The Fourth Floor did not feel like part of a tower.
It felt like a world.
The streets were alive with sound—voices layered over one another in different languages, laughter bursting from tavern doors, merchants shouting prices over the clang of hammer against steel. Beastmen stood beside humans without hesitation. Lizardfolk displayed polished monster cores that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Even a pair of dwarves argued passionately over the quality of a blade.
Alex moved through them like a shadow.
He stopped at a small fruit stall tucked between a spice merchant and a potion vendor. The stall was run by a beastwoman with soft white ears that twitched whenever someone approached. A long white tail swayed gently behind her dress as she arranged polished red apples into careful rows.
"Three bronze coins," she said with a polite smile.
Alex opened his inventory. Six bronze coins materialized in his palm, catching the light briefly before he handed them over. She passed him two apples in return.
He walked away, taking a slow bite.
The sweetness grounded him.
He let his gaze wander over the crowd.
There was a time when he walked streets like this surrounded by comrades—laughing, planning their next climb, admired by those who recognized their strength. Back then, the world had seemed wide and promising.
Now it felt like a memory belonging to someone else.
By the time he reached the cliff behind the city, the sun had begun its descent.
Golden light spilled across rooftops and market stalls. Shadows stretched long and thin, merging together as the sky shifted from orange to crimson. For a long moment, Alex stood there, watching the horizon burn.
Lysandra's face rose unbidden in his thoughts.
"I'll reach you," he murmured quietly.
The last sliver of sunlight vanished.
And with it, hesitation.
Alex walked into an Inn, The inn he chose was modest, but clean.
Before heading upstairs, Alex paused at the front desk.
"Send bread and soup to my room."
The innkeeper didn't even pretend to hesitate. "Two extra silver."
Their eyes met.
The message was clear: he was being overcharged.
Alex considered his options. Causing trouble now would draw attention. Attention led to questions. Questions led to complications.
Without a word, he paid.
Inside his room, he locked the door behind him and finally allowed himself to exhale.
He removed his jacket, then the rest of his clothes, stepping beneath the steady stream of warm water. Dirt and dried blood slid from his skin, disappearing into the drain. He had not properly washed since entering the Tower.
The heat eased the tension in his muscles—but not in his mind.
The next floor would hold the Church.
And the Church held Lysandra.
If he attempts to harm her and attacks the church, he would be branded an enemy. A bounty would spread across the Tower within hours.
If he failed…
His next chance would not come until the Tenth Floor.
That delay was unacceptable.
He stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist before moving to the table.
From his jacket, he withdrew his daggers, laying them out one by one.
Fifty.
In his past life, Although he used a scythe as his main weapon he was also adept at using daggers. His daggers had been masterpieces—balanced perfectly, forged from rare materials, capable of cutting through reinforced armor like cloth.
These were crude by comparison.
He summoned his gold.
Thirty coins stacked neatly before him.
Every single one earned by killing monsters although the more coins you get the stronger the monsters and all this is the bloodshed through on the First and Second Floors.
Tomorrow, he plans on heading to town to find a replacement to his weapons.