Tower of Gods

9

Game 9: The Bait is Gone

Kim Lee-soo's lungs burned as the roots coiled tighter around his chest. He gasped like a fish dragged from water, thrashing in panic. His eyes bulged, his pale face slick with sweat.

"Han Tae-yang! Bro, help." His voice cracked, breaking into wheezes. The massive bamboo roots kept twisting, snapping his ribs one by one.

Han Tae-yang? Already turning his back, feet carrying him away through the chaos. His shadow stretched long on the ground, an image of someone who had decided survival came first.

Lee-soo's last hope crumbled.

From the side, Kong Jin-hoop stood with arms crossed, that oily smile on his lips. He watched Lee-soo's misery like a man enjoying free theater.

"Too bad,” Jin-hoop said, shrugging with mock sympathy. “If you have a complaint, file it with your lawyers.”

The roots slid higher, reaching Lee-soo's throat. His eyes bulged wider, tears spilling.

"No, wait, don't! I don't wanna"

Crunch.

The sound echoed through the clearing. His cry broke into silence as his neck bent at an impossible angle. The roots finished their work with brutal indifference, crushing him flat like garbage under a truck tire.

Han Tae-yang slowed for half a second, glancing back. His lips twitched.

"Goodbye, scum,” he muttered under his breath.

The bait was gone. Which meant only one thing.

Now the tree wanted him.

The roots pulled free from Lee-soo's corpse with a wet snap, wriggling in the air like starving snakes. They locked onto Tae-yang, their new target.

He let out a long sigh, opened his system screen with a flick of thought, and summoned his ace.

The blue system text blinked into view.

[Summon Clone: Input Keyword.]

Tae-yang licked his lips and whispered, “Come forth.”

The air shimmered beside him. A figure stepped out of his shadow, same height, same build, same scar on the jawline. A perfect twin.

Number 1. His first clone.

Dressed in the plain clothes and mask Tae-yang had slapped on him back at home, Number 1's eyes glowed faintly behind the mask. He moved with the exact same swagger, carried the same muscle memory. It was like watching a reflection step out of the mirror.

The roots twitched, analyzing both figures.

Two targets now.

Tae-yang narrowed his eyes, his body tilting forward into a fighter's stance. His mind worked like gears inside a clock.

Two roots shot forward, angled 22 degrees from the left. Another snapped at him from 35 degrees on the right. He saw them before they even reached midair.

"Easy. Like pie.”

His clone dashed opposite him at the same time. Their movements were mirrored, timed to perfection. Tae-yang spun low, his body brushing against the dirt floor, while Number 1 vaulted high, forcing the roots to overextend.

The two roots slammed together with violent force.

Crack!

The shockwave rattled the leaves.

The roots bounced back, uncontrolled, and smashed into the tree trunk itself. Bark exploded outward. Inside the gap, something faintly glowed, like a beating heart.

Tae-yang smirked.

"Hello, core,” he whispered.

The Duke Tree's life source, glowing faintly behind the bark. Just like the game.

His pulse quickened.

The trick wasn't brute force; it was precision. Angles. Redirection. This was math disguised as violence. He only had to keep playing physics teacher until the tree destroyed itself.

He picked up a brittle branch from the ground, twirling it like a baton. The wood creaked in his grip.

"Stop making this messy,” he told the towering monster. “Hand over your core already.”

No response. The ground shook instead.

More roots slithered up from below, grinding the earth into trenches.

The system's cold voice chimed.

[Warning: The Greedy Bamboo-Staff Tree has activated Blood-Sucking Vines.]

A dozen thin, black vines shot forward, faster than before.

Number 1 leapt in front of Tae-yang, intercepting. One vine pierced his chest clean through. His body froze, then melted into black smoke.

The shadow slipped back into Tae-yang's own outline, vanishing like ink into water.

Tae-yang clicked his tongue. “Tch. Stupid clone died on me already.”

He flexed his fingers tighter around the branch, rolling his shoulders. His mind screamed at him to panic, but he crushed the fear flat. Fear meant hesitation. Hesitation meant game over.

"Alright,” he muttered. “No reason to get scared now. I've done this before. Over and over. No excuses.”

The vines whipped toward him. He darted sideways, breath loud in his ears, and slammed his branch against the nearest root. The impact jolted his arm but deflected the strike away from his chest.

A sting burned across his cheek, a thin scratch where another vine had grazed him. Warm blood trickled down.

Close. Too close.

His body trembled, but his eyes stayed steady. His lips curled into a grin.

"Almost there.”

He dashed forward, weaving between roots like a street fighter dancing through an alley brawl. His heart pounded, each beat drumming into his skull. He could feel the heat from the glowing core.

One more step. Just one more.

A new sound broke the rhythm.

A high-pitched chorus.

Zzzzzzzzt.

The canopy above trembled.

From between the branches, bizarre butterflies spilled out in waves. Their wings shimmered with strange, glowing colors: violet, blue, and gold. They swirled above him like living glitter.

The air shifted, filled with a faint, sweet scent.

Tae-yang's pupils shrank.

Sleep powder.

He knew it instantly.

And then the world tilted.