, eyes lowered in reverence. Knights on patrol halted, striking their breastplates in salute.

Even a royal court magician, wrapped in arcane robes, whispered a respectful chant of acknowledgment as Taufik passed.

They all knew who he was.

The founder. The First King.

The one who raised this kingdom from a dream to reality. Well, he’s not; the one who created this kingdom was Gaia; he just claimed what he was giving.

Taufik gave each of them a simple nod.

Nothing more.

But that gesture, small, deliberate, regal was enough. More than enough. The message was clear: He sees them.

He continued forward, his pace unhurried yet purposeful.

Toward the training ground.

That presence he’d felt, it was there. Strong, radiant, unmistakably. The closer he got, the clearer it became.

And then he heard them.

Voices. Laughter.

A burst of kinetic energy flared in the air. Dust scattered. Mana crackled.

Taufik reached the edge of the coliseum-like grounds and looked inward.

There they were, his family, gathered in one place.

His mother watched with warmth.

His father, arms crossed, judging technique with the trained eyes of a soldier.

His grandmother, seated on a floating bench of carved wood and woven light, sipping tea.

His wives cheered and occasionally shouted advice... Mostly Rani.

His children, scattered around the perimeter, some watching in awe, others pretending not to care but clearly invested.

Even his cousin barked encouragement from the sidelines.

Taufik’s gaze settled on the center of the training ground.

Aksara.

His son.

Locked in a fast-paced sparring match against another figure, strong, swift, pushing Aksara harder than most dared. Sparks flew from every clash. Speed and skill danced in a blur.

Taufik slowed his step, folding his arms.

A quiet grin formed at the edge of his lips.

"What are they doing...?"

--------

- On the training ground.

The clash of mana had begun to stir the wind. Dust circled the arena, and the scent of ozone lingered in the air from earlier strikes.

Two figures stood at the center of the training ground.

Aksara, sweat on his brow, breathing steady, stood poised with his Ninjato glowing faintly.

Before him stood Rashid, calm, confident, surrounded by a dozen floating swords made of ice, orbiting him like silent guardians.

"...You’re getting stronger," Aksara said, his tone almost grudgingly respectful. "The time difference between our worlds... really wasn’t fair"

Rashid chuckled.

"Ahaha~ You’re no slouch yourself, my friend. Even in that short time, I can feel it, your aura, your technique... It’s nothing like before," His smile turned nostalgic. "Having Sir Taufik as your father... it really is a blessing. Honestly, it’s hard not to be jealous"

Aksara raised an eyebrow, subtly glancing toward the audience seats.

"...You sure you want to say that here?" Aksara said flatly. "Your father’s sitting right there"

Rashid blinked.

Then turned.

And saw his father, arms crossed, expression unreadable, eyes focused directly on him.

"..."

Rashid immediately sweated bullets.

"...Ah. Right. Uh..."

"You better prepare some excuse later," Aksara muttered, smirking. "Now, should we end this?"

"Yeah," Rashid said, snapping back into stance. "We should"

"Good." Aksara’s blade flared with prismatic energy, the ground beneath him cracking slightly. "Now show me your strongest move... Rashid!"

Rashid grinned.

"You sure you can handle it?"

Aksara didn’t answer.

He just smiled.

His Ninjato ignited, radiating with multicolored brilliance, like a piece of starlight torn from the heavens.

Rashid raised his hand.

The swords of ice converged, spinning faster, condensing into a single massive construct of frozen death, humming with compressed mana.

The air between them twisted.

Tension rose.

They both shouted...

"HAAAH!"

And then-

*SMACK!*

A sharp thwap resounded through the entire arena.

Aksara froze.

Eyes wide.

His father’s hand was still hovering where it had just smacked him on the back of the head.

"...Ow," Aksara muttered.

On the other side, the icy greatsword was caught mid-air, its momentum completely stopped, gripped effortlessly by one hand.

Taufik stood between them.

Unbothered.

Unamused.

He looked at Rashid with a mild expression.

"You’re lucky I stop him,, he said, glancing down at the ice-blade as it crumbled into harmless snowflakes.

Then he looked at Aksara.

"And you. Really? You were going to launch a full-power technique... here?"

Aksara shrank slightly. "I mean... It was controlled-"

*SMACK!*

Another light hit to the back of the head.

"Don’t ’controlled’ me. This is a training ground, not a battlefield"

Behind them, the entire audience had fallen dead silent.

Rashid chuckled nervously, bowing. "Sorry, Sir Taufik... I got carried away"

Taufik nodded, still firm, but his voice softened.

"You both did good. But know when to stop. Strength isn’t just about power. It’s about knowing when not to use it"

He turned around and began walking off, hands tucked behind his back.

"Cool down. Then let’s go eat. It’s been a few days since I’ve eaten something"

Aksara and Rashid looked at each other.

"...Guess the match ends in a draw," Rashid grinned.

Aksara sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

"Yeah. A painful draw"

....

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