A Necromancer's Guide to Clearing a Game Like Tower

Chapter 107: Chapter 107: The Smile Before The Light

Late.

The village had gone quiet hours ago, and the shrine was the only building still showing light. James and Finn stood in the shadow between two houses across the muddy lane, and neither of them spoke because there was nothing to say that the situation had not already said.

The man walking toward the shrine had been marked three days ago. James had watched it happen during the evening blessing — the Saintess pressing her palm flat against his chest, the brief glow under her fingers, the way the man had looked afterward like something had been taken and he had not noticed yet. Since then, he had been quieter than before. Ate less. Stopped responding when his wife spoke to him from the other side of a room.

Now he was walking toward the shrine in bare feet and sleeping clothes, and his eyes were open and his face was slack, and he did not shiver in the cold.

Finn shifted his weight forward.

James put a hand up.

Finn went still, jaw tight, but he waited.

The marked man reached the shrine steps and climbed them without slowing. At the top, he raised one hand and pressed his palm flat against the Succubus Cross worked into the door. The doors opened inward, smooth and silent, with no one standing behind them.

From inside, the Saintess’s voice came soft and warm through the gap.

She said his name like she had been expecting him all night.

The man walked in. The doors swung closed behind him.

James moved, and Finn moved with him.

They slipped through the gap before the doors met and pressed flat into the shadows along the wall. The shrine was different at night. The same candles burned along the walls but the light they gave was darker, more orange than gold, and the air was warm in the wrong way, sweet on top and something else underneath. The carved crosses on the walls caught more shadow than they gave back.

At the far end of the room, the Saintess stood before the altar with the marked man kneeling in front of her. She had changed out of her daytime white. The ceremonial clothes she wore now were the same color but cut differently, and the Succubus Cross at her throat caught the candlelight and held it.

James stayed against the wall and watched.

She placed one hand on top of the man’s head and spread her other hand near his chest without touching it, and the mark on him glowed. It was faint, the color of something between red and dark, and it pulsed once, twice, slow, matching no heartbeat James recognized. Then thin threads began rising from the man’s body. Not many. Not fast. Just a steady pull, like heat rising from pavement, drawing upward toward the statue behind the altar.

The man’s shoulders dropped a little. His head tilted forward slightly.

Finn’s hand found the haft of his axe.

James watched the statue. The same shape he had seen twice now, but this version was the furthest along — the wings fully carved, the horns exact, the cross at the base worked with the same clean lines as the one above the door. The threads from the marked man flowed into the stone at the base and disappeared.

He did not look away until the Saintess finished.

She lowered her hands. The threads stopped. The glow faded. The man remained on his knees with his head down and his breathing shallow.

The Saintess stepped around him and moved to the altar, and when she pressed both hands against the base of the statue, a seam appeared in the stone floor that James had not seen before. A section of the altar base shifted inward and then sideways, revealing a passage in the floor below.

The man rose without being told and followed her down into it without looking back.

James waited a count of thirty before crossing to the passage.

The steps were narrow and carved from the same stone as the walls. The walls of the passage were covered in Succubus Crosses, most of them old and worn smooth by the hands that had touched them over whatever years this floor had been running. A few were fresher, the carved lines still sharp, the stone around them stained dark.

The warmth from above followed them down. The sweet smell thickened the deeper they went, and underneath it, getting clearer with every step, was something that did not belong under a shrine. Sweat and close air and the particular staleness of a room where people had been kept for a long time without enough space.

And breathing. Not one person. Many.

Finn said nothing. He kept one hand on the wall and his eyes forward.

The passage opened into a chamber wider than the shrine above it.

The missing men were there.

Some were chained against the far wall with their wrists above their heads, heads down, not unconscious but not fully present either, the way a person looks when they have been somewhere for too long without sleep or food or any reason to look up. Some knelt on the stone floor with their hands flat on their thighs, eyes open, staring at nothing. Others were suspended inside structures of dark-red thread that hung from the ceiling and wrapped around their bodies from shoulder to knee, holding them upright without chains, the thread pulsing slowly with the same rhythm James had seen in the marks.

Every one of them carried the Succubus Cross somewhere on their body. Some on their necks. Some burned into their forearms. Some barely visible on the skin of their chests where the thread had worn the cloth away.

The newest man was being led to an empty space near the wall. The Saintess guided him by the shoulder without speaking, and he moved with her without resistance, and she settled him against the wall and turned away before the thread began rising to meet him.

Finn’s voice came barely above breath. ”We found them.”

James did not answer because he was watching the Saintess, not the men.

She moved through the chamber the way she moved through the village — unhurried, calm, touching a shoulder here, pressing a hand to a face there, drawing threads from each man in small steady amounts. She did not change expression when she drew from them. She did not look at them the way a person looks at a person. She looked at them the way a person looks at a resource and measures how much is left.

The chamber was her operation. Not a separate creature’s. Not something the shrine served. Hers.

The cross above the door called them. Her blessing marked them. The mark drew them back. The passage opened for her hands. The thread ran from them to the statue. The statue fed whatever the cross above the door was connected to, and the Saintess was the center of every step between the beginning and the end.

She was not adjacent to the cause. She was the cause.

James understood something else while he watched her work, and it came from the way the chamber felt rather than anything he could point to directly. Floor 14 was her face. The village, the disappearances, the investigation the System had handed them — all of it was the surface layer. Underneath was a thread that ran toward Floor 15, and the reports calling the next floor a Dark Knight were not wrong, but they were missing the part that made the information useful.

He did not say any of this. There was no reason to say it yet.

The System spoke before he could decide whether to move.

[FLOOR 14 — INVESTIGATION COMPLETE] [CAUSE IDENTIFIED] [FLOOR 15 — ACCESS UNLOCKED]

The white return light began gathering at the edges of his vision, faint at first, then building fast around his hands and boots and the walls where he stood.

He took one step toward the nearest chained man before he understood it would not work. The light was already thickening. He could feel the floor pulling him out the same way it had pulled him into the Waiting Room, the System enforcing the end of the mission the moment the objective condition was met.

The mission was investigation. He had investigated. The floor did not care what was still wrong in the chamber.

Finn had moved toward the passage opening and stopped, the same realization on his face, his axe hand empty and useless against a countdown that had no target.

The reward sequence came through anyway, cold and mechanical against the breathing of twelve drained men around them.

[FLOOR 14 CLEAR — BASE REWARD]

[TOWER CREDITS AWARDED: 3,000 TC PER CHALLENGER]

[PARTY EXP POOL: 18,000 EXP]

[DIVIDED BY 5 CHALLENGERS: 3,600 EXP EACH]

[CALCULATING CONTRIBUTION...]

[MVP: JAMES GANNER] [REASONING: CAUSE IDENTIFIED — SAINTESS / SUCCUBUS CROSS CONNECTION]

[MVP BONUS: 2,000 EXP]

[JAMES GANNER]

[CLASS: NECROMANCER (LEGENDARY)]

[LEVEL: 18]

[EXP: 10,285/13,000 → 15,885/13,000]

[LEVEL UP!]

[YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 19]

[ALL STATS +1]

[STRENGTH: 38 → 39]

[AGILITY: 43 → 44]

[INTELLIGENCE: 67 → 68]

[ENDURANCE: 42 → 43]

[LUCK: 30 → 31]

[HP: 860/860 → 880/880]

[MANA: 1,370/1,370 → 1,390/1,390] [EXP: 2,885/14,000]

[UNSPENT STAT POINTS: 5]

[TOWER CREDITS: 42,315 → 45,315 TC]

[EXIT COUNTDOWN: 60 SECONDS]

Across the chamber, the Saintess stopped.

She did not look toward the return light, or the walls, or the passage behind James. She turned and looked directly at him.

She had known where he was hiding. The whole time, from the moment he slipped through the shrine doors, she had known.

The calm on her face was the same calm she wore in the village square and the shrine above and every conversation he had watched her conduct without answering a single question straight. It had not changed. There was no surprise in it.

Then she smiled.

Not the soft thing she gave to grieving wives. Not the welcoming expression she put on for strangers. This was smaller and private and aware — the smile of something that had been waiting a long time and had just confirmed the waiting was almost finished. It told James she knew the floor had cleared. It told him she knew Floor 15 was open. It told him she would be there when he walked through.

The return light was full and white and pulling hard.

James held her eyes for the last seconds he had.

He thought about Floor 5. The statue behind frozen smoke and golden light. The cross at the base, the same cross above this door. The egg that had come out of it and was home right now growing faster than anything natural. On Floor 5, the moment he cleared the mission, he had felt something inside the Tower respond to him specifically, not to the team, not to any mechanic — to him. He had told himself afterward that it was the floor script, an NPC designed to seem aware.

The Saintess’s smile was the same thing.

The light took him.

Hale Estate resolved around them in silence.

The basement training room was dark except for the strip lights along the wall. The three temporary teammates were already gone, returned to wherever they had come in from, and the room was just James and Finn standing in the quiet with the smell of that underground chamber still on them.

Finn set his axe down on the nearest rack. He stood there for a moment with his back to James.

”Did you see her smile?” he said.

”Yes.”

Finn turned around. ”So it wasn’t only me.”

”No.”

They stood with that for a moment.

”The reports say Floor 15 is a Dark Knight,” Finn said.

”The reports aren’t wrong.” James opened his System window. ”They’re just missing something.”

[FLOOR 15 — UNLOCKED]

He closed it.

The Saintess’s smile stayed in his mind even with the window gone — that small, private, knowing expression on a face that had watched him find every piece of the investigation and had not tried to stop him because stopping him was not the point. The point was something that ran from Floor 14 into Floor 15, and she had let him see exactly as much of it as the Tower wanted him to see before he walked in.

Floor 14 had not ended because the danger was gone.

It had ended because he had learned enough to walk into the next one.