I Don't Need To Log Out

Arlon stepped onto the 84th floor of the Tower, his boots pressing into the cold stone.

Immediately, he noticed something different.

The walls—normally rough but structured, like an intentionally worn battleground—were ruined. Not just aged. Not just weathered.

Broken.

Large cracks ran along the stone, jagged and deep.

Chunks of the walls had crumbled away entirely, leaving gaping holes where the Tower's eerie blue flames should have flickered.

Some of the flames were still burning, but others had long since died out, their absence leaving unnatural patches of darkness overhead.

Arlon narrowed his eyes.

The previous floors had shown signs of use, but they were always controlled, as if the Tower itself designed them to look like a battlefield rather than actually being one.

This was different.

This was real destruction.

Something—or someone—had done this before he arrived.

And the most disturbing part?

It wasn't recent.

Arlon knelt, running his fingers along one of the larger cracks in the stone. It was smooth at the edges, worn down by time rather than fresh damage from a recent battle.

Yet the Tower had not repaired it.

Why?

The Tower always restored itself between challengers. That was the point of this entire place—it was an arena meant for endless battles.

So why was this floor left in ruin?

Arlon's thoughts were cut short by the system notification.

[Floor 84, Level 1 will begin when the challenger is ready. Do you wish to start?]

He exhaled slowly, pushing aside his thoughts for now.

This wasn't the first strange thing he had encountered since reaching the higher floors.

And it likely wouldn't be the last.

Yes.

The moment he confirmed, the hum of energy spread through the chamber.

A hundred monsters materialized before him, their forms taking shape from the swirling currents of mana embedded in the Tower itself.

Above their heads, glowing numbers hovered—an automatic function of his Eyes of KET**.

[Level 250 – 260]

Arlon clicked his tongue.

This shouldn't have been the case, but it is still manageable.

At level 250, he could fight monsters up to level 299 without much trouble.

Well, that was what he thought.

But the Tower's inconsistencies had forced him to reconsider.

Leveling up didn't erase the gap between existence levels.

While normal stats increased dramatically past level 200, an existence's level threshold was far more important than raw power.

Arlon had an advantage. His title made him 1.5 times stronger than his level suggested. But that didn't mean he could just ignore the difference between a newly leveled 299 and someone who had been stuck there for decades.

The difference was experience.

An existence stuck at a bottleneck, desperate to surpass their limits, would refine their combat skills to near perfection.

Just like Orlen had.

Arlon had been defeated by Orlen back at the academy, even though he was over level 100.

A level 299 existence who had spent decades at that threshold was leagues beyond someone who had just stepped into it.

That was the kind of monster he could face if things continued like this.

And yet—

His mind was working faster than before.

He realized it almost instinctively.

The way his thoughts flowed, the clarity of his reasoning—it was sharper than it had ever been.

Arlon's fingers twitched.

This wasn't just him adapting.

This was his existence level.

He didn't know this, but when one leveled up beyond level 200, there were many things that changed in their bodies.

First of all, their aging process reached to a crawling pace.

Even the level 150 existences would live at least twice as much as they normally would, and this time increased as they leveled up.

But after level 200, this time increased tenfold.

It didn't stop there; their capacity and comprehension of the universe increased.

Of course, this wasn't something like they understood the universe. It was just that they could learn things they couldn't before after they heard or researched it.

So, leveling up didn't give them information; it just increased their capacity to understand the information.

But...

Arlon couldn't make use of most of these things.

First of all, this wasn't his real body. This was just a replica created by Zeno.

So, he was still getting older on Earth.

Of course, he was still young, and he wasn't getting old in terms of the years he had spent in the Tower.

But still, he received some of the benefits like his advanced thinking speed.

Focusing back on the monsters before him, Arlon tightened his grip on Aetherion's Edge and moved forward.

The fight began.

It was easy.

But easy had a different meaning on this floor.

The battle stretched over days.

He couldn't simply cut down 100 monsters in seconds anymore. They were too strong, too durable, too intelligent.

His stamina could handle it—thanks to Zeno, he didn't need to sleep.

And even when he had been hit before, the damage had never been bad enough to slow him down.

Still, he didn't take risks.

He carried potions. Always.

And every time a battle ended, he drank them if necessary.

When the last monster finally fell, Arlon didn't advance immediately.

Between levels, he always took time to recover.

Not physically.

Mentally.

Even though he could continue without stopping, he knew better than to push himself without rest.

The Tower was designed to break challengers.

It wasn't the battles that would wear him down—it was the sheer length of time he would spend alone, with nothing but monsters for company.

So he forced himself to sleep.

Not because he needed to.

Because it kept him sane.

When he woke, he trained.

Agema had taught him many things, but more importantly, she had taught him how to train himself.

She had never intended for him to rely on her forever.

That was why, even now, he continued refining his skills—his swordsmanship, his magic, his time abilities.

And then, once his training was done—

He explored.

Even though every other floor had been empty, he had never stopped searching for secrets.

And now, on Floor 84, he finally found something.

A crater.

A massive, gaping wound in the floor, as if a meteor had crashed through it.

Arlon approached the edge, peering down into the darkness.

Nothing.

At least, nothing visible.

But Arlon wasn't relying on normal sight.

His mana perception flared to life, and suddenly—

He saw it.

A mana current.

It flowed through the crater like an unseen river, twisting and shifting in patterns he couldn't quite decipher.

Arlon exhaled.

He couldn't interact with it.

But he could see it.

And he was certain—this was the energy holding the Tower together.

If he stripped away the stone, he would likely find these currents running throughout every floor.

But that wasn't what interested him.

What mattered was why this floor had been left in ruin.

The mana was still flowing. The Tower was still alive.

Yet it hadn't repaired itself.

Why?

Arlon frowned.

He had theories.

But those would have to wait.

For now—

He had a Tower to climb.