"Five seconds," Elian had said.
He lied. It took four.
The four Iron Fists guild members charged, screaming to hide their fear. A spear thrust, a fireball, a dagger slash, and a mace swing.
Elian didn't retreat. He pivoted on his heel, using the sheer weight of The Executioner's Edge as a counter-balance. He swung the massive blade in a flat, horizontal arc.
CLANG-CRUNCH.
The blade collided with the spearman's shaft, shattering the wood instantly. The momentum carried the blade into the Paladin's shield, denting the steel like it was tin foil and sending the man flying into the mage.
Two down in one swing.
The rogue tried to flank him. Elian didn't even turn his head. He released the handle of his greatsword with one hand and backhanded the rogue with his armored gauntlet.
THWACK.
The rogue spun in the air and hit the dirt, unconscious.
Darius, the Vice-Captain, stood alone. His spear was shaking in his hands. He looked at his fallen team, then at the boy who was barely breaking a sweat.
"You..." Darius stammered. "You're a monster."
Elian stepped forward. He didn't raise his sword. He just loomed over the man.
"I'm a Drifter," Elian corrected.
He kicked Darius in the chest. It was a casual kick, like moving a chair, but with Elian's Strength, it folded Darius like a lawn chair. The Vice-Captain gasped, clutching his ribs, and fell to his knees.
"Tell your Guild Master," Elian whispered, leaning down so only Darius could hear. "If he wants his gear back, he can come get it himself. But tell him to bring better men."
Elian stepped over the groaning bodies and walked into the town. The crowd of onlookers parted like the Red Sea. No one said a word. The "Ghost of Floor 10" had just flattened an elite party without using a single skill.
The Alchemist's Stall
Luna was pacing back and forth, biting her fingernails. When she saw the familiar hooded figure approaching, she nearly tripped over her cauldron.
"Elian!" she squeaked, rushing out from behind her stall. "You... you've been gone for twenty-one days! I thought you died! I almost sold your share of the profits!"
"Glad you didn't," Elian said, dropping a heavy burlap sack onto her table. THUD. "I need inventory space."
Luna opened the sack. Her jaw unhinged.
Inside were stacks of Bone Dust, Crypt Moss, Rusty Iron, and Soul Shards. It was enough materials to stock an entire guild for a month.
"How..." Luna whispered, holding up a high-quality Soul Shard. "How much did you kill?"
"Everything," Elian said. "Calculate the total. Put it on my tab. I have one more stop."
He left the stunned alchemist and headed for the Silent Anvil.
The Silent Anvil
Kael was hammering a horseshoe, just like always. The fire roared, masking the sound of Elian's approach.
CLANG.
Elian slammed The Executioner's Edge onto the anvil. The heavy black blade took up the entire workspace.
Kael stopped hammering. He looked at the sword. Then he looked at Elian.
"Where," Kael grunted, running a calloused finger along the jagged edge of the blade, "did a brat like you find a Greatsword of this quality?"
"Floor 10," Elian replied. "Hard Mode."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Liar. No one clears Hard Mode solo."
"Check the metal," Elian challenged.
Kael pulled out a magnifying glass. He tapped the blade. It rang with a deep, mournful hum.
"Cursed Steel," Kael muttered, his skepticism vanishing, replaced by a craftsman's greed. "Tempered in necrotic mana. It's heavy, unbalanced, and sharp enough to cut a ghost."
"It's too slow," Elian said. "The weight distribution is off. It drags on the upswing."
He reached into his inventory and pulled out the Bone Plating skill book he had found, and a handful of Death Knight Armor Scraps he had salvaged from the boss fight.
"Can you reforge the hilt?" Elian asked. "Use the Death Knight's armor to counterbalance the handle. And I want the blade slimmer. Sacrifice some durability for speed."
Kael looked at the scraps of black boss armor. He licked his lips.
"You want me to modify a Rare boss drop using Boss scraps?" Kael grumbled, but he was already reaching for his tongs. "It'll cost you. 50 Gold."
It was a robbery. 50 Gold was everything Elian had earned from the chest.
Elian tossed the bag of coins onto the anvil. "Do it. And while you're at it, reinforce my boots. They're falling apart."
Kael grinned, a scary sight on the scarred dwarf. "Come back in two hours. And bring ale."
Two Hours Later
Elian stood in the testing yard behind the smithy.
He held the reforged Executioner's Edge.
It looked different. The blade was narrower, sleeker, resembling a massive odachi rather than a slab of iron. The hilt was wrapped in the black leather of the Death Knight's grip, and the pommel was weighted with the boss's armor metal.
[Weapon Updated: The Reaper's Edge (Unique)]
[Attack: 85 -> 95]
[Weight: Heavy -> Balanced]
[Effect: Attacks have a 10% chance to inflict 'Bleed'.]
Elian gave it a test swing.
Whoosh.
It cut through the air with a terrifying hiss. It was still heavy, but now it flowed. He could chain attacks.
"Not bad," Elian admitted.
"Not bad?" Kael scoffed, wiping soot from his face. "It's a masterpiece. Now get out of my forge before you cut something important."
Elian sheathed the massive sword on his back. He felt renewed. He had the money, he had the gear, and he had the reputation.
But as he walked out onto the main street, he saw a commotion near the town square.
A massive projection screen had been set up—a magical broadcast used for major announcements. The face of the Tower Administrator appeared.
[Global Announcement: The Tutorial Period is over.]
[Floors 11-20 are now unlocked.]
[The first 'Tower Climber Tournament' will begin in 3 days.]
Elian stopped. A tournament?
In his past life, there was no tournament this early. The Tower was accelerating the timeline.
"First the Mutated Boss, now this," Elian whispered, his hand drifting to the hilt of his new sword. "The Tower is watching me."
He grinned.
"Good. Let them watch."