"What...?" he muttered, his eyes widening in surprise. He looked closely at the figure sprawling on the damp soil. Despite the dirt and the panicked, hesitant expression masking her features, her beauty was undeniable. She had long, disheveled hair, striking facial features, and a slender, lean body that could easily make any ordinary man lose his consciousness just by staring. But this was the Tower of Awakening. It was a brutal death game where survival was the only rule. He and Elian both knew that not everyone in this place was kind. In fact, they were certain there were far more evil people hiding in the shadows than good ones. Before making any rash decisions, he kept his newly acquired [Rusted Knight's Gauntlet] raised, maintaining his vigilance. They needed to ask questions to fulfill their curiosity and figure out the situation. "Hey, calm down," Elian said, taking a cautious half-step forward while keeping his spear lowered but ready. "Take a deep breath. Who is chasing

His boots pounded against the damp soil of the Ironwood Forest. Every breath felt like inhaling crushed glass. The thick white fog clung to his skin, chilling him to the bone. He pushed his exhausted legs harder, dodging thick, twisted roots that threatened to break his ankles. The realization hit him again, crashing down on his mind with the weight of a physical blow. This world was terrifying in a way he had never anticipated. When he first arrived, he thought the monsters were the ultimate threat. He thought surviving the Undead Warden meant he was beginning to understand the rules of this death game. But the truth was far more twisted. The beasts born of dark mana were predictable. The real nightmares were the human challengers wandering these endless floors. Elian dragged him by the shoulder, forcing him to keep a grueling pace. The young spearman kept looking over his shoulder, his eyes wide with a primal, instinctual panic. "Keep moving, Daniel! Do not even think about looki

They stood back-to-back in the damp dirt. The freezing wind carried the thick white mist, swirling it around their boots and obscuring the dark treeline. Elian kept his spear raised tight against his side. The young man scanned the dense fog, his eyes darting across the empty spaces between the massive ironwood trunks. He waited in silence, keeping his heavy right arm raised. He felt the cold iron of his new gauntlet chilling his skin. "These things are Ironwood Mist-Stalkers," Elian said. The young spearman kept his voice down to a harsh whisper. "I heard stories about them from the veteran scavengers back in the Hub-World slums. They are native only to the second floor. You will never find them outside of this specific forest. The name comes from their hunting ground, but their true terror lies in their passive skill." He listened intently. Knowledge meant survival in this death game. He kept his eyes locked on the gray void ahead. "What kind of skill?" he asked. "They use the t