Chapter 9 Preview - How I Became The World's Strongest Warrior Book 2!

I got to NatTheCat's shop at the crack of dawn, my expectations high and my pack fully stocked with supplies for the Tower. The door had a new sign: "CRITICAL ENCHANTMENT PHASE: KNOCK AT YOUR OWN RISK (WE MEAN IT)."

I knocked anyway.

The door creaked open, revealing Peter. He looked like he hadn't slept in days—hair wild, glasses askew, and what looked suspiciously like magical burn marks on his lab coat.

"Chuck! You're early," he said, stifling a yawn.

"You said morning," I reminded him. "It's morning."

"Right, right." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "About that... there's been a slight complication."

My heart sank. "The sword isn't ready."

"Not exactly." He stepped aside to let me in. "Better let NatTheCat explain."

The workshop looked like a magical hurricane had torn through it. Tools floated in midair, half-finished enchantments sparked across workbenches, and in the center of it all, my sword hovered in the containment field... but something was clearly wrong. 

The blade kept shifting between solid and translucent, its tri-elemental energies cycling in erratic patterns rather than their usual smooth sequence.

NatTheCat was perched on a workbench, mechanical tail twitching anxiously, ears flat against their head in what I'd come to recognize as extreme concentration.

"Dummy Slayer!" they called without looking away from my sword. "Perfect timing! We've hit a teensy little snag!"

"What kind of snag?" I asked, already calculating how I'd manage without my main weapon.

"Well, you see, the Star Resonance fragments integrated beautifully with the offensive matrix," Peter explained, gesturing to a complex diagram floating beside the containment field. "But then we discovered an elemental disparity between the fire and ice affinities."

"The sword is having an identity crisis!" NatTheCat added dramatically. "Fire wants to go WHOOSH! Ice wants to go FSSSHH! And they're not playing nice!"

I sighed. "When will it be ready?"

NatTheCat and Peter exchanged glances.

"Three days?" Peter offered.

"Maybe four!" NatTheCat countered.

"Possibly five," Peter admitted.

"If the quantum fluctuations stabilize!" NatTheCat's ears perked up hopefully.

I nodded, accepting the situation. "I can't wait. I'll use the backup weapons."

"For the Tower?" Peter looked alarmed. "Chuck, perhaps you should postpone. Without your primary weapon—"

"Not an option," I cut him off. "Dartanion needs that essence."

NatTheCat jumped down from the workbench and approached me, suddenly serious. "At least take this." They pressed a small object into my hand—a crystal pendant attached to a leather cord. "It's a triple-resonance focus. Won't replace your sword, but it'll boost your offhand strikes by 15%."

"Thanks," I said, slipping it around my neck. "I'll see you when I get back."

"Hopefully with all your limbs attached!" NatTheCat called after me as I headed for the door.

"That's not helping!" Peter hissed.

I left them arguing and headed straight for Mario's Teleportation Service. The bright green pipes stood out even from a distance, the "M" emblazoned sign glowing despite the early morning light.

Mario himself was sweeping the entrance when I arrived. "Ah! The Dummy Slayer returns! Where to today? Desert again? Forest? Slime caves?"

"The Tower Outpost," I said.

Mario stopped sweeping, his mustache drooping slightly. "The Tower? You sure about that, my friend? Very dangerous place. Many go in, few come out!"

"I'm sure."

He studied me for a moment, then shrugged. "Your coins, your choice! That'll be 750 copper. Tower tax included."

I paid and followed him to the largest pipe in the back of the shop. This one glowed with a purple aura rather than the usual green.

"Special pipe for special destinations!" Mario explained. "Hold on tight! Tower journey is a... bumpy!"

That was an understatement. The teleportation felt completely different from previous trips. Instead of the usual disorienting but quick journey, this one stretched on and on, twisting through what felt like several dimensional barriers. When I finally emerged, I had to fight the urge to vomit.

"First time through the Tower pipe, huh?"

I looked up to see what appeared to be a walking, talking mushroom with eyes and a wide, toothy grin. It—he?—wore a tiny vest with "GUIDE" emblazoned across it.

"Name's Frog," the mushroom said, extending a stubby appendage. "I know, I know, weird name for a mushroom, but my parents had a sense of humor."

I stared at the offered appendage before awkwardly shaking it. "Chuck."

"First time Tower climber? Got that deer-in-magical-lights look," Frog chuckled. "The outpost is that way." He pointed a stubby arm toward a collection of buildings nestled at the base of...

The Tower.

I'd seen illustrations in the guild records, but nothing prepared me for the real thing. It dominated the landscape, a colossal spire of dark stone that stretched upward into the mist, its peak completely hidden from view. The structure seemed to defy physics, too narrow at its base to support such staggering height. Architectural impossibilities continued throughout and sections appeared to float without support while others twisted in spirals that hurt my eyes to follow. Worse, the entire structure occasionally shifted slightly, like it was breathing.

"Impressive, ain't it?" Frog said, noticing my stare. "Been here fifteen years and still gives me the creeps."

"It's alive," I said, not a question but an observation.

"In a way," Frog agreed. "More like... aware. The Tower knows you're here. Probably sizing you up already."

I nodded and started walking toward the outpost. Frog hurried alongside me, his stubby legs working overtime to keep pace.

"So what's your deal?" he asked. "Most folks come in groups. Safety in numbers and all that."

"I work better alone," I said.

"Ah, one of those." Frog nodded sagely. "Well, don't say I didn't warn ya. Floors get nasty quick past the tourist zone."

The outpost turned out to be a small settlement built directly against the Tower's base. Various shops and services lined a circular plaza, with adventurers of all levels milling about, equipment being checked, supplies being purchased. A large board in the center displayed rankings, achievements, and warnings.

I approached what appeared to be the main administrative building, marked with the familiar Adventurer's Guild insignia. Inside, a harried-looking official sat behind a desk, processing paperwork for a group of eager low-level adventurers.

When my turn came, I stepped forward. "I need to register for the Tower."

The registrar looked up, eyebrows rising slightly as he took in my appearance. "Solo?" When I nodded, he sighed and pulled out a form. "Name and level?"

"XxPussySlayer420xX, Level 20."

The registrar snorted, then caught himself. "Sorry. We get a lot of... colorful names here. Purpose of climb?"

"I need something from the higher floors." I shrugged.

"Don't we all," he muttered, filling out the form. "Highest floor you're aiming for?"

I considered this. "Whatever floor has the Essence of Passage."

The registrar's pen froze mid-stroke. He looked up, eyes narrowed. "That's not a standard item. Where did you hear about it?"

"Ancient Spellbook of Winter."

He set down his pen and leaned back. "Listen, friend, I don't know what you've read, but items like that, if they exist at all, would be beyond floor fifty."

"Then that's where I'll go." I shrugged again.

The registrar laughed, a short, sharp sound. "No offense, but you won't make it past twenty at your level. No one has in decades."

I just stared at him.

"Right." He sighed and resumed filling out the form. "It's your funeral." He stamped the paper and handed me a small metal token with my registration number. "Keep this on you at all times. If you die in there, the system needs to know who to register for the seven-day lockout."

He then reached under his desk and produced an orb similar to the ones Clara had given me. "Standard issue Orb of Return. Use it if things get dicey." He lowered his voice, glancing around. "Word of advice? Don't get cocky in there. The Tower plays with your head the higher you go."

I pocketed the orb. "Anything else I should know?"

The registrar leaned forward. "The monsters inside drop Shards of Return. Collect ten, bring them to any crafter in the outpost, and they can make you another orb. Might be the difference between life and death."

"Thanks." I turned to leave, but he called after me.

"One more thing. Each boss drops a Charm of Ascension. You'll need it to access the next ten-floor section. They're bound to the adventurer who picks them up, so no buying your way past floors."

"What's the tenth floor boss called?" I asked.

"The Oculus of Madness," the registrar replied. "Nasty piece of work. Like a beholder but worse. No one's taken it down solo in at least five years."

I nodded and headed out, surveying the outpost once more before approaching the Tower's entrance proper. Various merchants called out, advertising their wares like specialized potions, enchanted ammunition, emergency teleportation scrolls. I ignored them, having already prepared as much as possible.

The Tower's entrance was a massive archway carved from the same dark stone as the rest of the structure. Runes flickered along its surface, occasionally forming patterns before dissolving back into chaotic arrangements. Above the arch, in script that somehow translated itself to be readable by anyone, were the words: "ENTER AND BE JUDGED."

A small group of adventurers stood nearby, checking their equipment one final time before heading in. They watched me approach, clearly assessing my gear.

"Solo run?" one of them asked, a dwarf with an elaborate braided beard and heavy armor.

I nodded.

"Brave," said another, a human mage. "Or stupid."

"Probably both," added a third, an elf archer. "First time?"

"Yes," I admitted.

They exchanged glances. "Word of advice," said the dwarf. "First floor inside ain't got no monsters. It's a hub. Vendors, crafters, healers… supply point, basically. After that, things get nasty fast."

"Thanks," I said.

The dwarf reached into his pack and pulled out a small flask. "Here. Tower Special. Won't find it outside. Gives you 10% damage resistance for an hour. First one's free." He winked.

I accepted the flask, nodding my thanks.

"Good luck in there," the mage said. "Hope you find what you're looking for."

I watched them enter first, then took a deep breath and stepped through the archway myself.

The sensation was... strange. Like passing through a thin membrane rather than a doorway. For a brief moment, I felt like the Tower was scanning me, assessing my capabilities, my strengths, my weaknesses. Then the feeling passed, and I was inside.

The first floor was exactly as described, a circular chamber about a hundred yards across, with various services arranged around the perimeter. Vendors selling supplies, healers offering their services, crafters working at portable forges or enchanting stations. The center of the chamber featured a massive staircase spiraling upward, disappearing into the ceiling.

What surprised me was how busy it was. Dozens of adventurers milled about, most in parties of four to six, checking equipment, buying supplies, or just resting before heading up to the monster floors. Some looked fresh and eager, clearly first-timers looking to grind the easy floors. Others were clearly veterans, their equipment marking them as regular Tower climbers.

I approached one of the vendors, a grim-looking woman selling potions. "What's valuable from the lower floors?" I asked.

She eyed me, clearly assessing my gear. "First ten floors? Chimera horns fetch a good price. Cockatrice feathers too, if you can get 'em without getting petrified. Gorgon scales, if you're brave enough to face one."

"And beyond that?" I asked. 

She scoffed. "Planning ahead, are we? Floors eleven through twenty drop higher-quality materials like dire wolf pelts, succubus essence, mimic cores. Worth a fortune if you can get 'em out alive." She leaned closer. "But between you and me? Most who go that high don't come back."

I thanked her and moved on, checking in with other vendors to get a sense of pricing and availability. Most were happy to chat, especially once they realized I was spending real copper on supplies.

After restocking on a few Tower-specific items like anti-petrification salve, poison neutralizers, and a special bandage that supposedly worked even under the Tower's reduced healing conditions, I approached the central staircase.

It was even more impressive up close. Each step was carved from a single piece of the dark stone, wide enough for ten people to walk abreast. The banister seemed to flow like liquid despite being solid stone, and the entire structure spiraled upward in a way that somehow always kept the next section visible despite the physics-defying architecture.

A pair of guards stood at the base of the stairs, checking registration tokens before allowing climbers to pass. When my turn came, I presented my token, which they scanned with a specialized device.

"Level 20, solo," one guard read aloud. The other raised an eyebrow.

"First ten floors should be manageable if you're careful," the first guard said. "Beyond that..." He trailed off.

"I'll be fine," I assured him.

"That's what they all say," the second guard muttered. "Just remember, if you die in there, you can't come back for a week. And you'll lose three levels."

I nodded, having already calculated that setback into my risk assessment. Three levels would be annoying but not catastrophic. The week-long lockout was more concerning, but unavoidable if things went badly.

"One more thing," the first guard added. "The Tower... changes. Layout shifts between visits. Monsters cycle. Don't rely on maps or previous experiences too much."

With that final warning, they stepped aside, allowing me to approach the staircase.

I took one last look around the busy first floor, mentally noting the locations of vendors I might need on future visits. Then I began to climb, the weight of the Vampiric Blade and Mana Infused Short Sword reassuring at my hips.

The stairs seemed to go on forever, spiraling upward through the darkness. Glowing runes provided minimal illumination, casting eerie shadows as I climbed. After what felt like hundreds of steps but was probably fewer, I reached a landing with another archway, this one emblazoned with the number "2" in glowing script. Beyond it, I could hear the distant sounds of creatures moving, the first monsters of the Tower awaiting my arrival.

I drew both weapons, settling into the dual-wielding stance I'd been practicing. Without my evolved sword, I was at a disadvantage, but still far stronger than most adventurers who attempted these floors. With a deep breath, I stepped through the archway and onto the second floor of the Tower of the Last God.

The hunt had begun.