A Necromancer's Guide to Clearing a Game Like Tower

Chapter 46: Chapter 46: Invalid Target

James placed his hand on Derek’s head.

Derek went still beneath him, his swollen face frozen in terror.

James said one word.

”Corpse Explosion.”

Nothing happened.

For one terrifying second, Derek waited for death.

Then the System notification appeared.

[INVALID TARGET] [TARGET IS NOT A CORPSE]

James stared at the message.

The words hit him harder than any punch Ronan had landed. Derek was alive. His mother was alive. He’d almost tried to detonate his own cousin while sitting on top of him.

The warehouse around him was full of dead awakeners, broken containers, smoke, blood, and destroyed wolves. Bodies scattered across the floor. Fire still burning in the corners. The smell of death and scorched metal thick in the air.

For the first time since entering Dock 7, the rage cracked and something else slipped in.

Horror.

Derek saw the hesitation. His voice came out broken and desperate.

”James. James, please. You were right to be angry, but I didn’t—I didn’t kidnap her. I swear on God, I didn’t kidnap Auntie.”

James slowly removed his hand from Derek’s head.

Derek kept talking, the words spilling out faster now.

”We’re family. We’re blood. I’ll pay for the house. I’ll fix everything. Nobody has to know what happened here. We can make this right. Please.”

James said nothing.

The silence scared Derek more than the violence had.

Derek kept begging for another minute, but James’s lack of response made fear turn into something else.

Anger.

Derek looked around at the bodies scattered across the warehouse floor. He saw Ronan’s corpse. He saw the destroyed wolves. He saw the blown entrance and the scorch marks from Corpse Explosion.

Then he looked back at James and his voice changed.

”You killed everyone,” Derek said. His voice shook, but the threat came out clearly. ”The police will know. The TRB will know. I’ll tell them everything. The whole country will hear how the Floor 5 record breaker butchered awakeners on Earth.”

James’s expression went cold.

Derek kept going, his confidence growing with each word.

”You think you’re untouchable because you cleared one floor? You’re finished. I have lawyers. I have family connections. I have money. Everyone will know what you did. You’ll never see the inside of a Tower again. They’ll lock you up for murder.”

The words confirmed what James already knew.

Derek had money, lawyers, family connections, and hatred. If he walked out of this warehouse alive, he would never stay silent. He would destroy James with everything he had.

James slowly stood up.

He looked at the corpses scattered around them and activated Summon Undead Skeleton.

Bones ripped free from three nearby bodies. The sound of snapping ribs and tearing flesh echoed through the warehouse. Green light burned in empty eye sockets as three skeleton warriors rose, their movements jerky but purposeful.

Derek’s threats died in his throat.

James looked down at him and gave one order.

”Kill him.”

The skeletons moved forward.

”Ahhhhh—AHHHHH—!”

The sound cut off.

James stood in the middle of the warehouse and breathed hard.

There was no victory. No relief. Just a problem.

Bodies everywhere. Blood pooling on the concrete. His destroyed wolves. Ronan’s corpse. Derek’s corpse. Scorch marks on the walls. Broken metal and shattered containers. Signs of illegal Challenger combat all over the scene.

Sirens were still distant, but they could come closer any moment.

James used the three skeletons to drag corpses into clusters around support beams, fuel drums, and stacked containers. The skeletons worked without complaint, their bone hands gripping bodies and pulling them into position.

When enough corpses were clustered, James started using Corpse Explosion.

Not randomly. Carefully.

One corpse detonated near the first support beam.

BOOM.

The beam cracked and buckled. Metal screamed—SCREEEECH—as the structure began to shift and groan under its own weight.

Another explosion near the fuel drums.

WHOOOOM.

Fire erupted and spread across spilled oil, flames racing along the floor and climbing up container stacks. Heat washed over James’s face.

Another near stacked containers.

CRASH. BANG. CRASH.

The containers toppled and slammed into each other, creating a domino effect that knocked down half the interior wall with a thunderous roar.

The warehouse started collapsing in sections. Concrete cracked with sharp SNAP sounds. Support beams twisted and fell with deafening crashes.

James dismissed the skeletons and moved toward a side exit. Behind him, metal groaned and concrete cracked. Fire spread faster now, consuming everything it touched.

He didn’t look back.

He ran into the night and the warehouse erupted behind him. Flames rose over Dock 7, lighting up the industrial district with orange light.

James moved through back streets and alleys, staying away from main roads.

His armor was damaged and blood-stained. His face was bruised from Ronan’s fight. His body hurt everywhere.

He found a dark alley and stripped off the most obvious pieces of gear, storing them in his ring. The worst of the blood came off his hands and face using water from a broken pipe. He changed into spare clothes from his storage—clean jeans and a hoodie that hid the bruising.

He kept expecting someone to shout behind him. He kept expecting police lights.

Eventually he reached a quieter road and flagged down a taxi. The driver looked at him suspiciously—late night, disheveled appearance, nervous energy—but took his money without asking questions.

The entire ride home was tense and silent. James watched reflections in the window and tried not to think about what he’d left behind at Dock 7.

James got home and locked the door behind him.

The silence of the house felt wrong after Dock 7. He stood in the entryway for a moment, listening.

Nothing. No enemies. No screams. No Derek.

Then he looked down at his hands.

There was still blood under his nails.

His breathing changed.

He went straight to the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. He scrubbed his hands first, then his arms, then his face. The water burned but he didn’t care. He scrubbed harder than necessary, watching pink water run down the drain.

He remembered Derek’s voice threatening to expose him. Ronan’s final look of approval. The skeletons rising from corpses. The System saying INVALID TARGET.

He didn’t cry, but his hands shook as he washed.

After the shower, he changed clothes and hid the damaged gear in the back of his closet. He cleaned what he could and forced himself to arrange the room like nothing had happened.

The Tower had clean endings. Missions completed, EXP gained, rewards distributed.

Earth didn’t work that way.

The TV in the living room was still on.

James walked past it and froze when he saw the red breaking news banner.

News anchors were reporting a massive explosion at Dock 7 in the Warehouse District. The screen showed aerial footage of flames and collapsed structures. Emergency services were on scene, but the fire was too intense for immediate entry.

”Early reports suggest illegal Challenger activity,” the anchor said. ”Multiple casualties are feared, though authorities have not confirmed exact numbers. Police are investigating possible gang-related violence involving awakeners.”

They didn’t name James. They didn’t mention Derek yet. The report said the warehouse was known to be abandoned and occasionally used for illicit activities.

James stood still, watching flames on the screen from the place he’d just left.

He listened for any mention of witnesses, cameras, survivors, or a suspect.

Nothing confirmed.

He exhaled slowly, but he couldn’t relax. The absence of evidence wasn’t safety. It was only time.

He turned the TV off.

The silence afterward was worse.

Twenty-four hours passed.

James barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the warehouse. The Dock 7 news was still circulating on every channel, but no public suspect had been named.

Then the Tower update finally completed.

Every Challenger received the announcement at the same time. The System notification filled James’s vision.

[TOWER FLOOR CALIBRATION COMPLETE] [TOWER RECONSTRUCTION: 300 FLOORS → 150 FLOORS]

[COUNTRY-SPECIFIC TOWER INSTANCES NOW ACTIVE] - Each country maintains separate Tower instance - National matchmaking for party formation

[NATIONAL RANKINGS UNLOCKED] - Challengers ranked by highest floor cleared - Clear speed tracked - Survival record maintained

[FLOOR CLASSIFICATION SYSTEM] - STANDARD FLOORS: Side missions supporting the main Tower narrative - STORY FLOORS: Main narrative floors containing destroyed worlds that must be saved

James dismissed the notifications and leaned back in his chair.

The Tower was moving forward. New systems, new structure, new rankings.

While he was still mentally stuck in Dock 7.

Three days later, the TRB released the first public briefing for Floor 6.

James sat alone in his room and opened the article on his phone. The headline read: ”FLOOR 6 BRIEFING: What Challengers Need to Know.”

The article explained that Floor 6 was classified as a Standard Floor, not a Story Floor. Mission type was listed as Subjugation. Recommended party size was five challengers. Threat level was rated as moderate.

Enemy types included goblins, harpies, and wolves.

The TRB emphasized that national matchmaking was now active and encouraged challengers to form registered parties for consistent team composition.

James scrolled through the rest of the article and closed it.

His phone buzzed with messages from the team group chat. Finn asking if everyone was ready. Kael confirming his schedule. Aria saying she’d finished her preparation. Elliot sending equipment updates.

They were preparing to enter Floor 6 together as an official party.

James looked at the word ”Subjugation” on the screen.

The Tower called it a mission.

Earth called it murder.

The difference felt thinner than it should.

He closed the briefing and started preparing to meet the team, knowing that whatever happened on Floor 6, he was already carrying blood on his hands that no shower could wash away.