Awakener's Guide to Climbing the Tower

Sitting in a wooden chair beside one of the narrow beds, Misha rested her elbows on her knees and watched Caius breathe.

That had become the most important sound in the room. In, pause, then out. It was too shallow for her liking.

The Central Crematorium had quieted considerably since sunset. A single lantern burned beside Caius’ bed, its light barely reached the corners.

She had removed most of his ruined outer clothing after Alaric finished the first round of healing. The shirt underneath remained open at the chest so she could monitor the movements in his chest. A strip of clean cloth covered the cut near his temple. Dried blood remained in a few strands of blond hair, but most of it had already been cleaned away.

His face had finally regained some color, although not enough.

Alaric had insisted Caius was merely exhausted after pushing his mana beyond anything his body had been prepared to handle. Misha had responded that merely exhausted was an irritating phrase to use for somebody who had bled and collapsed unconscious.

The blood loss remained the part she disliked the most. A proper transfusion would have made things easier if they were somewhere with an actual clinic rather than inside a dead city’s crematorium. She had no typing kits, no sterile tubing, no preserved blood products, and no safe way of gambling on a donor without knowing Caius’ blood type.

Even if one of the survivors volunteers, probably compatible was not a phrase she was willing to use while moving somebody else’ blood into an unconscious patient. So in the end, she had settled for what the Tower provided.

An uncorked bottle sat beside the lantern.

「 〔Advanced Healing Potion〕

Grade: Rare (R)

Type: Consumable

Effect:

• Restores 30% of maximum HP over 10 seconds.

• Stops severe internal bleeding.

• Accelerates recovery of damaged muscle and tissue for 1 minute.

• Partially stabilizes internal injuries and fractures.

• Reduces physical pain for 10 minutes.

Limitations:

• Does not fully heal severe wounds.

• Cannot regenerate lost limbs or destroyed organs.

• Cannot cure poison, disease, curses, or abnormal conditions.

• Healing efficiency decreases if additional damage is received during recovery. 」

She had fed it to him slowly. A few drops at the corner of his mouth and making sure he swallowed it. She stopped if he coughed, then started again only after his breathing settled.

It was rather tedious but that was fine. Tedious was better than drowning somebody in medicine designed to keep them alive.

Now Caius slept, or remained unconscious. Misha preferred the latter since it sounded less medically irritating.

She leaned back against the chair and rubbed the heel of one palm against her eye. Her own body had stopped shaking sometime after they entered the Crematorium. Whether that meant she was recovering or simply too tired to continue shaking was debatable.

The Observation Channel had finally gone quiet after it turned offline. Observers had become loud after the Primarch died, but Misha had ignored all of it while dragging Caius back through Exodus.

Although she had to admit, the reward had been harder to ignore.

Her fingers drifted toward her upper arm. The second Stigma had marked itself there hours earlier, and even now, she could swear the skin felt warmer whenever she thought about it.

「 〔OBSERVER QUEST REWARD〕

Issuer: ◘◘◘◘

—

«Witness of the End»

Grade: Ultra Rare (UR)

Type: Stigma

Description: A Stigma bestowed by one who remained long enough to witness the final moments of a dying world.

Effect:

When the bearer witnesses the death of a nearby ally during combat, «Witness of the End» activates.

For the remainder of the battle:

• Perception +12%

• Mental Strength +12%

• Fear Resistance +20%

• Reaction Speed +8%

Special Effect — «Final Witness»

The first death witnessed during each battle grants heightened awareness for 10 seconds.

During this period:

• Perception +20%

• Ambush and concealment effects are slightly easier to detect.

—

Additional deaths refresh «Witness of the End» but do not stack its effects.

Artificial constructs, and entities without a recognized life signature do not trigger the Stigma. 」

Misha hated it since the Stigma felt less like a reward and more like a forecast. As though whatever Observer had bestowed it had looked at her, looked at the people around her, and decided the correct gift was something that became stronger whenever somebody beside her died. As if that was going to happen often enough to justify an Ultra Rare ability.

Her thumb pressed harder over the hidden mark.

"Fuck you too," she muttered.

On the bed, Caius shifted so slightly. His brow drew together for a second, and two fingers moved against the blanket, then nothing.

Misha caught it so she immediately straightened herself so quickly the chair creaked beneath her. "Cai?"

There was no response, but she watched him for another several seconds before slowly leaning back again.

"Of course," she muttered. "Make me think you’re waking up and then go back to ignoring me. You must enjoy seeing me this worried."

The door opened without a knock.

Twinfang was halfway out before her mind identified the person entering.

Dorian Nidyg stopped just inside, his gaze dropped briefly toward her hand, then returned to her masked face.

The Blackthorn leader, or rather, Guildmaster, had removed his bloodstained outer coat sometime after helping carry Caius inside. The man struck her as the sort of man who preferred other people’s blood at a comfortable distance, and yet, he had helped carry Caius.

His narrow brown eyes moved toward the bed. "How is he?"

Misha looked back at the bed. "Alive."

There was a brief pause as Dorian waited for her to continue.

She sighed. "As you can see, he’s breathing on his own, and his pulse is steady enough now."

"That sounds promising." His expression remained politely neutral.

He stepped farther into the room, though not enough that she had to tell him to back away from Caius like some overprotective mother. Instead, Dorian stopped beside the wall and glanced toward the narrow window set high in the stone.

Darkness pressed against the glass, no sunset remained now, only a thin slice of two moons behind clouds.

The door, still partially opened, shifted wider since Carl squeezed through sideways with both hands wrapped around a metal basin. Water sloshed dangerously close to the rim, and a folded towel hung over one forearm.

Misha stood immediately. "Careful."

"I’ve got it."

"You’re twelve."

Carl gave her a look that suggested children had successfully transported water for several thousand years and she was being unnecessarily difficult.

Misha took the basin anyway before he could spill half of it onto the floor. It was warmer than she expected.

Carl adjusted the towel over his arm. "The old lady near the furnace heated it."

"Which old lady?"

"The one with the knife."

That narrowed absolutely nothing down among the surviving residents of Exodus so Misha decided not to ask further.

Carl looked around her toward Caius. "Is he still asleep?"

"We were just discussing that," Dorian answered mildly from the wall.

The boy looked at him, then at Misha. "Can I help?"

She set the basin on the table. "You already brought water."

"I mean with him." Carl pointed at Caius. "I can clean the blood on his body."

Misha looked at him, his face had changed since Kiln House Four. Children did that too quickly in places like Exodus.

There was still something soft around his cheeks, his expression still carried that stubborn openness children had before they learned to hide every reaction, but the easy expectation that adults would handle the problems for him had disappeared. His family was dead, his home had become a monster-filled ruin, he had spent the days being carried between people who were themselves barely surviving, and somehow, after all that, he still wanted to help.

She reached over and ruffled his hair once before she smiled softly beneath the mask. "Dip one corner, wring it out properly and don’t soak his body."

Carl nodded with absurd seriousness before he went and dipped the towel into the basin, wrung it between both hands, then carefully sat on the opposite edge of the bed. His movements slowed the closer he got to Caius. The seriousness became concentration.

Misha watched his hands, not because she thought Carl would hurt him. It was just a habit now to watch everyone’s hands.

Dorian remained quiet as he leaned against the wall with his arms loosely folded, watching without making himself part of it. Then he said, "When do you intend to leave?"

’There it was.’ Misha’s gaze moved toward him.

"We need to head to the next floor."

"We’ll wait until Caius wakes up."

His expression did not change. "I assumed that would be your answer."

"Then congratulations. You saved us both time."

Dorian ignored the remark. "Our food will not last indefinitely."

Misha’s eyes narrowed slightly. "How bad is it?"

"Twenty-eighth people, with your group included. We have limited food, and several of the injured require more attention than the others if we expect them to recover properly. If we ration the supplies aggressively, it will probably reach four days."