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The 265-level volcanic titan's massive frame shuddered, its molten veins dimming as the last remnants of its life force flickered out.

A moment later, the towering creature collapsed, its molten core rupturing as it crashed onto the stone floor.

A wave of heat blasted outward, washing over Arlon in a final, scorching breath before the battlefield fell silent.

Then, a familiar chime rang in his mind.

[You have leveled up!]

Arlon exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he let the notification sink in.

Level 250.

It wasn't as hard as breaking through level 200. But it wasn't easy either.

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slightly. He didn't feel different. But he knew that he had changed.

Not just in strength.

Years had passed since he entered the Tower.

Years.

And yet, despite all that time, his memories from before stepping inside remained perfectly intact.

That was the part that truly unsettled him.

He hadn't forgotten a single detail—not about Trion, not about Earth, not about Agema, June, or the others.

Everything was as clear as the day he left.

If time magic was affecting him, it wasn't touching his mind.

Or maybe… the Tower itself was protecting it.

It was hard to say.

But one thing was certain—his sense of time had completely shifted.

The term years was easy to throw around, but living them was something else entirely.

At first, it was manageable. The accelerated time felt like an advantage, a way to grow stronger at an impossible rate.

But as the months stretched into years, the weight of isolation pressed heavier and heavier.

He had always been good at being alone.

He had spent his past life fighting, training, and surviving with no one at his side.

But this?

Even he had to admit that this was too much.

His body remained unchanged—he hadn't aged a single day. But his mind?

His mind had grown far older than his appearance suggested.

It was already that way because of his regression, but now, it had doubled down.

And the worst part was that he wasn't even halfway done.

The time went faster as he climbed the Tower, meaning it would still take many more years to climb the remaining floors if there were at least 100 floors.

And yet, there was no time to dwell on it.

Arlon turned his gaze to the battlefield.

The volcanic titan's remains still radiated heat, its scorched husk settling into a pool of cooling magma.

The once-fiery battlefield had dimmed, the flames along the cavern walls flickering lower now that their master was gone.

The fight had been brutal, but it lacked the excitement of reaching level 200.

Even after spending years grinding toward this milestone, there was no overwhelming thrill.

Level 250.

A major achievement.

But it wasn't his goal.

His true goal was level 300.

And this was just another step toward it.

He shifted his grip on Aetherion's Edge, feeling the weight of his weapon as he let his mind drift.

Training had been his main focus whenever he found time.

And time had become his specialty.

Time magic had always been elusive—difficult to grasp, nearly impossible to master.

But Agema had already planted the seeds. She had taught him so much, even if he hadn't been strong enough to apply it at the time.

Now?

Now, every lesson made sense. Every concept he had once struggled with had become clear as his power grew.

But even with all his progress, there were still limits.

He had tried experimenting on the monsters in the Tower, attempting to apply time magic against them in battle.

But the creatures here weren't like normal enemies.

They didn't stop.

They didn't hesitate.

Even if he whittled their numbers down to a single survivor, that last monster would still fight with the same relentless aggression.

There was no opportunity for testing—only survival.

Still, he had developed new tricks.

Perfected old ones.

Time had become both his ally and his greatest enemy.

Because no matter how much he trained, no matter how much stronger he became, he had been alone for far too long.

He had thought about seeing Agema again a few times. But what he realized more was that he also wanted to see June.

And, he wanted to see her more than he thought he would.

He wasn't an idiot. Its meaning was obvious to him.

Arlon closed his eyes for a brief moment, then exhaled.

Dwelling on it wouldn't change anything.

This was the path he had chosen, so he had to stop thinking about other things.

His eyes opened again, scanning the chamber.

Floor 83.

Level 250.

And yet, he already knew—this wasn't the end.

Not even close.

Because normally, he had been sure the monsters would continue scaling up to level 300.

Until floor 73.

---

Floor 73 was the first time something changed.

At first, Arlon didn't think much of it.

When he started Level 2, only one monster spawned.

It wasn't a boss. Just a normal monster.

He had blinked at the empty chamber, waiting for more enemies to appear.

But nothing happened.

One monster.

That was it.

His first thought was that this was some kind of feature.

Maybe the Tower was introducing a new challenge—a powerful solo enemy instead of a horde.

But the monster wasn't strong.

Also, when he moved on to Level 3, 300 monsters spawned as usual.

And that wasn't the only thing that was off.

The monsters on Level 3 were different from the ones he had fought on Level 1 of the same floor.

Before this, monster levels had always remained consistent across a floor.

That was how the Tower worked.

But now, the system had changed the rules.

A notification had appeared, as if trying to explain it away.

[Due to the monster spawning, the next level will be readjusted.]

That made it sound like this was intentional.

A built-in mechanic.

And maybe, if it had only happened once, he would have accepted that.

But it didn't stop at Floor 73.

On Floor 74, the monster levels were mixed up again.

The levels weren't high enough to be a problem—he could still handle them.

But that wasn't the issue.

The issue was the inconsistency.

The unpredictability.

The Tower had followed a pattern up until now.

The monsters grew stronger at a set rate. Their numbers increased at a set pace. The challenges were structured, clear, and deliberate.

Now?

Now, the order was breaking down.

On Floor 76, the boss monster was weaker than some of the normal enemies.

That had never happened before.

On Floor 79, two monsters fought each other the second they spawned.

That was even stranger.

Monsters in the Tower had never attacked each other.

Not once.

Their aggression had always been directed at him, not each other.

Then, on Floor 83, it got even worse.

A volcanic titan had appeared.

That alone wasn't strange—it was the expected boss monster.

But before Arlon could even engage it, the titan melted half of the other monsters in the chamber.

It wasn't just rampaging.

It wasn't attacking randomly.

It was actively killing the other enemies.

And the same notification had appeared on every level of every floor.

[Due to the monster spawning, the next level will be readjusted.]

Over and over again.

At first, Arlon had been annoyed because it meant losing potential experience points.

If the monsters killed each other, then he didn't get the life force from those kills.

But now?

Now, there was a bigger problem.

If this pattern continued…

Was level 300 even possible anymore?

His entire plan had been built on the assumption that the Tower would remain structured. That it would scale up predictably.

If the system itself was breaking down—if the Tower was malfunctioning—then...

There was no guarantee that the top even existed.

And yet…

That changed nothing.

Because whether it was 100 floors or 500, whether the system was stable or not—

Arlon would climb to the top.

No matter what.