I Don't Need To Log Out

While Arlon continued his journey through the Tower, events outside were unfolding.

It had been two months since he entered.

Two months since he sent his message to the group chat—just three simple words: Hunt the Demons.

It had sounded like an order. And in a way, it was. But the people in that group weren't just his subordinates.

They were the members of the Gamers guild, plus Maria, Evan, and Carmen.

June, of course, was still excluded.

But unlike in Arlon's last timeline, there had been a change.

Now, Maria, Evan, and Carmen weren't just allies. They were officially part of the Gamers guild.

And the Gamers guild itself had changed as well.

It was no longer just a collection of top players. It had become a true guild—one that people no longer spoke about as individuals but as a force.

Eight of the top ten players in the world were now in the Gamers guild.

The remaining two?

One of them was Arlon himself.

The other was a complete unknown—an unfamiliar name sitting at rank ten.

The forums were constantly buzzing with discussions about the Gamers guild. Every week, they did something that shook the world.

Their biggest accomplishments in the past two months were:

They had slain two Demons.

And they had defended three different starting towns from full-scale Keldar invasions—and won.

Arlon didn't know any of this.

Inside the Tower, he was completely disconnected from the outside world. But out here, the battle had already begun.

No, it would be more accurate to say that war had begun.

The Keldars had moved.

Their forces had launched attacks on multiple starting towns, turning them into battlegrounds.

Players were no longer just fighting to survive. They were fighting in an all-out war.

But the Gamers were there.

Thanks to them, only two Demons remained alive.

Demon Number One.

Demon Number Three.

And those two had survived for one reason—because Arlon had warned them in advance.

The Gamers knew not to engage. Not yet.

But that didn't mean they stood by and did nothing.

Whenever a battle broke out, they were there.

Fighting. Defending Trion.

Cooperating with Zephyrion and Trion's military.

They thought they were protecting the world.

They thought they were fighting the real war.

But what they didn't know was…

The real threat hadn't even arrived yet.

---

Arlon didn't stop moving.

He kept heading in the same direction.

Time passed.

A month.

Then a little more.

At last, he reached a point where the sound was barely audible.

But, unfortunately for him.

He still couldn't understand it. The speech was in a language he didn't know.

No, it wasn't speech. It was more like the screeching of the monsters inside the Tower.

But this was his only lead.

So, he moved forward.

Three more months passed.

The sound grew louder.

It was as if someone was talking beside him now.

At first, it was discomforting. The constant voice in his ears made his instincts flare, but there was nothing there.

After a day, he got used to it.

He continued.

More time passed.

Three more months.

The voice was even clearer now.

Louder.

It was as if someone with a strong voice was speaking directly into his ears.

But because the change had been so gradual, it didn't bother him as much as he expected.

Then, after almost a full year of moving, he saw it.

Something in the distance.

A house?

No, maybe a spaceship?

Or… was it just a pile of junk?

Arlon narrowed his eyes.

He couldn't tell.

It didn't match anything familiar to him. But it could be a home. A shelter. Maybe even a structure from another world.

So, he moved toward it.

That's when he noticed something strange.

Two things.

First, even now, his detection spells picked up nothing.

No structure. No presence. Nothing.

The house—or whatever it was—shouldn't exist.

Second, the moment he reached the home, exactly a year after he had started walking—which was another weird thing.

The sound stopped.

Silence.

Pure silence.

For the first time in a year, his ears were free of the constant voice.

He exhaled, realizing only now how much of a burden it had been.

The endless whisper, the presence always at his side—

It had been torture.

Now that it was gone, the relief washed over him.

But that wasn't important right now.

He turned back to the structure in front of him.

Instead of walking in, he knocked on the door.

It was physical. Real. Solid beneath his knuckles.

Yet, for some reason, he still couldn't detect it.

He waited.

Then, a sound came. The sound of footsteps.

Something approached from inside.

Then the door creaked open.

What stood on the other side was... a monster.

One just like the ones in the Tower.

And then, the sound returned.

But this time, it was coming from the monster.

Arlon jumped back, immediately taking a battle stance.

The monster in front of him raised a hand.

It was shaking.

A greeting? A sign of peace?

Maybe.

On Earth, it would mean the monster didn't want to fight. But Arlon wasn't an idiot.

If he accepted something so simple from an enemy he couldn't even detect, he might as well walk straight into a trap.

So, he didn't stop.

He moved.

His sword was already in his hands, pulled from his inventory in a blink.

Then, he cast Haste.

His body surged with speed.

At the same time, he cast Slow—on the ground beneath him.

He had learned something new. Even though he still couldn't slow his enemies directly during combat, he had found ways to use the spell creatively.

By slowing the dirt, he increased the friction beneath his feet. His footing became firmer, preventing even the slightest slip.

And that was just the start.

With his footing secured, he activated Ironbound Surge.

A technique from his past life. One he had created but never perfected.

That flaw had been fixed long ago.

By manipulating his body weight dynamically, he could make himself nearly weightless when his feet touched the ground—then suddenly increase his weight mid-jump.

The shift created massive momentum, turning him into an unstoppable force.

And now, with time magic enhancing it further, it was truly perfected.

Less friction. More controlled movement. Even greater force.

The skill had always been tanky, built for heavy impacts. But it wasn't something he used often. Not unless it was absolutely necessary.

This time, it was.

He moved at a speed that would have been impossible for him just a few Tower years ago.

The air split around him.

In the next instant, he reached the monster.

Then, he activated Night Rend.

A technique he had developed before Floor 50.

A fusion of Dark magic, Mana Surge, and his Slash skill—enhanced with extreme cutting force and speed.

He wasn't going to hold back.

Against a monster he couldn't detect, going all out was the only choice.

His blade struck.

And then—

Aetherion's Edge shattered...