Rafael Kingsley organised his belongings as he had before. He needed to keep moving now that he'd had a rest. First though, to equip the new portable wardrobe.

He felt it as a new thread was added to his soul realm. He also watched it a bit, but the thread disappeared past the darkness covered edges. It was one of those things his low level barred him from. Well that did not matter. He mentally tried to call for the new armour he'd been promised. Nothing happened.

Then he remembered his sword and how he was supposed to use mana to change its shape.

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully as he eyed the amethyst core.

He hadn't ever practiced morphing his sword, but he'd done it in the previous room. He'd done it without thinking. Instinctively.

He checked his mana. It wasn't fully recovered, but he didn't have that dastardly headache from before, so it was probably fine. He hoped. It was time to experiment.

He sat down and crossed his legs. Then he closed his eyes and started to meditate. Nothing. He opened them not even thirty seconds in.

"Shit! How the hell am I supposed to do this again? Right…I don't know! And I don't like meditation either."

Rafe sat back with a huff. He was still butt naked.

He did remember how Devila and the others used magic. He just couldn't seem to get it to function the same way. They used spells. After saying the incantation or whatever, their internal mana would be mobilized, and then it would come out and meet the ambient mana and transform it into the requisite elemental affinity and thus produce a spell.

Most of the spell weavers he'd seen, Devila exclusive, had aspected mana in them. The ambient mana was unaspected, hence their mana would have to influence the ambient and give it a new affinity. Then the spell would proceed to produce whatever effect had been programmed into it.

Devila on the other hand used pure mana internally. It would have been expensive to use pure mana for specific elements, say fire redspells, especially at F-rank. So Devila used talismans to compensate. It had taken Rafe some time to realise.

Basically the talismans had a core like he'd seen in his new necklace. The inside of the core was made of ambient mana and essence, and its coat was made up of Devila's own mana she sacrificed while making the talismans. Then there were the runes of course, programming the talisman and commanding its function. Devila releasing mana into the talisman was like flipping on a switch or starting a timer on a bomb.

The problem was, Devila was a prodigy at mana manipulation. The enchantress had been one too. Still, Rafe had watched Devila use her mana a lot. He didn't know how she visualised everything, but he knew what it looked like.

He knew what it looked like when the mana pool was roused. He just had to do that. To rouse it, get it to release a bit of mana, and then manipulate that mana into his necklace. How hard could that be?

It turns out very was an appropriate answer in this case. It was very hard. Once he touched that side of his soul realm, the side he'd never touched before, all hell broke loose. Sure he did manage to get his mana pool to activate. The problem was, it released every drop of his one hundred odd mana he'd just recovered.

The ensuing headache which he had never needed to get used to ensured he didn't even remember why he'd antagonised his mana pool in the first place.

"Damnit," he cried as he was forced to take another rest.

He did not have time for this.

He was in time dilation though, and all he had was time. He could afford to rest for a bit. He couldn't afford to leave any advantages on the table. He needed some armour if the next floor was what he and Andragoth had theorised.

It took him two more attempts. On the last attempt he was fully refueled and so didn't waste every drop of mana in his reservoir. He found that once free of his body and soul, the mana was quickly devoured and assimilated by the ambient mana in his surroundings. He was fast enough to get a trickle of it into his necklace though, and that was enough to get the accessory to activate.

A barely visible shimmer later, and Rafe found himself dressed in thin steel chains fashioned into a simple dress shirt over some old fashioned shirt and leather breeches.

"Huh. It's actually not that bad."

And it had a lot of functionality as well. A passable fashion statement, if he said so himself.

"Now, how the hell do I stuff my favourite priest robes in there and how do I get it to give me some specs?"

First off, after putting the armour on, the necklace disappeared, replaced fully by the armour. The amethyst core and its metallic coating didn't though. It stood prominently displayed at the centre of his chest.

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He grabbed his folded robe and put it on the amethyst. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the thread of the equipment attached to his soul and—

The familiar feeling of the robes disappeared from his hands. He opened his eyes and stared at his empty hand.

Then he grinned and started to tinker with the thread.

"Now, how do I get it to…? Ahhh. I'm sure this isn't how these are meant to work," he said to himself.

Not everyone could view their soul at the F-rank after all. Liam had also told him how something familiar, his sword, would have functioned.

It must have been obvious for most people who had grown up in the multiverse. Him? He had no option but to complicate these little details.

Rafe shrugged in the end. He had managed to change into his white robes and he had confirmed his robes could harden as if they were made of steel and that he could use the skill from the armour whenever he required and that the specs and stats had already transfered. The necklace was still only a core prominently displayed on his chest.

With nothing more to distract him, Rafe lifted his head and stared at the doors ahead of him. It was time to choose his next floor. It was also time to confirm if what he feared was possible. He gulped, suddenly nervous.

Every step forward sent his body tingling. He was aware of every moment. He collected all his equipment and tacked them away, including the new technique book he'd found out detailed the enchantress and Devila's footwork for their dance-like sword play. His spatial skill scroll was present as well. His potions too.

After checking his three weapons and everything, he took the first step and the next and the next. He counted. There were only nine steps to the wall of doors.

"And so I give you my soul, oh fate. In your cruel hands I leave my heart. Treat me well."

It was a moot prayer. Fate could not protect him from what was coming. It had been decided the moment Sam convinced him to go as high as he could in this here tower.

He chose a door with a red gem. He had been told it did not. He wanted to choose white, but then he was going to have to choose that for the last floor anyway.

'Ding' Floor four entered.

Floor theme: one versus one ranking battles.

Side Quest received.

Objective: Displace the top ranker. Climb higher than anyone ever has.

Floor objective: Climb the stairs ahead. Each landing will contain a challenger of old who made it to that level. Defeat them and climb until you can't anymore. Where you stop is your ranking. Good luck, challenger.

He read through the notifications. He looked forward to the decrepit tower ahead of him. There was a non-descript person standing in front of a flight of stairs that looked to circle the ever tapering tower. The stairs were wound around the building like the thread of a screw.

Rafe let out a breath. He wanted to cry, to rail against the injustice of it all. He could not. All he could do was stand there and study the behemoth. Andragoth had been right. The images were made for this challenge. This was their purpose.

Would he see any of them again? He did not know. He did not know anything.

He took one step forward, another. He was four feet away when he realised why the person was so nondescript. Why they weren't moving or showing any signs of life. It was just a black outline of a person. He stepped forward once again, twice, thrice. Only one step separated them.

That was when the shadow started to shift, to change. The face resolved into about a hundred different faces, some he'd even seen before, some male and some female. In the end it settled into a burly man, not very tall, red haired and with a protruding belly. He held a huge war axe and had a lot of facial hair. Rafe found he could picture the man growing his goatee longer and styling it a bit.

"So you're my first challenger, huh?" the man spoke loudly, boisterously even.

"I am," Rafe replied. "Do you have Dwarven blood, by any chance?"

"Aye. What about it?" the man asked as he got into a fighting stance.

"Nothing," Rafe replied. "Do you mind if I take some time to put a few of my things away? Might get in the way of us having a fair fight."

The man shrugged. "Sure, go for it. I'm all for fighting you at your full strength anyway."

Rafe carefully put most of his possessions away. The skill scroll, his large hammer, his sword even, his technique manual and his potions.

This battle floor was a free kind of fight. There had been no rules provided by anyone or anything. It just gave a floor theme. Rafe was starting to realise most dungeons did not come with guidelines. They just threw you into the deep end. Figuring out what you were supposed to do was supposed to be part of the fun it seemed. Well, Rafe had a built in spoiler. He also had a new spoiler he needed to test.

Name: Ravarl Aeflin

Class: Axe warrior (rare lvl. 54)

Race: Human

Highest stat: Strength: 152

Strongest skill: Absolute might (epic lvl. 42) Consume both stamina and mana to double the effect of strength for thirty seconds. Duration increases with increase in mana. Consume stamina for a 1.2 times boost to strength for two minutes. Duration increases with increase in stamina.

Other skills: Sacrifice more mana for more information.( It is ill advised.)

Yeah, even without the last warning tag, Rafe had seen more than enough. He could see the classes of others, their strongest stat, their strongest and probably most used skill. He could gauge their strength. It was a cheat on so many levels.

And yet this was the first level of this stair or whatever it was. The very bottom which according to what he could tell had thousands of images. The bottom landing had a person this much stronger than him. Who was the strongest person Skyholm ever trained? How much stronger than him would they be?

He didn't let himself duel on his thoughts, especially because he had his suspicions. He had a luck stat unlocked, damnit! How the hell was he this unlucky? He shook his head again, trying to not think. To just be. He looked at his opponent, his eyes now sharp.

"A bloody toothpick?!" the man frowned. "I'd rather you use the sword. You have a bloody hammer!"

Rafe only crouched.

"This is my best weapon currently," and it was true.

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