The Fighting Tower was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Its name was a misnomer in the truest sense. It looked like a tower—tall, imposing, and narrow in appearance—but the structure had no traditional levels. When you looked up, you saw a vast ceiling, so high it seemed more like a massive, distorted dome than any kind of floor structure. It was as though the very fabric of space was stretched, warped by whatever architecture or magic was responsible for its creation.
This place was built to test hunters, yes, but it was also a marvel of design in its own right. The spatial compression it housed made the interior feel both expansive and claustrophobic at once, like stepping into a pocket dimension. There were hidden, maze-like features throughout—twists, turns, and secret routes that could either help or hinder depending on how well you navigated them. In essence, it wasn't just a physical exam ground, it was a mental and strategic one too.
But the most important and hidden feature of the Fighting Tower was its ability to record data. No one openly talked about it, but anyone with even a slight understanding of the Tower knew its true purpose. It wasn't just about physical prowess. The Tower was designed to study aura techniques—every move, every shift in energy, every ounce of power exerted in combat or testing—it all got recorded. Like a laboratory of sorts, but one without the need for a lab coat or any kind of overt examination. It analyzed hunters at their core, taking in everything from their power usage to their strategy, even down to how they thought.
Not everyone knew that, though. The Chairman and a select few were aware of this hidden function. It wasn't something you were told outright, and it certainly wasn't something you agreed to before entering the Tower. Technically, they didn't need your consent to study you. It felt invasive, almost like a breach of trust, like they were taking notes on your every weakness and strength without your permission. It was a bit unfair, in a way, but there wasn't much that could be done about it. You could keep your techniques under wraps, but the Tower would still record them, document them, and dissect them.
But despite the unease of it all, I wasn't overly worried. I wasn't the type to flaunt my techniques, but I also wasn't naive enough to believe anyone could simply copy what I did just by observing. Techniques could only be truly understood by experiencing them firsthand—facing them down, pushing through, and learning from them. Copying wasn't so simple.
I looked up at the massive screen above the main hall. It displayed the rankings for the exam, and the number of participants was staggering—128 hunters had entered this trial. I had to squint to see where I stood. From the last exam, I ranked 99th—cutting it too close for comfort. Black's placement right above mine, at 98th. Selena had fared better, landing in 52nd.
It was a relief to see we'd all made it this far, but I couldn't ignore the fact that I was hovering near the bottom. There was no room for complacency. If I was going to continue moving forward in this competition, I needed to step it up.
The giant screen flickered for a moment before the image of Chairman Bob filled the entire display. His bald head gleamed under the overhead lights, and his dorky red cape fluttered ever so slightly despite there being no apparent breeze. His awkwardly placed lenses did nothing to mask his confusion as he looked into the camera, clearly trying to get the hang of the setup.
"Hello?" he said, voice unsure, tapping the lenses like they were some malfunctioning gadget. He squinted as if expecting the technology to cooperate with him.
"Hello? Is it working?" His voice echoed in the quiet hall, but there was no immediate response, and for a brief moment, it seemed like we might all be stuck in awkward silence.
Then, another voice chimed in—an exasperated but amused one. "It is working already, chairman. Do your thing."
Bob straightened up, cleared his throat theatrically, and gave the camera a forced smile. "Ah, yes! Right, thank you!" He paused as if trying to regain his composure, before continuing in his usual over-enthusiastic manner. "Congratulations on passing the exam! Well done, hunters!" His hands waved in the air like he was trying to shake away the previous confusion. "Anyways, you can rest for today. Tomorrow, we'll proceed to the next stage. If you need food or water, just fall in line in front of the vending machine." He paused for effect. "Okay, buh-bye!"
With that, the chairman's face vanished from the screen, leaving behind a blank space.
For a moment, there was a collective silence, and then the spotlight shifted, illuminating the vending machine in the corner of the room. It stood tall, about my height, with sleek, futuristic lines and holographic visuals dancing across its surface. I sighed, already knowing what was coming.
A few of the hunters looked at it curiously, not sure what to make of the machine. To them, it probably seemed like a normal vending machine, but I knew better. It was far from ordinary.
The machine was connected to the World Path—a vast and intricate network that could teleport goods from all over the place, including food, beverages, and other necessities, straight from another location. It was an advanced technology the Association had recently developed, and they'd set up a few of these machines in the Forbidden Region. These machines were meant to help hunters survive in the wild by allowing them to restock remotely, avoiding the need for traditional supplies. Still, it was highly classified tech, and only a handful of people knew how it worked.
I glanced around, noticing the lack of recognition on most of the other hunters' faces. None of them knew how it worked, except for me. Most likely, they'd be cautious about using it, unsure of what it might offer or how it would function. They'd learn soon enough. I could already tell that some of them were eyeing it suspiciously, wondering if it was some kind of trick.
After all, the damn thing was thick with aura.
Black approached the vending machine, looking somewhat intrigued but mostly cautious. As he did, I couldn't help myself and called out, "Hey, grab me some carbonara while you're at it!"
Just as I finished, Selena chimed in from across the room, a hint of playful demand in her voice. "And I'll take a burger!"
Black paused mid-step, turning slowly to look at us with his usual deadpan expression hidden behind his shades, but I could feel the wave of exasperation radiating from him. He didn't say anything, but his silence spoke volumes, as if he were mentally debating whether he should pretend not to hear us.
I noticed that the other hunters had quickly caught on to the vending machines' potential, and now a long line was forming at each one. They stood in neat, parallel rows, a dozen of the machines lined up in an orderly formation. Some hunters glanced around nervously, waiting their turn, while others were already rummaging through the selection, looking impressed and, in some cases, bewildered.
Geoffrey sauntered over, exuding an air of overconfidence, and of course, Atropos trailed right beside him. He had that familiar smirk plastered on his face, the one that screamed, 'I know something you don't.'
"Ah, my friend!" Geoffrey said with as much fake charm as he could possibly muster. "How are you faring? I trust you haven't forgotten about our little wager?"
Selena glanced at me with raised eyebrows. "What wager?"
"Geoffrey and I made a bet about what the test for this stage would be," I explained, keeping my tone neutral. "Information for information. The catch was, it'd only be collected if he guessed right."
Selena shrugged, clearly unimpressed. "So, did he win?"
But her focus shifted, and she locked eyes with Atropos.
I remarked, "We'll know about that soon."
Selena crossed her arms and looked squarely at Atropos. "Shouldn't you be in the staff wing? Not getting mixed up in all this?" she asked.
Atropos, as impassive as ever, gave a slight nod. "I merely wanted to hang out," she said in her monotone voice. Then she added, "I'm here to judge the bet between Reynard and Geoffrey." Her words cut through the murmurs of the nearby hunters, and Geoffrey immediately perked up.
"Yes, yes, let's get on with the show," he said with a wave of his hand, clearly eager.
Atropos held up the metal box with an air of authority, the sound of its clinks catching everyone's attention. She opened it, revealing two folded pieces of paper inside. Holding up the first slip, she announced, "This paper is Geoffrey's. He guessed with accuracy that the next exam would be Caster-themed, with racing as the mode of competition."
Geoffrey flashed a wide grin, already reveling in his "win" as he leaned a little too close, "So… I'll gladly take my prize."
"Not yet," I said, my voice laced with smugness. I grinned at him, waiting for the real kicker. "The winner was the one with more accurate information, remember?"
Geoffrey's smile wavered, but he held his poker face well enough as he crossed his arms, waiting.
Atropos pulled out the second slip, holding it up for the audience. "This paper is Reynard's," she said, her voice resonating through the crowd. "He guessed with accuracy that the next exam would be Caster-themed, with racing as a mode of competition—with the Fighting Tower as the finish line and the airship as the starting line."
There was a quiet ripple through the crowd as Geoffrey's expression flickered, a subtle clench of his jaw betraying him. He was holding onto his composure, but I could tell he was seething beneath that poker face. I didn't bother holding back my grin.
Geoffrey let out a long sigh, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to me. The paper had the look of something prepared ahead of time—its edges slightly worn from being handled, probably in anticipation of this moment.
With a forced smile, Geoffrey said, "I hope this settles things between us. I admit I was wrong to speak ill of your wife. I won't do it again." He paused, his expression almost sincere. "Besides, I was planning to give you this information one way or another. Just figured I might get more out of it with this little wager… Who wouldn't want a favor from the King of Favors, after all?"
I frowned. "King of Favors?"
He chuckled, clearly enjoying the way I didn't seem to know my own reputation. "It's what they're calling you. Apparently, word's been spreading fast among hunters that a whole lot of them owe you favors. They're even saying that the airship captain owes you… what was it? Eleven favors?"
Beside me, Selena's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Eleven? That's a bit much, don't you think?"
I kept my face impassive. Of course, it was true. But they didn't need to know that.