I roll my shoulders and tilt my head side to side, working out the lingering stiffness clinging to my muscles like a bad status effect.

From my TOOLS/ITEMS, I pull out a mid-tier healing potion. One quick gulp, and warmth spreads through me like sunlight through cold glass. It smooths out the aches and patches me back up to full HP.

I exhale slow, calmer now. My eyes drift up to the sky.

From the first to the ninth floor, this tower’s been a relentless grind. An unending string of trials and barely-won victories. Every conquest feels like a fleeting blip, instantly steamrolled by the looming threat of the next floor. Days blur under the tower’s cruel tempo.

But I make a point of tracking one thing.

My deaths.

Yeah. My own personal scoreboard.

A lesson engraved into the dirt, blood, and digital cruelty of this place. Proof the tower doesn’t just wanna challenge me. It wants to break me.

And don’t even get me started on the tower’s so-called ONLINE STORE.

Especially the GUNNER class weapon options.

It’s like the system’s got a personal grudge, flinging joke-tier items at me like I’m the sad punchline in a slapstick RPG.

The latest offering? A handgun that fires rubber bullets.

Rubber. Freaking. Bullets.

“Is this a joke?” I mutter the first time it pops up.

I laugh. Bitter. Maybe a little unhinged.

It’s not just bad. It’s insulting.

But instead of rage-quitting, something sparks.

A wild little idea.

My basic slingshot’s not cutting it anymore. Not with the enemies on the upper floors getting nastier and smarter. I need something better.

Smarter. Weirder.

That spark flared into a full-blown plan back when I hit the second floor and wandered into a massive bamboo grove.

The stalks sway gently in the breeze, tall and calm like ancient monks. They remind me of that school trip to the Kyushu Olle Miyama-Kiyomizuyama course.

Peaceful. Humbling. Kind of makes you want to take a deep breath and do something meaningful.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, a memory clicks into place.

A documentary on DIY PVC slingshots.

Bingo.

I dive into the ONLINE STORE and rage-purchase the essentials.

A hammer. Nails. Chisel. Sandpaper. Heavy-duty rubber band. Handsaw. And… a toy gun.

Trust the process. I start my borderline obsessive homebrewed R&D session.

I pick out two bamboo stalks from the grove, noting their slightly different diameters. That’s the key.

Then I get to work.

Hours blur by in a mess of sawdust, splinters, and swear words. The smaller stalk becomes the barrel. The larger one? The front handle. I fit it with a tiny pulley for auto-reloading. I carve grooves into the barrel so the pouch glides smoothly, and with a bit of creative tinkering, I hijack the trigger mechanism from the toy gun and wire it into the setup.

Two seconds. Reload and fire. Clean.

And just like that, the SlingBam is born.

I hold it up, grinning at my handiwork like a mad inventor. Smooth. Balanced. Deadly.

Apparently, the System agrees, because a blue panel pops up right then.

“+15 INT for ‘Ingenuity.’”

Hell. Yes.

My stats spike.

My hard-on for innovation? Spikes harder.

If this’s what I get for a slingshot, just imagine the INT boost I could score with a DIY handgun…

But that’s a future project.

For now, the SlingBam’s mine. And it’s glorious.

Next to the SlingBam, though, there’s another MVP in my gear lineup.

I look down at my boots.

And damn, they’re beautiful.

________________________________________

Puss In Boots

Type: Legendary

Description: The fairy tale magical boots worn by the sly and lewd cat.

DEX: +60

INT: +35

WIS: +20

LCK: +15

Advantages:

·       Enhanced agility and cunning: Exceptional dexterity and intelligence empower the wearer to outsmart opponents and achieve their goals through wit and stealth.

·       Stealth: Steps become silent, aiding in stealth and evasion.

·       Balance: Improved balance and agility facilitate the traversal of difficult terrain.

·       Increased Speed: Running speed is significantly enhanced.

·       Dexterity: Overall dexterity is improved, aiding in nimble movements. Reaction time is reduced, proving useful in combat situations.

Disadvantages:

·       Player may become lecherous over time.

________________________________________

If the shopping mall back in my world sold boots like these, crime rates would skyrocket. No way the police force could keep up with anyone wearing them.

Seriously, these boots aren’t a joke. They hug my feet like they were custom-forged by some stylish foot god, and every step feels like I’m gliding.

Not walking. Gliding.

The moment I slip them on, I know I’ve stumbled into gear-tier greatness.

Let’s be real—

If some street punk back home had these, every chase scene would end with cops wheezing five blocks behind. These aren’t just boots.

They’re liberation with laces.

I smirk, cocky and content.

Who needs a getaway car when you’ve got kicks like these?

Yeah, the tower keeps flinging crap at me, but now? Now I’m not just surviving. I’m starting to thrive.

Even if the item description for the boots was… well, let’s say questionable, I don’t care.

“Puss In Boots” quickly becomes my favorite piece of gear. Sleek, stylish, absurdly comfy, and packed with buffs. The perfect combo of fashion and function. I strut around like I own the floors. And let’s be honest, at this point, I kind of do.

But those boots aren’t the only gift the glitch gods hand me.

Thanks to the time-warp screwery that keeps flinging me back to square one, I’ve racked up a pretty ridiculous pile of gold. Every reset throws me straight into farming mode. Monsters mean loot. Weapons. Materials. Sellable junk. Rinse and repeat.

Basically? Capitalism with respawn timers.

The best part? Every run makes me sharper. Stronger. More of a menace. I learn their patterns, their tells, their weak spots. How to bait the Akai and outpace the Kiiroi.

It’s like Groundhog Day, but with more stabbing and zero charm.

And on top of the gold, my stat points have been stacking up like passive-aggressive savings.

STR and DEX? Solid.

WIS? Skyrocketed, thanks to all the traps and ambush setups I’ve pulled off.

Remember that first-floor ogre? Took him down with a double trap.

Three WIS points. Boom. Genius status—unlocked.

Then there’s LCK.

I’ve got a theory about that. The System must be tossing me pity points every time I pull off some insane Hail Mary move that absolutely should’ve gotten me killed. Like, Here, you reckless idiot. Have a few points for surviving on vibes and dumb luck.

And then… the time thing.

This tower’s broken every law of logic, yet somehow, I’m the one thing it won’t touch. I’ve spent what feels like six years stuck in this digital purgatory, but I still look eighteen. No wrinkles. No gray hairs. Just eternal teenage dysfunction with a side of attitude.

Honestly? I don’t even mind it.

I’ve made peace with the whole thing. The eternal teenager gig.

Frozen in time, but grinding XP like a lunatic on an energy drink binge. Could be worse. I could be aging like spoiled milk in a microwave.

Anyway, here I am, kicking back in a rickety old chair I swiped from the goblin base on the ninth floor. Boots up, arms crossed, just soaking in the stillness like it’s a rare buff drop.

The boss fight from earlier? Still buzzing in my bones. I swear I can feel the firestones going off, like somebody replaced my bloodstream with a fireworks factory.

Those things saved my ass.

The Hiishi, basically grenade-tier ammo I unlocked after clearing the fifth floor, is insane. One hit and boom. Fire, impact, chaos. Perfect for turning enemies into smoldering projectiles.

Messy, but effective.

Not cheap, though.

Ishi costs one gold. Kōkyū? Three. Hiishi? A wallet-melting fifty gold per shot.

But hey, I’m swimming in cash, man.

Call it inflation. Call it progress. Call it revenge-fueled entrepreneurship. I don’t care.

With my SlingBam in one hand and Hiishi ready to summon mid-fight, I’m basically a walking natural disaster wrapped in sarcasm and explosions.

And for the first time since getting dumped into this digital hellscape, I don’t just have a fighting chance, I’m calling the shots and riding the chaos like I’ve got it on a leash.

I take a deep breath and scan the stronghold again. The place is toast.

Burned-out structures. Blood-slick floors. Bodies scattered like someone rage-quit a tabletop game and knocked over all the miniatures. This stronghold held at least a hundred goblin soldiers.

Most of ’em? Basic Common Goblins. Then a dozen Hobgoblins. And about twenty Goblin Riders thrown in for flavor. Real Saturday morning cartoon lineup, minus the theme song and the part where the heroes win.

Lucky for me, the Shadow Goblins didn’t show up. If they had, I’d be nothing but a dark smear on the wall.

Those guys aren’t just tough. They’re nightmares with poisoned daggers. Stealthy, silent, impossible to track until it’s way too late to scream.

But hey, not everything sucks.

After taking enough stabs to make a cactus jealous (and getting my life reset every damn time), I finally unlocked a default skill: Poison Resistance.

Silver lining.

Not bad for a guy finally learning to appreciate the perks of not dying.

I pop open the STATUS WINDOW.

Looks like the Portal feature finally kicked in after I took down the first-floor boss.

Yeah, it’s basically fast travel. But of course, it comes with strings attached.

You can only jump one floor up or down.

Once a day. No combat warping. No high-speed getaways. Definitely no mid-boss panic ports while screaming like a wimp.

So… less “freedom,” more “strategic pain in the ass.”

Still, I’ll take it.

Beside the System teleportation, there’s another way to bounce—Teleportation Scrolls.

They’re pricey.

The mass scrolls? Total lifesavers. They let you warp an entire group to any unlocked floor or pinpoint location.

Even better? You can exclude people by name.

Yeah. That’s right. You can literally write someone out of your escape plan.

“Sorry, Greg. Maybe next time.”

My eyes drift over the wreckage, landing on the crumpled corpse of Thrognak the Earthbinder, the ninth-floor boss.

A Goblin Shaman with magic that bends reality like it’s his birthright.

The guy nearly broke me. His spells didn’t just hit hard. They warped the battlefield, scrambled the rules like a cheat code gone rogue.

Beating him took two full resets.

Two.

The ninth floor was just the warm-up.

What the hell’s waiting for me on the tenth?

And after that? Lizardmen territory.

What’s this game even building toward?

I feel that familiar flicker of dread creep in.

That whisper in the back of my head telling me I’m in too deep.

But I shut it down. Fast.

I’ve come too far for that kind of noise.

The glitch is still ticking along in the background, quietly stacking the odds in my favor.

Not just a bug.

It’s my secret weapon.

My silent co-op partner.

My ace in the cheat-coded hole.

I flex my fingers, still buzzing from the Hiishi rounds.

Those explosive shots were the only reason Thrognak isn’t still breathing. Expensive as hell, but worth every coin.

If I’m gonna keep moving forward, I’ll need more. A lot more.

I stand up, boots creaking against the blood-soaked floor, and walk toward the portal.

It shimmers in the low light, pulsing with a quiet, iridescent glow, like it knows I’m coming.

The rules haven’t changed.

Beat the floor boss. Wait out the cooldown. Climb again.

The system’s not handing me wins. I fight for every damn one.

With Thrognak down and Floor Nine behind me, there’s only one goblin boss left between me and the next circle of hell.

The big one. Final checkpoint of the Goblin floors.

After that? No roadmap. No guide. Just the great, glitchy unknown.

I glance back one last time—

At the wreckage, the quiet, the scorched aftermath of that bloodbath.

Then I step through the portal.

Whatever’s waiting on Floor Ten…

Bring it.