Saya lay sprawled across the blood-soaked floor, unmoving, broken, and defeated.
Her breaths were shallow, twitching with every painful exhale. Above her loomed Raven, the monstrous crow in white, his crimson broad-blade sword raised high. The tip of the blade gleamed, only inches from Saya's heart. The end was seconds away.
At the far end of the throne room, near a shattered pillar, Kazui stirred.
Wounded. Weak. His ribs ached. Blood trickled from his mouth. But when his blurry vision focused—and he saw Saya about to be struck down—it was as if time stopped.
And reality struck.
If Saya died now…
There would be no one left to protect him.
No one to stop Raven.
No hope.
But worse—Kazui didn't care about his own death anymore.
Not if it meant losing Saya.
He had grown attached to her. Deeply. She wasn't just his swordmaiden anymore.
She was… everything.
And if she was gone, even survival would be meaningless.
That was when his relic flickered to life.
[You have 1500 Souls currently. Do you want to roll the gacha?]
Kazui's eyes widened.
This was it. His last hope.
If he was lucky, maybe he could summon another maiden. A powerful fighter. A miracle healer. Anything that could give them a second chance.
His hand trembled as he whispered:
"Roll the gacha."
A soft light pulsed from the relic on his wrist. Then the system chimed again:
[You have successfully rolled the gacha. You have obtained: God's Pole.]
The screen faded.
Silence.
Kazui blinked, staring at the message as confusion contorted his bloodied face.
"…What the fuck is this?" he muttered, baffled. "A pole?"
This wasn't the time for cryptic nonsense. Saya was seconds from death, and the gacha had just handed him something called God's Pole?
He glanced again at the relic.
He still had 1000 Souls left.
"Roll again!" he barked. "Come on! Give me something else! Anything!"
The screen responded:
[You cannot roll the gacha again. You may roll again in 24 hours.]
Kazui stared at it, dumbfounded. And then shouted:
"Wait, you're fucking kidding, right?!"
But the relic was silent.
And Raven's sword began to descend.
The crimson blade slowly closed the space between it and Saya's exposed chest, its deadly edge gleaming with the promise of finality.
Kazui clenched his fists. He wanted to scream, to cry, to undo everything.
But then—
The God's Pole materialized in his right hand.
He didn't summon it. It came to him.
A sleek, radiant staff of unknown origin, humming with raw energy. The moment Kazui grasped it, power surged through his veins—not just strength, but something deeper. Like his body had awakened. Like a divine presence had been sleeping inside him and now… it had finally opened its eyes.
He gasped, stumbling a step forward.
And in that single step—
He was in front of Raven.
No thought.
No logic.
No delay.
Just one step.
And he was there.
Even Raven flinched.
Kazui's eyes, which moments ago had been filled with fear, now burned with a different fire.
He didn't understand what just happened. He didn't know what the "God's Pole" was, or why it had chosen him.
But none of it mattered now.
All he knew was this:
He wasn't going to let Saya die.
Everyone who dared climb the Tower came prepared. Some with knowledge. Others with skills. Training. Heritage.
Kazui was no exception.
He was Japanese. And long before this chaos began, long before relics and gacha and monsters—he had studied a martial art passed down through generations.
Katori Shintō-ryū.
He inhaled sharply.
And with the God's Pole clenched tight in his hands, he took up his stance.
Not perfect.
Not polished.
But real.
And as Raven stared down at him, that monstrous sword still raised, for the first time—
He saw Kazui not as a helpless worm…
…but as a threat.
He striked with the God's Pole but Raven blocked it. The impact was so high that Raven was pushed back.
The God's Pole, a solid, unadorned iron staff, sat tightly in his right hand, humming with the surge of energy that now coursed through him. Each breath he took came with renewed strength, a second wind born not of confidence, but of necessity. Failure was not an option.
Across from him, Raven stood with his massive frame, cloaked in a white suit now stained at the cuffs with Saya's blood. His wings were folded back like twin scythes waiting to be unsheathed, and in his right hand was the massive crimson broad-blade sword, its edge glinting like it had tasted far too many hearts.
There was no declaration. No challenge. Just movement.
Raven charged with terrifying speed, ground beneath his taloned feet cracking from the force. Kazui moved—not away, but in. His footwork was a blur, precise and sharp, stepping diagonally to Raven's left. The iron pole swung up defensively, and Raven's sword came crashing down like a guillotine. The weapons met with a metallic screech that echoed like a funeral bell through the chamber.
The impact forced Kazui back, knees buckling under the weight. His hands screamed from the shock that passed through the pole. Raven pressed forward, relentless, his strikes a hurricane of violence. Each swing of the crimson sword was wide, heavy, and deceptively fast. Kazui dodged one by leaning back, felt the wind from the blade hiss past his face, then redirected the staff with a clockwise sweep, aiming for Raven's temple.
Blocked.
Raven's arm lifted and took the strike like it was nothing, wings spreading outward as if to consume the battlefield. Kazui pivoted, using Katori Shintō-ryū's angular footwork to slide behind him. He aimed a precise jab toward Raven's spine. But before it could connect, Raven spun with unnatural agility, the blade dragging across the stone floor, forcing Kazui to jump back, pole now held low in both hands.
The room echoed with the rhythm of battle—metal against metal, bone against stone, boots sliding, pole striking.
Kazui fought like a warrior trained in the old ways. No flair, no wasted movement. Only form, discipline, and timing. His strikes were like lightning, his blocks like flowing water. But Raven was something else—an apex predator in humanoid form. His power was monstrous, his instincts unnervingly precise. Kazui's staff cracked against Raven's thigh—he barely flinched. Another jab into his ribs—Raven grabbed the pole mid-strike, yanked it forward, and landed a knee straight into Kazui's stomach.
Kazui coughed blood and flew back, landing hard, sliding across the stone floor. He rolled, narrowly avoiding a downward cleave from the crimson sword that cratered the ground. Raven's wings launched a blade-like gust of wind as he swung again, the arc nearly severing Kazui's leg.
Kazui's grip tightened. The pole felt heavier now, sweat pooling down his arms. He had to remain calm. He had to move faster.
He charged, feinting right then immediately crouching low, swinging for Raven's legs. Raven hopped, but Kazui anticipated it, twisting into an upward strike aimed at Raven's chin. The blow connected—his pole rang against the beak, and Raven stumbled a step back.
A small win—but not enough.
Raven roared, feathers flaring, and retaliated with an overhead swing that Kazui barely caught with his staff. The impact shattered the marble beneath him, knees threatening to snap. Raven pressed down, and Kazui could see the crimson gleam in his eyes—unflinching, inhuman.
Kazui broke the clash by slipping sideways and countered with a spinning thrust to Raven's ribs, then another to his shoulder. It staggered the crow, who swung wide in retaliation. The pole met the crimson sword again and again, sparks flying with each blow. Kazui ducked a claw swipe, stepped into the crow's guard, and jammed the pole into Raven's stomach with all his might.
Raven grunted, wings bursting open.
Kazui was thrown backward by a gust of air, hitting a pillar. His spine screamed. Blood dripped from his lips.
Still—he stood.
Raven, enraged now, dashed forward with killing intent. Kazui adjusted his stance, gripping the God's Pole with a traditional overhead hold. He sidestepped, catching Raven's blade against the shaft, and used the momentum to twist it downward, exposing Raven's flank.
The next three strikes were clinical.
Iron pole—midrib. Iron pole—jaw. Iron pole—knee.
Raven roared in anger, wings slashing outward like blades. One grazed Kazui's chest, drawing a shallow but painful wound. Another forced him back, just as Raven advanced and tried to skewer him. Kazui redirected the blade with the shaft and swept Raven's legs.
Raven crashed onto his back—only to kip up like a beast possessed.
The battle pressed on.
Kazui and Raven clashed in a storm of movement—pole versus sword, speed against brutality. Each blow Kazui landed came with a cost. His arms throbbed. His back felt like it was splitting. But with every step, he adapted. He timed Raven's wings. He learned the angle of his sword. He felt the rhythm, the madness, the precision that only a warrior in sync with death could feel.
Then came the turning point.
Raven tried a full spin, wings spread, blade raised. Kazui lunged, sliding low beneath the swing, and rose up like a spring, his iron pole leading the charge.
He jabbed upward.
Straight into Raven's face.
The iron pole cracked the beak.
Raven reeled. Kazui didn't stop.
He advanced—blow after blow, pole clashing against armor, joints, and flesh. With a roar, he vaulted off the ground and slammed the pole with all his strength across Raven's face again.
Crack.
The beak split at the seam.
Raven faltered, blood gushing from the fracture, the crimson blade dropping from his grip as he staggered backward. Kazui didn't wait for confirmation.
He twisted the pole in hand and, with every ounce of fury, shame, rage, and resolve he had, drove the God's Pole one final time directly into Raven's shattered beak.
It broke.
The beak caved in, fragments bursting like glass.
Raven collapsed, limbs twitching, breath ragged, blood oozing from his mouth. The monster that had once dominated this throne room lay defeated, face shattered, body crumpled, breath silent.
Kazui stood over him, chest heaving, iron pole shaking in his hands.
He had won—not because he was stronger. But because he had no choice.
The God's Pole, dented and bloodstained, clattered to the floor beside him.
Kazui fell to one knee, eyes still locked on Raven's corpse.
Kenta's relic suddenly activated, a message flashing before his eyes:
[Quest Completed: Hunt Of The Crows]
[Reward: 10,000 Clouds]
[You have obtained Raven's Hat]
At the same moment, Kazui's relic lit up as well:
[Quest Completed: Hunt Of The Crows]
[Reward: 10,000 Clouds]
[You have obtained the Raven's Sword]
[You have successfully defeated Raven]
[+350 Souls]
[You obtained 3 Levels]
The space around them began to shift—first, a white void enveloped everything, then slowly, the familiar surroundings of the lobby came back into view.
Saya had already checked her maiden inventory and confirmed the arrival of Raven's Sword and the God's Pole in her weapon stash. Meanwhile, Kenta and Kazui found themselves back in the lobby, but both were badly wounded.
Nearby climbers noticed their battered forms immediately. It was no surprise—every lobby was staffed with dozens of medical teams, and this one was no exception.
The medical team rushed over and took in the scene. Kazui and Kenta were unconscious, their injuries severe—especially Kenta's.
These lobbies had medical rooms equipped to handle emergencies, and without hesitation, the team carefully lifted the two and carried them to one of those rooms for urgent treatment.