A Necromancer's Guide to Clearing a Game Like Tower

Chapter 42: Chapter 42: Dock 7 I

James stepped out of the taxi at the edge of the Warehouse District.

The driver gave him a wary look but said nothing. He took the payment and drove off quickly, the taillights disappearing around a corner within seconds. James watched them vanish, then turned toward Dock 7.

The area was industrial and run-down. Old warehouses lined the waterfront, most of them abandoned or barely operational. Rusted shipping containers were stacked in uneven piles between buildings, some leaning at dangerous angles. The pavement was cracked and broken, weeds growing through every gap. A few dim streetlights flickered overhead, casting weak yellow light that barely penetrated the darkness.

The smell of saltwater and rust hung heavy in the air. In the distance, James could hear the sound of water lapping against the docks and the creak of old metal shifting in the wind.

Dock 7 itself was marked by a faded sign hanging crooked on a chain-link fence. The fence surrounded a large warehouse, three stories tall, made of corrugated metal that was heavily rusted. Several of the metal panels were missing or hanging loose, creating dark gaps in the walls. The windows on the upper floors were broken, empty openings that looked like dark eye sockets staring out at nothing.

The main entrance was a large rolling metal door, partially open. Dim light was visible inside, casting a faint glow on the cracked pavement outside.

James approached slowly. His footsteps echoed on the broken ground. He was wearing his combat gear now, the B-rank leather armor from Floor 5, but his weapons were stored in his inventory for the moment. His eyes scanned the area carefully, looking for any sign of ambush or trap.

Nothing. No movement in the shadows. No one watching from the upper windows. Just the warehouse and the entrance ahead.

As he got closer, he saw two men standing at the entrance, just outside the partially open door. They were both in their thirties, wearing casual clothes—jeans and jackets. Not combat gear, not Tower equipment. Just regular street clothes. They were talking to each other, one of them smoking a cigarette.

But James noticed the details. The smoker had a cheap mana-radio clipped to his belt, the kind low-level awakeners used. The bald one’s knuckles looked reinforced, slightly too thick for normal hands.

Awakeners. Low-level, probably Floor 1 or 2 at most, but awakeners.

Neither looked particularly threatening or on guard. They seemed relaxed, almost bored.

They noticed James approaching and stopped their conversation, watching him with mild curiosity.

James walked straight toward them. His face was cold and controlled, his mismatched eyes locked on the two men.

The two men watched him approach but neither moved to intercept or welcome him. When James was about ten feet away, he stopped and spoke directly.

”Is this Dock 7?”

The man on the left, the one smoking, nodded slowly. ”Yeah. Who’s asking?” His tone was casual, almost bored, like someone being asked for directions.

James’s mismatched eyes locked onto him. ”The person whose mother you took.”

Both men exchanged a look. The smoker’s expression shifted to confusion. The other guy, taller with a shaved head, actually laughed. ”Seems this guy is mad. Why would we take your mom?” His tone suggested he thought James was either crazy or at the wrong address.

The smoker took a drag from his cigarette and waved dismissively at James. ”Look man, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You got the wrong place. Go home.” He turned slightly, clearly done with the conversation.

James didn’t move. His hands remained at his sides but his body was tense. ”I’m not leaving.”

The bald guy sighed and stepped toward James. His expression was annoyed now, the kind of irritation someone shows when dealing with a persistent inconvenience. He walked right up to James, getting in his personal space, clearly trying to intimidate through size and proximity. He was taller than James by a few inches and broader across the shoulders.

The bald guy reached out and put his hand on James’s shoulder. It wasn’t quite a shove but it was definitely an unwelcome touch, possessive and condescending. He leaned in close and his breath smelled like beer.

”Listen kid, I don’t know if you can’t hear or something, but—”

The touch triggered something.

James saw his mother’s phone ringing unanswered. The destroyed house. The note threatening her. His father’s corpse in a wooden box seven years ago. Derek’s smug face. Uncle’s theft. Years of powerlessness.

Someone touching him like he was still that powerless kid.

He didn’t finish the sentence.

James’s hand moved to his inventory and his B-rank sword materialized instantly in his grip. In the same motion, he drove the blade forward and up, under the bald guy’s ribs, piercing straight through to the heart. The movement was fast, practiced, cold. No hesitation. No warning.

The bald guy’s eyes went wide with shock. His mouth opened but no sound came out except a wet gasp. He looked down at the sword buried in his chest, then back up at James’s face. His expression was pure disbelief, the look of someone who doesn’t understand what just happened or why.

What the fuck, his face seemed to say. What the actual fuck.

Then his legs gave out and he dropped. James pulled the sword free as the body fell and blood sprayed across the pavement. The corpse hit the ground with a heavy thud and lay still, dark blood pooling rapidly around it.

The smoker dropped his cigarette in shock. He stumbled backward, his hand fumbling for a radio clipped to his belt. He managed to grab it and brought it to his mouth, his voice shaking.

”There’s a weirdo out here! He just—he killed Martin! He fucking killed—”

A voice crackled through the radio, confused and annoyed. ”What the fuck are you saying, man? Is this a joke?”

The smoker didn’t get a chance to respond.

James was already moving. His sword came down in a horizontal slash, clean and efficient. The blade cut through the smoker’s neck before he could react. The head separated from the body and fell, hitting the pavement and rolling a few feet before coming to rest against a shipping container.

The body stood for a second, blood fountaining from the neck stump, then collapsed.

James sheathed his sword and grabbed the headless corpse by the jacket. He dragged it toward the warehouse entrance, positioning it right in front of the partially open door. Then he activated Corpse Explosion, targeting the body directly.

The explosion was massive in the confined space