Return of the Tower Conqueror

Chapter 41: Tower Conqueror (I)

Chapter 41: Tower Conqueror (I)

Tower Conquerors (I)

Cain stared at the TV with a faint smile on his face, a can of beer in one hand and a cigarette in another, sporting disheveled hair and unshaven beard that was beginning to run amok. Lana was playing on her phone on a sofa nearby while Emma was reading something up on her tablet next to him.

The TV was airing one of the many, many 'Top 10' segments that were currently the hot-thing, and theirs had to do with the 'Top 10 Most Exciting Tower Conquerors to Watch Out For'. The fact that he didn't recognize any one of them meant that they were likely busts that let ego swell their minds, but that wasn't the interesting fact -- it was that the term 'Tower Conqueror' was coined this early. Though he was using the term as far as he could remember, he was never quite certain when and who exactly coined it.

"What about this guy?" Emma pushed her foot against his side, forcing him to look away from the TV. "Timothy Agnes," she added with a grunt as she sat up from her half-lying and half-sitting position, shoving the tablet in front of his face. "Apparently, he's level 24, Bulwark Class, and has two items. He also claims he has one Skill at 'S' rank and two Traits at 'SS'."

"..." Cain stared emptily at a young, slightly... unsymmetrical face of a man on the screen talking into a mic with a proud expression. "His 'SS' traits are likely 'Pathological Liar' and 'Attention Whore'."

"... I can't even tell whether you're joking or not." Emma commented with a sigh.

"It's impossible for anyone to have an 'S' rank skill this early on," he said. "I'll be shocked if anyone even has it within two-three years."

"WHAT?!"

"You might think it's speedy-speedston," Cain elaborated, chuckling at her shocked expression. "But that's only because we always fought well above our means. Even then, this only encompasses the early stages. Once you somehow manage to grind out a skill to 'A-', it slows down to a fucking crawl. Even after twenty years, I only managed to get three Skills to the 'S' rank."

"..." she suddenly exhaled deeply, appearing dispirited as she crawled back into her half-lying and half-sitting position.

"Don't be so dispirited," Cain chuckled. "It actually makes sense. After all, if you get a skill to an 'S' rank, it means that you effectively have absolute control over it, as in -- it's physically impossible to get better at it."

"...eh? There aren't 'SS' ranks to skills?" Emma quizzed.

"There are."

"... appearing mysterious won't endear you to me, you know? It just makes me wanna smack you in the nose."

"... khm, 'SS' means that you've evolved the skill past its base," Cain explained, coughing awkwardly. "Say, my skill 'Fire' -- if I get it to 'S' rank, I'd be able to make it into any shape I wanted, any temperature, any color, any size, any anything, really. But, if I manage to push it past the 'S' rank and into 'SS'... well, actually, I have no idea. There were like two Elementalists who'd done it, and both were vaguer about it than The Waste Land."

"... aaah," Emma sighed, tossing the tablet aside. "There's nobody good here, Cain. Either their personalities are sus, or they just look creepy."

"... look creepy?" he glanced at her dubiously.

"Hey, don't suspect's woman's 'looks creepy' vibe," she chided with a serious expression. "We've developed it by interacting with hundreds of dudes who only wanted to see us naked. We pick up on those things."

"... oh, so it's like the 'crazy bitch radar' that the guys have?"

"... huh? What do you mean 'crazy bitch radar'?" she asked with a frown.

"Well, you know," he said. "Guys also have to weed through the myriad of not-quite-there women. So, we are kind of forced to pick up on the clues -- like, you know, talking about how much she loved her uncle growing up, or talking about how much she hates drama, or talking about how terrible every single one of her ex-boyfriends was... that kinda crap."

"... guys do that? Wait, you do that? Who you been dating behind my back?"

"... oh, please," he rolled his eyes at her with a grin. "In high school, you pissed so many girls off that half the school kept DM-img and asking me out. At first, I was flattered, but by the end, I was fucking terrified. Seriously, terrified."

"--wait, is that why you outright refused to ever go out with me and the girls?"

"Yup."

"Which one of them?"

"Em'--"

"Which one of them?"

"Hey, what about that guy?" Cain suddenly pointed at the TV, rapidly shifting the conversation elsewhere. On it, some random reporter in a suit was interviewing a handsome-looking man in his mid to late twenties, wearing casual clothes and sporting long, black hair.

"... that's Rehhee."

"... who the fuck is Rehhee?

"A singer." Emma said.

"..."

"..."

"Khm," Cain coughed awkwardly and changed the channel. Just as he found himself on the bridge that was collapsing, bright-red 'BREAKING NEWS' flashed across the TV screen as his heart surged with an emotion of gratitude.

"We apologize for the abrupt interruption," the host with a grim expression spoke out, drawing Emma's attention away from Cain at last, letting the latter breathe out a sigh of relief. "But we have just received the grim news from the Frontline -- one of the Conquerors, upon leaving the Tower, suddenly assaulted the nearby reporters and curious civilians, killing over thirty people and injuring over sixty, by current estimates. The assailant has been quickly apprehended by another set of the Conquerors and is currently being transported to a temporary, maximum-security, undisclosed location. We will now take you to the scene of the crime -- disclaimer, however, that the scenes you are about to witness can potentially be triggering, so, please, proceed with caution."

"... what a piece of shit..." Emma mumbled as she stood up, looking away from the TV. Cain took a puff of the cigarette as he glanced at her, sighing.

"... maybe I should have Rick reach out to the government and form a pact or something," he said. "We arm their officers or whatever, and we see what they can offer."

"... spoken like a true businessman," she said from behind, having left for the kitchen. "Hearing you say that it means it's not gonna stop?"

"Nope," Cain said, putting out the cigarette and standing up, having already shut the TV off. Even if Lana appeared too distracted to care, he didn't want to take any chances. Walking into the kitchen, he saw Emma leaning against a table, drinking water with shaky hands. "It won't be as bad as just random innocents dying, however. Mostly just Conquerors themselves ramming at each other. Even with the law in place that prohibited any fighting outside the Tower... well, you know. The crime shall thrive, and all that. You alright?"

"... just angry, C'," she mumbled, lowering her head. "This... thing... just happened to the world, and instead of uniting to figure out what the hell is going on... what do we do? Turn on each other immediately. Doesn't that sound like the most fucked up thing in the world? Like, imagine if aliens actually did invade. I always believed we'd unite and kick the motherfuckers' asses... but... now... I genuinely believe millions would be selling out others without hesitation."

"... I always found it quite cute, how much you believed in people," Cain sat next to her and chuckled. "And... somehow, everyone I knew always, always responded to your belief in them. Like, that fucker Jeremy -- dude used to jack cars, shoot up heroin and fight anyone and everyone. Yet... by the senior year... the fucker turned his fortunes around completely. Why? 'cause Emma-fucking-Matthews believed in him."

"Pfft, ha ha ha, hey, shut up!!"

"... you gotta keep believing, Em'," he added, looking at her warmly and smiling. "If you give up... what excuse do I have to believe? Yes, we're fucked up, and yes, we like stabbing each other's behinds -- and not always in a good way -- but... we have to keep on believing. The only stories you'll hear on TV and read on the internet are about the steaming-garbage people doing steaming-garbage things. But... what about the others? What about those going out of their way to help others in the Towers? What about those sharing useful info selflessly just to make sure people go in prepared? There are just as many, if not more stories of that kind, every day. The issue is... one good deed is always overshadowed by a psychotic maniac killing thirty people 'cause he thinks he's the big shit."

"... yeah," she sighed, jumping off the counter. "I can't just bitch and moan, though. Who cares about the fifth guy or a girl? Let's go into the Tower, help people on our way to that graveyard or something, and I'm sure we're gonna find someone."

"H-huh? Wait. That's not what I--"

"If we want the world to change, we need to lead by the example," she added, already rushing toward the bedroom, leaving Cain flabbergasted. "So, let's go and lead by the example! I'll call Diya, you call Jamal! We depart tonight!"

"..." Cain remained sitting on the counter with a faintly gaping mouth. It was... difficult to conjure up a complete thought, and, as such, he didn't even bother. Sighing with a bitter chuckle, he jumped off the counter and stretched lazily. Oh well, he shrugged. Even if we pick up some scrub... the place isn't that hard...

The confidence wasn't unfounded on his part -- after all, the Graveyard of Swords was the first 'raid' so to say that was recorded from start to finish and played out on a TV. And Cain had watched it from start to finish at least fifty times as one of the few publicly-available unedited runs inside the Tower that didn't cost an arm and a leg to access. Should I record it? Wait, no, that's insane. I wouldn't have any Mana to fight... Jesus, my brain just stops working from time to time, doesn't it? Eh... let's just call Jamal and Rick and get this show on the road...