Commissioner’s office of the Superhuman Management Agency.

Commissioner Jung Woojin turned to Vice Commissioner Han Donggeon.

“Have you still not found Mirinae?”

“Unfortunately… no, we have not.”

He was well aware that Korea’s top three rankers were digging into Mirinae’s identity.

And for a rather troubling reason at that.

The fact that they would openly speak of eliminating Mirinae right in front of the Commissioner of the Superhuman Management Agency meant their minds were already made up.

How had Korea come to this?

He understood the desire to reclaim a Summon that had been by their side from the 1st floor all the way to the 62nd.

But that was no justification for killing another superhuman.

What, then, was the point of having a Commissioner of the Superhuman Management Agency who couldn’t say a word to Kim Taemin?

There were times he wanted to press a gun barrel against Kim Taemin’s skull and pull the trigger.

Superhumans were only truly superhuman inside the Tower; in the real world, they weren’t all that threatening.

Their Exclusive Skills were all locked, and their Universal Skills were nothing remarkable.

Moreover, once they stepped outside the Tower’s domain of influence, they were nothing more than ordinary civilians.

Several countries had seized upon this very point to oppress the human rights of superhumans.

“Our country should have handled superhumans like China did…!”

At Woojin’s complaint, Donggeon smiled bitterly.

“You know full well what happened to Beijing.”

Under the pretext of ensuring public safety, China had confined all its superhumans in a single building and thoroughly trampled their freedom.

The superhumans, unable to endure the stress, had rioted, and in the process, every single high-ranking ranker had perished.

The result?

The annihilation of Beijing.

Currently, a massive black dome covered Beijing, and no one knew what had become of the city within.

Not a single person had ever escaped from a city enveloped by a black dome.

Nor had anyone ever entered one.

Not even once.

Woojin spoke as if raising a counterargument.

“Still, Shanghai is managing just fine, isn’t it?”

Shanghai, whose Tower had appeared later than Beijing’s, had managed its superhumans loosely due to the city’s characteristics.

And after Beijing vanished in the superhuman riots—

They had firmly established their policy through a combination of lax surveillance and rigorous control.

Unlike during the Beijing era, Shanghai’s rankers were treated as national heroes.

Grand mansions, expensive cars, dedicated secretaries to assist them, and so on.

But behind that facade lay thoroughgoing control.

Shanghai’s superhumans, even when they wished to travel abroad, had to leave their families behind in their home country and go alone—and even then, they had to sign mountains of paperwork.

It had gotten so bad that people joked Shanghai’s superhumans gave up on overseas travel because they were sick of signing documents.

Still, thanks to that rigorous control, the Shanghai Tower progression was far more stable.

The Tower 13.

Despite being established quite early, its highest cleared floor was only the 65th.

They cleared exactly one floor every 28 days, and a formidable 13 rankers had reached the 65th floor, giving them a solid core of high-level superhumans.

Donggeon smiled awkwardly once again.

“That might have worked if we’d done it from the start… but we only have three rankers. And they’re completely beyond our control.”

“Hah! I misjudged people! I completely misjudged them! I should have listened to you when you told me not to funnel everything to Kim Taemin alone!”

“That’s all in the past now… And at the time, other superhumans were racing to climb the Tower. If our Superhuman Management Agency wanted to stand on equal footing with them, it was an unavoidable choice.”

After all, it was a system where everyone died if no one reliably cleared the top floor.

So the thinking went that having an agency-backed superhuman become the top-floor climber would be advantageous for Tower management in many ways.

But now, the very axe they had trusted had come back to cut their own foot.

“Right… I appreciate the kind words, at least. By the way, how are the preparations going for Lee Seoah’s climb?”

“It looks like she’ll be able to climb the 49th floor smoothly before long. However… the weapon Lee Seoah uses is the problem.”

“Did it break again?”

“It’s on the verge of breaking. She’ll likely need a new weapon to attempt the 50th floor.”

“Hahaha, Lee Seoah certainly has plenty of strength! That’s encouraging, but having to worry about her weapon every time is its own concern.”

Donggeon broached the subject carefully.

“According to reports… a Level 5 weapon with considerable durability has surfaced in Japan.”

Woojin let out a groan.

“So you’re telling me to go to Japan and bow my head again?”

“That’s not what I meant… I only suggested it might be worth attempting a negotiation.”

Woojin let out a self-deprecating laugh.

“Heh heh… It might be different if we had a Skill Enhancement Ticket, but Kim Taemin’s been raiding our stores day in and day out. I’d love to know what we could possibly bring to the negotiating table.”

“…I apologize.”

“Haha, don’t worry about it. I know you brought it up for the country’s sake. Phew…! I suppose I’ll have to go upstairs and do some groaning about what to bring for another loan request!”

What could he do when his own storehouse was empty?

For now, he had no choice but to go beg at someone else’s storehouse.

* * *

Shin Jungho checked the warhammer’s description.

[Tiamat’s Staff]

– Level Requirement: 2

– Amplifies magic-based skills.

– Sturdy.

– Description: A staff painstakingly crafted by the battle mage Tiamat, who was infuriated by how easily staves shattered under even minor impacts. Its performance as a staff is exceptional, but it is so heavy that even its creator, Tiamat, could not wield it properly.

This warhammer…

Was a staff?

The world was home to all manner of people, it was true.

But the tale of a mage who decided to forge a staff in the shape of a massive warhammer never failed to astonish, no matter how many times he thought about it.

And to top it off, after creating it, the maker herself couldn’t even use it properly because it was too heavy.

To gauge just how heavy it was, Jungho grabbed the handle and heaved.

“Heup!”

And immediately gave up.

If he strained any harder, it wouldn’t be the warhammer that lifted—it would be his spine.

“Lea, would you try lifting this?”

“As you wish, my Lord.”

Lea gripped the handle briefly and strained.

“Haap!”

Byeonjjeok!

Oh!

She lifted it! She actually lifted it!

“N-now… wh-what… do I… do…!”

Lea forced the words through clenched teeth as her arms trembled violently.

Jungho hastily commanded.

“Just set it back down where it was! Gently!”

Kuuk.

The warhammer landed upside down in its original spot.

“Huuuuu!”

She had clearly overexerted herself; Lea’s face, which had been rather pale, flushed bright red once more.

Her combat skills were outstanding, but her raw physical strength apparently was not all that high.

Still, a staff so heavy that even Lea couldn’t properly lift it…

Just how strong was the battle mage who created this thing?

Or rather, before that question—

Was she even really a mage?

“I apologize, my Lord. I have shown you an embarrassing display.”

“No, I couldn’t even lift it myself. I suppose that means you won’t be able to use that weapon either, Lea.”

“If my Lord commands it, I shall wield it even if both my arms fall off. Unfortunately, however, the supernatural ability contained within items can only be utilized by superhumans.”

What’s more, Lea possessed no magic-based skills either, meaning she would only be saddled with penalties.

Jungho pondered for a while, then muttered to himself.

“…Should I just throw it away?”

The Summoning Stone had already cramped his studio apartment, and now the massive staff made it feel even more cramped.

He figured he could bring it along next time he entered the Tower and just leave it inside—problem solved.

Besides, it amplified magic-based skills.

What would happen if he used Meteor Summoning while holding this?

He was inwardly terrified, yet a flicker of curiosity stirred within him.

Still, it was a weapon pulled from a Platinum draw—surely it had to be good for something?

Anyway.

He’d think about the Tiamat’s Staff situation later.

Next, it was time to crack open the Platinum Random Box.

Unlike the standard Random Box, this one was wrapped in colorful bands and radiated a golden glow, as if boldly proclaiming, “There’s something good inside me!”

What on earth could be inside?

“Lea, would you perhaps…”

“At last, the moment has come for my Lord’s golden hands to shine! I, Lea, shall pray with both hands clasped until my Lord’s wishes reach the heavens!”

…That was quite an elaborate way of saying she didn’t want him to pull.

He had no intention of forcing her to do something she disliked.

So Jungho boldly opened the Platinum Random Box himself.

Peong!

[You have obtained 1 Summoning Stone Enhancement Ticket.]

“Ooooh! My Lord’s divine grace has reached the heavens! To draw such an incredible item in a single pull! Truly a glorious achievement!”

Lea stifled a cheer.

…Wasn’t she making rather too much fuss over a simple good draw?

Still, good was good.

Summoning Stone Enhancement Ticket.

As the name implied, it enhanced the Summoning Stone.

Naturally, it was an item that dropped extremely rarely, and only for those who possessed a Summoning Stone.

Normally, you’d be lucky to even see one after the 30th floor.

By some stroke of luck, he’d obtained one right at the 10th floor.

Since he had no other use for it, Jungho immediately used the Summoning Stone Enhancement Ticket.

Chak.

He brought the ticket to the Summoning Stone.

“Enhance.”

At the command, crimson light erupted in all directions, just as it had when Lea was first summoned.

Naturally.

He had drawn the blackout curtains thoroughly, so there was no chance of light leaking outside.

Not just the curtains.

But the front door as well.

After a moment, the light faded completely.

The Summoning Stone reappeared in a slightly altered form.

Something had… changed, certainly.

It exuded an aura, as if proudly showing off that it had become more impressive.

Though, at the end of the day, it was still a giant rock.

Still, the biggest difference was that he could now check the Summoning Stone’s information.

[Summoning Stone]

– Owner: Shin Jungho

– Summoned Being: Lea

– Summon Count: 2 per day

– Summon Duration: 4 hours

The summon count had gone from once a day to twice.

And the summon duration had jumped from 1 hour to 4 hours.

Twice a day, four hours each…

That might be enough to last through the night?

“Lea, has anything changed for you?”

“I apologize. That my abilities remain unchanged is entirely due to my own inadequacy.”

“I told you, you don’t need to apologize for every little thing. Just speak comfortably. I think of you as an equal companion, not a subordinate.”

“S-such overwhelming words! Th-then, my Lord, I would be most grateful if you would also speak more casually to this humble one.”

That was an unexpected counterattack.

But Jungho wasn’t without a response.

“Even if I wanted to, how could I alone do that when you treat me with such deference? If anything, it would only reinforce this kind of relationship.”

“I-I’m sorry. I was thoughtless.”

“If you’re that sorry, then why don’t you try calling me the way you did last time?”

Lea’s eyes wavered.

“D-do I… really have to?”

“Yes.”

Seeing that Jungho had no intention of backing down, Lea squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them.

Then, as if steeling herself with final resolve, she forced out the words in fragments.

“Uh… O… p…?”

Normally, he might have let it slide.

But Jungho, who wanted a closer relationship with Lea, decided to wait a bit longer for her response.

Lord and vassal.

If this were a European fantasy world, he might have accepted it as natural.

But he was in Seoul, South Korea, where everyone was equal.

Especially the sight of a cheerful teenage girl who should be laughing and full of life, constantly bowing and scrupulously observing formalities with every “my Lord, my Lord”—honestly, it made him uncomfortable.

It was painful to watch, too.

As Jungho continued to wait for her answer, Lea, realizing there was no escape, mumbled hesitantly.

“Uh… um… Op… pa…?”

Jungho smiled gently and replied.

“That’s right, Lea.”

It was the natural casual speech that a lord ought to display.

But the fact that Jungho, who had always addressed her formally, had suddenly switched to casual speech—

Combined with the countless romantic scenes between men and women she had absorbed from watching Korean dramas, all flashing before her eyes in rapid succession—

Lea’s mind exploded.