Chapter 307: Value
"Barely."
Jerome stared at him for another second, then burst into a laugh so loud it made a few people nearby flinch. "Barely, he says. This guy says barely."
The room did not immediately return to normal after that.
How could it?
Kael had walked into the Climber Association as an unregistered rookie, taken off his shoes, buried his toes into reinforced marble, and punched harder than most high-floor bruisers could manage with gear. The staff tried to pretend procedure still had shape, but their eyes kept drifting toward the display. Twelve thousand seven hundred eighty-eight kilograms. It sat there like a problem. Not enough to beat Yenna’s higher-bracket record, but enough to make every person in the upper testing floor understand that something strange had just entered their building.
A few climbers came forward to congratulate him.
Not smoothly. Most were still too shocked for smoothness. Some clapped his shoulder, more carefully after seeing Jerome wince from his own friendly slap. Others told him he had a grand future ahead, that guilds would fight over him, that he should be careful choosing sponsorship, that physical specialists were rare, that with the right mana build he could become a frontline monster. One young woman with a spear across her back said he should contact her guild before the bigger ones tried to swallow him whole.
Kael humored them.
Mostly.
"Sure," he said to one climber explaining potential brand deals. "I’ll make sure my first priority after nearly dying for a month is merchandising."
The climber laughed, then realized Kael had not.
Jerome loved that.
The monitor did not. He was already holding his tablet like it had personally betrayed him, trying to reconcile Kael’s level, reported floor, physical output, and lack of guild registration into something that would not get him yelled at by three departments.
"Alright," the monitor said, clearing his throat. "Physical output is done."
"Are you sure?" Kael asked, glancing at the punching machine. "I have one attempt left."
"No."
"You said two attempts."
"I also said this machine would accurately account for your strength, and now the floor is cracked. Mana aptitude test next."
Kael looked faintly disappointed, but followed him.
The mana testing site occupied a quieter section of the upper floor. Unlike the physical stations, this area was clean, almost clinical. Several cylindrical crystals stood on metal pedestals, each as tall as a person and clear enough that one could see layers of faint light moving inside them. The walls were covered with calibration arrays and displays meant to record output, flow, density, attribute, purity, and several other terms Kael did not particularly care about.
The crowd followed at a distance anyway.
The monitor noticed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is not a show."
No one left.
Jerome leaned against a wall and crossed his arms, grinning like a man who had paid good money for a seat.
The tester assigned to the mana station was a different man, older, better dressed, and far more awake. He had clearly already heard what happened downstairs, because when Kael approached, his gaze went immediately to Kael’s hands, then his shoulders, then the tablet in the monitor’s grip.
"Standard mana aptitude measurement," the tester said, professional tone strained by curiosity. "Place your hand on the crystal. Do not force output unless instructed. Let your mana flow naturally."
Kael placed his palm against the cylinder.
The crystal did nothing.
Not dimly.
Not weakly.
Nothing.
The tester frowned and tapped the side panel. The array beneath the pedestal flashed once. He adjusted a setting and nodded. "Again."
Kael kept his hand where it was.
The crystal remained clear.
A display blinked.
[Measurement Failed.]
The tester’s frown disappeared.
His eyes widened instead.
Considering what had just happened at the physical station, his thoughts clearly moved in the wrong direction. He looked from the failed display to Kael, then back at the crystal, as if wondering whether the device had failed because the mana signature exceeded the expected chart. The monitor beside him looked similarly alarmed. A level one climber with impossible physical power and mana so high the device could not read it would be the sort of thing the Association did not let walk out casually.
The tester smiled, a little too quickly. "Congratulations, Mr. Ardent. It seems your mana aptitude is..."
He trailed off.
Kael’s face did not match the moment.
There was no pride. No surprise. No satisfaction. Just a blank, mildly annoyed expression, as if the crystal had confirmed something he already knew and found inconvenient.
The tester lowered his voice. "What is wrong?"
"I can’t use mana," Kael said.
The silence that followed was different from the one after his punch.
That silence had been awe.
This one was confusion curdling into disappointment.
The tester blinked. "Pardon?"
"I can’t use mana," Kael repeated. "Do you have anything that measures internal energy?"
The tester looked at the monitor.
The monitor looked at Jerome.
Jerome shrugged.
"What is internal energy?" the tester asked.
Kael considered the question.
There were many answers. Too many, really. He could talk about the Fist King, about breathing, channels, body refinement, pain, inner force, and the way his power moved through flesh and bone instead of mana pathways. He could explain how the Tower had taken a man with no magical future and shoved him onto a path Earth did not even have language for. He could also explain nothing, because every extra detail became a hook someone might try to pull.
So he gave the kind of answer that killed questions.
"Something you don’t want to awaken unless you enjoy coughing blood, breaking your bones from the inside, and spending days wondering if your organs are supposed to feel like hot sand."
The tester’s mouth closed.
Jerome, after a moment, said, "That sounds awful."
"It was."
"Effective though."
"Unfortunately."
The tester looked back at the crystal, then at his notes. "So you have no mana aptitude?"
"No usable mana," Kael said.
Someone in the gathered crowd whispered.
The mood shifted again.
Physical power was impressive. Spectacular, even. But the Climber Association and the guilds built much of their understanding on mana. Mana aptitude determined class direction, spell growth, enchantment compatibility, elemental affinities, support scaling, and long-term development. A climber without mana could grow strong for a time, sure. They could become a useful bruiser, a bodyguard, maybe a physical specialist. But most people believed a hard ceiling waited for them. Eventually the Tower demanded more than muscle. Eventually monsters became too strange to punch.
A few of the earlier congratulations became quieter.
One staff member murmured, "Not many are blessed like Vylan or Yenna."
Kael heard it.
He did not care much.
People had been explaining his limitations since Floor One. Runes were trash. Fire would burn him. Darkness would drain him. He could not use mana. His path was a dead end. The problem with dead ends was that Kael had developed a habit of punching through walls.
"When do I receive my certificate?" he asked.
The tester looked at him, still recalculating. "Please wait a moment. Your case requires review."
"Of course it does."
They did not leave him waiting long.
A man in a black suit arrived within minutes.
He was not large like Jerome, nor openly armed like most climbers. That made him more Association than fighter. Clean suit. Polished shoes. Neat hair. Calm smile. The kind of man who did not need to raise his voice because he usually had policy, money, and other people’s weapons behind him.
"Mr. Ardent," he said. "May I have a moment?"
Kael glanced at the monitor.
The monitor suddenly became very interested in his tablet.
Kael sighed. "Sure."
The man led him away from the testing floor and into an office room within the building. The room was comfortable without being soft. A desk, two chairs, city view, Association emblem on the wall, and enough hidden security that Kael noticed at least three reinforced panels and one warded corner before sitting down. The man took the opposite chair and folded his hands politely.
"My name is Adrian Hale," he said. "I work with Association talent development and climber support."
"Sounds expensive."
"It is," Adrian said, smiling. "But not for those we choose to support."
There it was.
Kael leaned back slightly.
Adrian continued, "Your case is unusual. Level one, Floor Nine clearance on record, extraordinary physical output, no registered guild, no previous Association identity, and signs of an alternative power system we do not properly understand. Under ordinary circumstances, your lack of mana would limit your prospects. However, your physical ability alone is far beyond any rookie bracket we have on record."
"Flattering."
"It is also practical," Adrian said. "The Association would like to extend an offer. Join us directly. We would nurture your talent, provide training, medical support, housing, controlled Tower access, gear development, and legal protection. You would climb with Association support rather than expose yourself to guild pressure too early."
Kael listened.
It was a good offer.
That was the annoying part. If he were a normal climber from the Tower of Trials, he might have considered it seriously. Support, housing, training, medical help, access to resources, and protection from predatory guilds were not small things. A year ago, he would have killed for something like that. Maybe not literally, but desperation made moral lines feel very negotiable.
Now he could not take it.
Association workers were not simply office climbers. They were field assets. They closed gates, managed emergencies, fought monsters when outbreaks happened, escorted weaker climbers, stabilized dungeon incidents, and answered requests both inside and outside the Tower’s influence. Joining them meant being available. It meant records, obligations, surveillance, training schedules, deployment orders.
Kael had one month.
Then the Tower of the Dead would drag him back whether Earth liked it or not.
And he could not explain that.
Torrac’s warning remained clear in his memory. Speaking of the second Tower meant immediate death, not only for him, but for anyone who learned the truth. The Tower of the Dead was not a secret protected by contracts. It was a secret protected by execution. One wrong sentence, one careless explanation, one attempt to tell the Association why he could not climb normally, and people in this building could die for knowing something they never asked to learn.
Kael shook his head.
"I appreciate it," he said. "But I can’t join."
Adrian’s smile faded only slightly. "May I ask why?"
"Personal reasons."
"We can accommodate many personal situations."
"Not this one."
"Guild conflict?"
"No."
"Medical obligation?"
"No."
"Family matter?"
Kael paused.
Adrian noticed.
Kael said, "Something like that. But the answer stays no."
Adrian studied him for a moment longer. He was good enough at his job not to push until the refusal hardened into hostility. Instead, he reached into his suit pocket and placed a black card on the desk, sliding it toward Kael.
"My direct contact," he said. "If you change your mind, call me. Even if you do not join, the Association can still provide certain services."
Kael took the card.
"Thanks."
"I mean it, Mr. Ardent. Guilds will come. Some politely. Some not. Be careful who offers help first."
Kael almost smiled. "That seems to be a common warning today."
"Then perhaps listen to it."
Before Kael could answer, someone knocked on the office door.
Adrian looked toward it. "Come in."
A woman entered carrying a small envelope and a laminated white card. She glanced at Kael with poorly hidden curiosity, then handed the card to Adrian, who gave it one brief look before sliding it across the desk.
"Your temporary climber identification has been issued," Adrian said. "Full digital registration will update within the hour."
Kael picked up the card.
His picture was on it, taken at the entrance without him noticing. That annoyed him more than it should have. Below it were his name, rank, and recorded floor.
[Kael Ardent]
[B-Class Climber]
[Floor 9]
....
B-Class.
He had expected lower. Maybe C, maybe D if they penalized him hard for having no mana. But the physical output had done its work. B-Class meant enough to open doors, enough to sell items properly, enough to draw attention he was not sure he wanted.
The woman who delivered the card spoke next. "With this, you can use Association facilities, training halls, medical support at climber rates, and market access. You may sell products directly to the Association, request auction listing for rare items, or purchase materials and equipment from registered suppliers across the world."
Kael looked up. "I’d like to see the marketplace."
The woman nodded immediately. "Of course. Please follow me."
Kael rose from the chair.
Adrian remained seated, watching him with the expression of a man who had failed to recruit something valuable but had not given up.
Kael slipped the white card into his pocket and followed the woman out.
The marketplace waited below.