Climbing past Floor 65 wasn’t like running a dungeon anymore. It was like waging a war of attrition against a planet’s hostile geography. The simulation training everyone went through at the Zenith had been invaluable, upgrading our efficiency, but it couldn’t fully replicate the sheer, oppressive malice of the Tower’s upper echelons. It felt like an endless gauntlet.

  The air thinned until it was barely breathable without active mana-supplementation filtering through our evolved lungs. Gravity became a suggestion rather than a law, shifting its vector every few hundred meters, sometimes trying to fling us into the ceiling or crush us into the floor. We found ourselves walking on the walls, or floating across chasms where the ‘sky’ below was a swirling nebula of condensed, raw Essence that would vaporize flesh on contact like acid.

  “The environment is quite aggressive,” Leoric noted, his scanners buzzing angrily as he adjusted a rune on Lucas’ shield mid-climb. “Floor 68’s wind currents are shearing at several mach speeds. If we didn’t have the [Void-Scale] plating dispersing the kinetic load, lower Tiers would instantly turn into confetti on that floor.”

  “Seems like this is around the point where we stagger,” Lucas said, though even his Mythic armor was vibrating under the constant atmospheric pressure. “While Eren maintains one floor lead ahead of us.”

  We pushed through Floor 70, a bio-luminescent jungle made of sentient, copper-based plant life that tried to ground electricity through our bodies to feed.

  I took point. My Anima flanked me — Rexxar a golden battering ram smashing vines, Nyx a shadow blade severing roots. The rest of the team provided range support and tactical awareness through our drones, calling out ambushes from Deep-Stalkers — Tier 7 Elite predators that moved through the walls like sharks in water.

  But the true treasure wasn’t just the Essence or the challenge. It was the matter. The very ground we walked on was precious.

  On Floor 75, we found a massive, exposed vein of [Astral Silver]. It glittered with cold starlight in the dim cavern.

  “This…” Megmus, the Zenith Smith who had insisted on joining the ‘Recon Team’ via a secure comm-link from the base camp, gasped over the audio feed. I could hear him dropping his tools. “This is reactor shielding material. You use this to line the core of a starship to contain singularity drives. It reflects hard radiation and stabilizes dimensional rifts. Once refined, it’s worth around 50 Quintessence Shards per gram on the Trade Federation exchange. And you have… metric tons of it.”

  “We do have a mountain of it,” I realized, looking at the glistening canyon walls that stretched for miles. “And this stuff is going to regenerate monthly?”

  “Based on the ambient mana flux? Yes,” Jeeves confirmed, his voice laced with calculations. “The Tower synthesizes it from the cosmic background radiation.”

  We didn’t just pass through the caves. We claimed every rich spot. Jeeves deployed a swarm of spider-beacon-drones, tagging the high-yield veins for the specialized Dweorg mining teams that would follow in our wake. Our run was not just a tower raid; we were prospecting for the future economy of Ferra. We were securing the treasury for a galactic war before the first shot was even fired.

  “Mining Teams are moving into Floor 60,” Arthur’s voice cut in. “Extraction on the lower levels is proceeding. Various guilds from the Allied sectors have set up forward bases on Floor 50. It’s becoming a city down there.”

  The tower was alive. Not just with monsters, but with industry.

  The floors blurred into a montage of high-stakes violence and incredible discovery.

  Floor 80: The Ruined Foundry.

  The terrain shifted abruptly to a ruined cityscape made of black iron pipes and gears the size of buildings, covered in oil that burned with cold fire.

  The enemies here were constructs — [Black-Iron Wardens]. Ten feet tall, encased in armor that absorbed magic, wielding greatswords that hummed with gravity manipulation.

  They moved with military precision, phalanxes locking shields to block corridors, using suppression tactics.

  “They are coordinating,” I warned, deflecting a blade with a Void-Shield that rang like a church bell. “These aren’t mindless mobs. They have a tactical net. Rexxar, anchor right! Nyx, disrupt the backline! Don’t let them encircle us!”

  “Gladly!” Rexxar shouted, his golden aura flaring. “I will shatter their line! For the Pride!”

  Rexxar charged, [Sovereign’s Might] glowing gold. He slammed into the phalanx, cracking the formation with pure mass.

  Anna insisted on joining us from a far distance, staying fully Veiled while watching and only engaging when she finds appropriate. And so, she fired three arrows in rapid succession, curving them around shields to strike the exposed joints of the constructs with surgical precision.

  We looted their cores — [Graviton Matrices]. High-density energy sources for heavy machinery. Leoric was already drooling over the potential for new siege engines and floating artillery platforms.

  From Floor 81 onward, the strategy changed. The ambient danger was too high for a group push without intel.

  “New protocol,” I announced at the elevator to Floor 82. “I clear the floor ahead using Void-Walk and a full glimpse once we get to the mini boss floor. Once I verify the layout and neutralize the threats and ambushes if there are any, you guys move in to extract and secure. We leapfrog. I don’t want anyone walking into a trap blindly.”

  They agreed. Even my Anima were not safe on these floors. I would scout the nightmare, and they would harvest the dream.

  Floor 85 was a maze of mirrors that spawned Tier 8 illusions. I used a Glimpse to determine the threats then jumped in and shattered the source — a central mid Tier 8 Crystal Mind which I was a direct counter to, due to my Soul and high mental resistances — before the team even entered.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Floor 88 was a vacuum. I had to do some terraforming, manually stabilizing the atmosphere with mana-generators before the miners could even step foot inside.

  By the time we reached Floor 89, my team was exhausted but euphoric. Their bags of holding and System Storages were full to bursting. Their stats had spiked from their contributions to the fights and from the sheer ambient essence at these levels — simply existing in this density was a workout for the soul.

  But the gate to Floor 90 was different.

  It wasn’t a door. It was a swirling event horizon. A tear in space.

  I halted the team. The air here tasted of ozone and burnt time.

  “This is where we stop, for now,” I said, sensing the overwhelming pressure leaking from the vortex. “I can already sense Floor 90 is going to be a massive challenge and my Glimpse still isn’t up. It’s not a bad run so far. Not sure how they expect us to harvest anything past floor 80 though. The environmental hazards alone inside that room would bypass our crafters’ armor and boil their blood.”

  “We can suppress the effects, or they will probably get some more skills and defenses as they gain Essence from the crafting and harvesting they’re about to do,” Anna argued. “Any chance we take on the rest of the floors soon? I really want to see 100.”

  “Not anytime soon, not against a peak Tier 8,” I shook my head firmly. “Especially if my guess that 100 is guarded by an Ascendant is accurate. We will go back to the main hall at Floor 89. Secure the loot. Prep the extraction teams. And then we’ll set up in the Tower’s lobby, watching over the teams and helping if anything comes up.

  They didn’t like it, but they respected the logic.

  We retreated. We spent the next day turning the safe zone on Floor 89 into a forward command post. Lucas coordinated the arriving Dweorg miners. Silas mapped the safest routes for the transport Wyverns.

  I waited for my Glimpse cooldown to reset.

  Once it did, I sat in my tent, engaging the privacy wards.

  “Okay, System,” I breathed, centering myself. I spent an hour tuning my mana circuits, ensuring my cores were cycling at maximum efficiency.

  I sat down and activated [Glimpse of a Path].

  I stepped through.

  I wasn’t in a room. I was inside a geode the size of a city. The walls glittered with million-carat diamonds. In the center, submerged in a lake of liquid mana, was the Guardian — The [Earth-Shaker Behemoth].

  It looked like a mix between a mole and a dragon, covered in armor plates made of bedrock. Its claws were obsidian drills.

  “You are small,” it rumbled, the voice echoing from the walls themselves. “Are you crunchy?”

  “Let’s find out,” I replied, summoning my Void-Blade.

  The fight started with a tremor. The Behemoth swam through the stone floor as if it were water, erupting beneath me with jaws wide enough to swallow a tank.

  I dodged, [Void Walking] to a stalactite.

  We fought for twenty minutes in subjective time. I landed hits, chipping its armor. I used my [Domain] to soften the stone, it used its Domain to harden it back. It was a constant fight of physics and Authority with no clear winner.

  Then, it changed phases.

  It didn’t just bite; it opened its mouth and inhaled.

  The effect was a massive, inescapable [Geomagnetic Vortex].

  It pulled me in. Not my body, but the very minerals within my blood. My own veins turned against me, dragging me toward its maw. I fought it, burning mana to stabilize my own biology, but it followed up by collapsing the ceiling.

  I died within the underside of a mountain that was immediately crushed into diamond.

  I woke up in the lobby, shaking off the phantom crushing sensation.

  “Magnetic control with an overpowering Authority,” I noted. “Nasty. Should be easy though once I use my Hunger and Flame if that’s all it has.”

  The next few days settled into a rhythm. I coordinated the resource extraction, sparred with Rexxar to refine his anchoring techniques, and debated magic theory with Eliza.

  Then, back to the simulation.

  The second [Glimpse of a Path].

  I pre-cast a non-magnetic shield. I survived the vortex.

  But the Behemoth had more tricks. When I cracked its shell, it bled magma that spawned mini-elementals. They swarmed me, exploding on contact.

  “It’s an aircraft carrier!” I realized, fighting off a wave of lava-lings while the main body repositioned for a devastating sonic roar that scrambled my equilibrium.

  I managed to wound it deeply, but the sheer attrition wore me down. I ran out of mana trying to [Deny] the constant damage with nothing but Mana Authority.

  Three more days. Bastion’s vaults were overflowing. I refined my strategy.

  Glimpse 3.

  I found the rhythm. The magnetic pull had a cooldown. The magma blood made it slower.

  I perfected the dance. I used [Syntropy] selectively, only healing crippling injuries. I used [Void Walk] not to dodge, but to enter the stone itself, fighting it on its own terms.

  I snapped back.

  “Time to crack a mountain.”

  I walked to the Gate alone.

  “Game on.”

  I stepped through.

  The Behemoth roared.

  “Small things are puny!”

  “Big things fall!” I shouted back.

  The fight was a brawl. I didn’t finesse it; I met its force with nothing but [Apex Mana Authority]. When it tried to magnetize my blood, I flooded my veins with neutral mana. When it tried to spawn lava-lings, I crushed them with localized gravity before they could form.

  I took hits. Boulders the size of houses slammed into me. I let them hit, then immediately reversed any damage, forcing my body to remain whole through sheer willpower.

  It breached, belly glowing white-hot as it prepared the sonic roar.

  “Found you.”

  I [Void Walked] underneath it.

  I placed my hand directly on the soft spot.

  “[The Void-Star’s Hunger].”

  I didn’t just eat. I feasted.

  I drained the geothermal core. I drank the magma in its veins.

  The Behemoth shrieked, shrinking, withering as I stole its mass.

  It crashed to the ground, a husk of stone.

  I stood over the corpse, panting.

  It would have been possible to defeat it without either the Flame or the Hunger, but I felt like I had learned all I could from this boss regarding mana control. Besides, I did not want to push a fifth skill into Mythic, not yet at least.

  I looked at the path to Floor 91. The pressure radiating from it was heavy.

  “Soon,” I promised. “Once my Glimpse recharges. Floor 100 is waiting after all.”

  I turned back, loot in hand.

  Time to go home and check the profit margins.