Elian didn't bleed red anymore.
At least, he was pretty sure he didn't. The ichor staining his cracked, god-tier armor was a shimmering, chaotic violet—the blood of the 99th floor's guardian.
Krrrr-zzzt.
His gauntlet, forged from the scales of a Void Dragon, ground against the massive obsidian doors.
"Fifty years," Elian rasped. His voice sounded like gravel grinding in a mixer. It was a voice that hadn't spoken to another human being in a decade.
Behind him lay a trail of carnage that stretched down ninety-nine floors. He had slain demon lords, outsmarted lich kings, and survived poisons that could melt steel. He was the Sword Saint. The Lonely Climber. The Myth.
And he was tired. So incredibly tired.
He pushed the doors open.
"Let's see it," he whispered, stepping into the final room. "Show me the throne. Show me the god I have to kill."
But there was no god. There was no throne of skulls.
The 100th floor was a white void. Pristine. Silent. Empty, save for a single, full-length mirror floating in the center of the nothingness.
Elian limped toward it. He saw his reflection—a withered husk of a man. His eyes were dead pools of mana; his skin was a roadmap of scars. He looked a hundred years old, though he had entered the tower at twenty.
He touched the cold glass. "Is this it? Is this the joke?"
SHAAAA-TTER!
The mirror exploded. The shards didn't fall; they dissolved into streams of blue digital light that swirled around him, forming a holographic window that burned his retinas.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
> CONGRATULATIONS!
> Player Elian has reached the 100th Floor.
> The Apex Spire is cleared.
Elian's knees gave out.
Thud.
His sword, 'World-Eater,' clattered to the floor. He fell forward, his forehead touching the cold white ground. Tears, hot and human, cut tracks through the grime on his face.
"I did it," he choked out, a laugh bubbling up that sounded more like a sob. "It's over. Give me my reward. Send me home. Let me sleep."
The System window flickered. The comforting blue light turned a harsh, warning red.
[CALCULATING REWARD...]
> Analysis: Player Elian.
> Time Taken: 50 Years.
> Party Members: 0 (All Deceased).
> Joy: 0.
> Social Stat: 0.
Elian froze. A cold dread, colder than the breath of an Ice Drake, settled in his gut. "What... what is this?"
[CONCLUSION REACHED]
> The Player has achieved Absolute Power, but the Player is empty.
> You rushed to the end. You sacrificed everything for efficiency.
> You missed the point.
[REWARD SELECTED: "PERSPECTIVE"]
"No," Elian whispered. He clawed at the light, panic rising in his chest. "No! I followed the rules! I killed everything! I won!"
[Initiating Reward Protocol: New Game Plus.]
[Retaining Memories... Success.]
[Retaining Trauma... Success.]
[Resetting Stats... Complete.]
"STOP!" Elian screamed, summoning his aura, but there was nothing left to summon. "I EARNED THIS REST!"
The light swallowed him whole.
"Hey! Watch it, kid!"
The smell hit Elian first.
It wasn't the metallic tang of ozone and monster guts. It was... roasted chestnuts? Horse manure? Unwashed bodies?
And the light. It wasn't the cold, magical luminescence of the dungeon. It was the warm, blinding burn of the sun.
Elian gasped, stumbling backward. He tripped over his own feet, landing hard on cobblestones.
Cobblestones?
He scrambled up, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He looked down at himself.
Gone was the Void Dragon armor. Gone was the World-Eater sword.
He was wearing a scratchy, beige burlap tunic. His arms were thin. His hands were smooth, unscarred, and calloused only by farm work, not by the hilt of a blade.
He looked up.
He was standing in the Starter Town square. It was bustling. Merchants were shouting, wagons were rolling, and adventurers were laughing.
And looming over the town, piercing the blue sky like a jagged spear, was the Apex Spire.
A semi-transparent blue box hovered over his head.
[Player: Elian]
[Level: 1]
[Class: None]
[Title: The Regressor (NEW!)]
Elian stood frozen in the middle of the street. A large, burly man bumped into his shoulder.
"Get out of the road, rat!" the man grunted. "Newbies. Always staring at the tower like they're gonna conquer it. Go home to your mama, kid."
Elian stared at the man. He knew that face. That was Merchant Grog. He died on Floor 4, eaten by a Goblin Champion, forty-eight years ago.
"You're alive," Elian whispered.
"Of course I'm alive, you lunatic!" Grog spat and walked away.
Elian looked at his hands again. Then he looked at the tower.
Fifty years.
Fifty years of hell. Fifty years of eating moss, of sleeping with one eye open, of watching his friends die one by one until he was the only one left. All to reach the top.
And they sent him back.
Elian covered his face with his hand. His shoulders started to shake.
"Heh..."
The shaking got worse.
"Hahahaha..."
He threw his head back and laughed. It was a loud, manic, terrifying sound that made the people nearby stop and back away. He laughed until his ribs hurt. He laughed because if he didn't, he would go insane.
"Perspective," Elian wheezed, wiping a tear from his youthful eye. "You want me to have perspective?"
The laughter died instantly.
Elian lowered his hand. His face was young, barely twenty years old. But his eyes... his eyes were ancient. They held the cold, calculated intensity of a predator who had stood at the top of the food chain.
He scanned the square.
In the corner, a shy girl with thick glasses was trying to sell mana potions. Nobody was buying them.
Luna, Elian thought. The future Flame Archmage. She died in the first timeline because she couldn't afford a spellbook.
He looked toward a dark, trash-filled alleyway.
And down there... hidden behind a loose brick... is the 'Ring of Swiftness'. An item that gives +20 Agility. Nobody finds it for another five years.
Elian cracked his knuckles. They didn't ache.
His body felt light, bursting with potential energy.
"Okay," Elian whispered to the System. "You want me to do it again?"
He turned and began to walk toward the alleyway.
"Fine. I'll play your game. But I'm not speedrunning this time."
A dark grin spread across his face.
"This time, I'm getting 100% completion. And I'm taking everything."