The man's brows furrowed the moment he heard the truth.
An Apostle… standing right in front of him.
That title was not something to be taken lightly. Those chosen by the highest beings in the Tower of Gods were treated as equals to nobility—sometimes even feared beyond them.
Kyran wanted to doubt the boy at first.
But he had witnessed it himself—Merlin casting healing magic with no incantation, no strain, and with absolute mastery. That alone was proof.
As he confirmed the little girl in his arms was fully healed, Kyran muttered, astonished,
"I never thought I would meet an Apostle…"
He repositioned the girl carefully before straightening his back.
"My name is Kyran. A Climber of the 4th Floor."
Merlin stiffened.
"The… fourth floor?" he whispered.
Anyone who reached the fourth floor of the Tower was already an elite—among the strongest humanity could offer.
And yet here Kyran was, casually speaking to him in the middle of a normal street.
Kyran lowered his head respectfully.
"I must repay your kindness, Apostle. I will do so once I return Lili home safely."
Of course, Merlin wouldn't reject such a valuable connection.
Especially when that connection stood on Floor 4.
He nodded. "I'll go with you."
...
The stench hit first—thick and nauseating.
Merlin wrinkled his nose as he followed Kyran into a murky brown building. Mold crawled up its outer walls like decay come alive.
Outside, beggars sat on torn cardboards, their bodies thin, their eyes hollow.
But inside…
Inside, Merlin felt Mana.
Weak, uneven, but undeniably there—leaking from several people who appeared to be nothing more than filthy vagrants.
As Kyran stepped deeper into the building, every gaze turned toward him.
And suddenly—voices roared together:
"Salute to the Leader!"
Merlin nearly flinched.
Leader?
Kyran raised a hand, signaling for silence, and pointed to one of the men.
"You. Bring Lili to her bed."
"Yes, sir."
The man obeyed immediately, carrying the girl with surprising care.
Kyran then looked at Merlin with a faint, knowing smile.
"You must be shocked by all this."
"…A bit," Merlin admitted. More than a bit, really.
"These people… were abandoned," Kyran said quietly.
"Those who lost their jobs. Those disowned by their families.
Those born without a place in this world."
"This is their home—a sanctuary for the unwanted."
Merlin couldn't find words.
He only followed as Kyran guided him into a private room.
...
The room wasn't large—but it was tidy.
A sturdy desk, a single chair, a deep red sofa, and shelves lined meticulously with documents.
Kyran gestured. "Please, sit."
Merlin settled into the sofa, eyes lingering on the shelves.
Information.
There was power in knowledge—and this place was full of it.
Kyran placed his wooden staff by the table and relaxed into his chair.
"Now then," he began, eyes focused.
"As repayment… what do you desire?"
Merlin leaned forward.
His childish demeanor faded—replaced by the presence of someone marked by fate.
"Information," he answered.
"That seems to be your specialty."
Kyran chuckled.
"Clever. Very clever. No wonder you're an Apostle."
Merlin didn't speak—his silence was confirmation.
"What kind of information?" Kyran asked.
Merlin's voice was steady.
"How do I enter the Tower of Gods… without the Union?"
A direct question.
Kyran didn't hesitate.
"There is no way."
He opened a drawer and retrieved a silver badge engraved with a tower—and the symbol of the Union.
"This badge is the only legal key to enter the Tower."
"You already know why the Union monopolizes the entrance, yes?"
"To prevent stupid deaths," Merlin replied flatly.
Kyran smirked. "Exactly."
Merlin's eyes remained fixed on the badge.
"…Then what's the fastest way to obtain one?"
Kyran smiled for the second time—this one carrying a trace of mischief.
"There are three ways."
He raised a finger.
"First—steal it. Quick, but shameful."
Another finger.
"Second—join the Union and earn special privileges."
And a third.
"Third—train at the Union Academy for three years."
Merlin clicked his tongue inwardly.
So Jane was right.
No shortcuts.
No mercy.
"…Then how do I join the Academy?" he asked, his resolve unwavering.
Kyran studied him for a moment.
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
Kyran froze mid-breath.
"…Fifteen?"
He exhaled a small laugh.
"Then you will have to wait two more years.
Only those seventeen and older can enroll."
Silence.
Then—
'Two years?! Are you kidding me?!'
Merlin screamed internally.
His fists clenched.
He had reincarnated from death—fought fate itself—
only to be told… he needed to wait.
...
Jane Calone.
A noble daughter of the Calone family—a lineage renowned for producing talented Climbers. Most members of House Calone were capable of reaching at least the third floor of the Tower.
At the age of seventeen, she enrolled in the Union's academy—Third Wing Academy—located in the city of Sirus.
From her entrance exam alone, she was already considered a gifted candidate, standing on equal ground with the high-ranking nobles.
For three years, she learned and absorbed everything she could, pushing the boundaries of her knowledge even further.
Jane was like a vast, empty vessel—eager to be filled, craving more, never satisfied with what she had.
By her third year, she had made her decision: she would prepare to climb the Tower of Gods. To begin, she sought knowledge in the grand library of Sirus, searching for information about the first floor of the Tower.
But what happened that day forced her to postpone her plans.
She met a strange boy—a child whose behavior did not match his age.
What shocked her most was that someone so young could already wield magic.
Jane herself only managed to use magic in her second year after being taught by the academy's professors.
Yet that child—Merlin—possessed power so overwhelming that it surpassed her own, despite her three years of training at the academy. Still, Jane could tell that his power was raw—unrefined, like a blade needing a sharper whetstone.
Perhaps, she thought, Merlin attending the academy could become a turning point in his life.
Now, Jane sat in her room, a quill in hand, writing down the events she had experienced over the past few days.
Her encounter with Merlin… and the twists of fate that followed.
Her naturally beautiful face remained composed, while her skilled hand danced across the paper, each stroke filled with quiet emotion.
"Merlin…" she murmured as she wrote his name.
"…The child who became an Apostle," she added beneath it.
She thought about him carefully. After what happened in the library… and our meeting at the Blue Moon restaurant… it felt as if he were searching for something he had lost, she wrote, her thoughts flowing into ink.
…Every question he asked wasn't truly for the answers…
The soft sound of quill against parchment echoed as she wrote deeper.
…Were those questions his own? Or did they come from the god he serves…?
"No…" Jane struck through what she had just written.
Who exactly is the god he serves? she wrote again, this time boldly.
Arken… could all of this be connected? Jane paused as a single name resurfaced in her mind—one that sent shivers racing down her spine.