Ascending the tower with my SSS class

At last, his concentration had broken. Elijah couldn’t understand it: this man was wounded to an extreme degree, yet he still fought with such tenacity. It seemed to him like a cornered animal.

In the end, he understood. Masson and he were the hunters, but their prey was cunning and insidious. They had been deceived from the very beginning, and because of that, one of them was now dead.

Uriel raised his arm with force. He wanted to strike the one area Elijah had left unprotected: his head. But even with his chest shattered and wounded, Elijah stepped aside quickly, raising his flaming sword. His counterattack came like lightning.

Fortunately, the same distance Elijah had needed to evade Uriel’s first attack was also what saved Uriel at that moment. His right eye was cut by the blazing sword, but he didn’t care. Far beyond the pain, there wasn’t even an eye left to worry about.

Uriel’s left fist came much faster and more unexpectedly than any of the mace blows Elijah had grown accustomed to, catching him off guard. The punch landed with force exactly on the same spot where his chest had been struck before.

Pain surged through Elijah’s body like an electric current. His enemy punished each of his mistakes with precision, while he himself was incapable of doing more than landing minor blows that didn’t even seem to matter.

But Elijah knew it: his opponent didn’t have much time left. He had been poisoned by Masson’s dagger; slowly but surely, he would succumb to sleep, and in that moment, victory would be his.

Yet within Elijah, a feeling of defeat arose. At the end of the day, if that happened, it meant that without Masson there, he would have lost. He would have been surpassed by a complete nobody. That was something he could not bear. If he lost to Viviane or any of the academy’s best, so be it—but he had not trained his sword so relentlessly to lose to a nobody, especially someone so similar to that person.

In Uriel, he saw the same attitude as one of the members of Soliel’s paladins.

The only reason he had trained so hard was to defeat that man, to overcome the humiliation he suffered the day he arrived at the combat academy. He could endure many things, but being defeated twice by damned brats who had barely come of age filled him with rage.

And here he was again, losing to someone who fought the same way.

He gripped his sword tightly once more. He would not stand still. He would not lose. He would not die here—not to someone like Uriel. People like him disgusted him.

Uriel struggled to remain standing. The sensation was strange and curious: how could one feel so much sleepiness and, at the same time, so much pain? Yet he did not stop. Throughout the entire fight, he had been at the limit of his wit and endurance. He had used every advantage his class gave him in terms of resilience, but even so, he could not endure this battle much longer.

"Uriel... Uriel..."

A voice echoed from deep within his mind.

"Uriel, you can do it. Get up. Don’t give up."

Was it Ininise’s voice? Uriel didn’t know. He couldn’t recognize it. To him, it sounded like his mother, like his sister, like the old man...

That’s right—even if he was tired, even if it hurt, even if he couldn’t go on, he had to keep moving forward. Because if he collapsed, everything behind him would collapse as well. Others might afford to fail at this moment, might give up and say they had tried everything—but not Uriel.

Once more, Uriel attacked Elijah. There were no more tricks, no clever plans left. He had tried everything, yet this man was still standing. Even with his chest and hand destroyed, that man did not yield—just like him.

However, there was still one thing Uriel could do.

They clashed again, pouring all their strength into one final attack.

Uriel raised his mace, and Elijah prepared to deliver the fatal cut. Both weapons sought the other, and for the first time in the entire fight, Uriel’s mace collided with Elijah’s sword.

Uriel’s arms suddenly felt lighter, as if something was missing.

"NOOOOO!"

Ininise’s scream was not heard in Uriel’s mind—it echoed throughout the entire house.

Elijah watched as Uriel’s eyes dimmed slowly, his strength fading as he fell, succumbing to Masson’s poison. It had finally happened: this stubborn and irritating rival could endure no more.

For a brief moment, he felt disappointed. In the end, he had won thanks to help—but what else could he have done? This wasn’t real life; it was the Tower. This wasn’t a training match—here, if you didn’t win, you died.

Uriel’s body fell forward under the weight of his own drowsiness. Elijah would grant him no respite—at that moment, his opponent would die.

Hurried footsteps sounded behind him. Ah... yes, it must be that beautiful girl. Once he dealt with this man, he would take it out on her.

The footsteps, however, halted repeatedly. It didn’t matter; she was probably in shock, watching her companion about to be killed. It had happened thousands of times—these wouldn’t be the first people he killed, and likely not the last.

Elijah raised his sword, a motion meant to end his opponent, to split his body in two. Thanks to his ability, he was certain he would succeed: his body was far stronger than most of his class.

But at that moment, a faint sense that something was wrong struck him.

It was already too late.

Suddenly, Uriel’s left eye flickered with terrifying clarity. Elijah saw it for a brief moment. Their eyes—their souls—met in battle. Elijah realized: from beginning to end, this man had never stopped planning a way to defeat him.

But what could this man possibly do?

The sound of something hard striking wood echoed.

They were Uriel’s hands, still gripping the mace—even after being severed from his body.

That was reality. What the hell could a man who had just lost both hands possibly do? And yet Elijah pressed on, though the unease remained. He knew it—this was the gaze of someone who would never surrender.

And he hated it with all his soul.

His sword came down mercilessly. He was going to kill this man—but, to his frustration, Uriel was already too close, slipping between his arms. Now, even if he brought the sword down, he wouldn’t be able to cut anything.

Then something changed. Elijah saw his opponent’s face distort: lumps and thickened flesh warped his features into something terrifying, like one of those grotesque flesh monsters.

He shifted his grip, and his flaming sword sought to pierce Uriel’s right side, but Uriel blocked the strike with his arm—now ending in a stump where his hand had been. He couldn’t believe it. Had everything—every moment, even losing his hands—been for this instant?

Elijah needed to see his opponent’s eyes. What was this man thinking? He wanted to understand how someone could sacrifice so much, how he could be so wounded and still remain so determined to finish him.

When he saw his single eye, he found nothing but the same determination it had held since the beginning of the fight.

Madness. This man was insane. Elijah could not understand him, and he never would. No matter what he did, they were too different from one another.

Tentacles extended. This was Elijah’s end—deep down, he could feel it.

One tentacle burrowed deep into his chest, digging painfully with small mouths that emerged at its tip... he was being devoured.

And with his last breath, he opened his system—and there, he saw his final chance.

[Monster Soul (Zombie)]

[You have successfully combined the zombie soul with your ability]

At last, Elijah’s consciousness faded into the pain.

Uriel stood over the man named Elijah. His ability was still consuming parts of his face and body in small pieces. He felt a faint tingling in his hands, and when he looked at them, he saw how his recent wounds—even his hands—were healing, regrowing and closing. It was incredible.

After a while, Uriel finally stood up. His body felt heavy; at any moment, he would collapse into sleep and be unable to do anything. But there were still things he had to do.

He extended his newly regrown hand toward what remained of Elijah and touched his neck. There was no pulse—he was dead. Definitely dead. Uriel had defeated the most difficult opponent he had faced so far.

Uriel frantically searched for Ininise until he found her lying on the ground, face down. A bit of blood flowed from her mouth, but there was a smile on her face.

She was happy to see that Uriel had survived.

"Uriel, are you okay...? I’m so happy..."

More blood spilled from her mouth. The elbow strike she had received from Elijah had pierced her organs. A single blow from that man had felt like her stomach had been hammered.

Uriel ran desperately, but he could go no further and collapsed from the poison just a few meters before reaching her. Even so, though his legs no longer worked, he crawled slowly but determinedly toward her.

He wanted to tell her to forgive him for not protecting her, that somehow everything would be okay—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even speak.

But Ininise understood. She knew what Uriel was thinking.

"Don’t... worry... I’ll be fine... and you too... they’ll arrive soon..."

Uriel was devastated. He hated this. Even giving everything, he was watching the person he tried to save get hurt.

Her injuries had worsened when she ran toward him after his hands were cut off. It was his fault—all of it.

With his last strength, he reached out and placed his hand on Ininise’s face, as if he didn’t want her to disappear when he woke up. She placed her hand over his, and finally, both of them lost consciousness.

[Attention to all climbers: the human group led by climber Viviane is the first to leave the zone]

[Initiating sudden event]

[The blood moon rises]

...

...

Uriel heard nothing more.