LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 61: 1st Floor II
The First Floor of the Tower was a hub of activity, serving as a critical starting point for all climbers. Its vast expanse combined practicality with grandeur, creating a place where adventurers from every corner of the world could find their footing.
The first place Leon found himself in was the Market area.
The Market Area was a vibrant and sprawling center of trade, buzzing with life as climbers from all walks of life bartered, browsed, and haggled. Colorful banners and canopies stretched across the open streets, casting shifting shadows over the bustling crowd. Vendors, each more animated than the next, shouted out to advertise their unique wares, their voices blending into a harmonious cacophony that spoke of opportunity and ambition.
The wide cobblestone streets were flanked by rows of stalls, each offering an array of items tailored to meet the needs of Tower climbers. Basic provision vendors sold dried meats, bread, and water skins, all essential for survival in the Tower's unpredictable environments. A few stalls specialized in restorative potions, their liquids glowing faintly in the sunlight, boasting benefits like increased strength, quicker reflexes, and rapid healing. The potions were neatly arranged in rows, their bright colors catching the eyes of passing adventurers.
Blacksmiths were hard at work, their hammers ringing against anvils as they shaped glowing metal into swords, axes, and shields. Some had weapons displayed on racks—gleaming swords adorned with runes, bows reinforced with monster sinew, and armor imbued with defensive enchantments. Each piece seemed tailored to a specific race or fighting style, catering to the diverse needs of climbers. The rhythmic clang of metal blended seamlessly with the hum of conversation, making the air hum with purpose and potential.
Further into the market, a few stalls stood out with their exotic offerings. Enchanted accessories, like rings that boosted mana regeneration or necklaces that increased resistance to poison, sparkled under the sunlight, their allure undeniable. Vendors selling magical scrolls proudly displayed parchment imbued with elemental spells, offering instant power to those who could afford it. Monster hunters had set up shop as well, showcasing rare materials from the Tower's higher floors—fangs, claws, and hides that pulsed faintly with residual energy. Adventurers crowded these stalls, debating the value of a monster's venom sac or the utility of a basilisk's petrified eye.
The air was thick with the enticing aroma of food, luring climbers to pause and indulge. Roasted meats, spiced skewers, and sizzling sausages were grilled on open flames, their juices dripping into the fire and releasing mouthwatering scents. Sweet pastries glazed with honey and dusted with powdered sugar tempted passersby with their golden sheen. A few vendors offered regional delicacies, such as fermented drinks, spiced soups, and fruits preserved in syrup. For the more adventurous, some stalls specialized in dishes made from Tower-specific ingredients, like the tender meat of Floor 5 Flame Boars or broths brewed with Moonlit Mushrooms from Floor 7.
Musicians dotted the market, their lively tunes adding to the energetic atmosphere. Drummers, lute players, and flutists entertained climbers, often earning a few coins for their efforts. Street performers showcased their skills: an elemental mage conjuring miniature firework displays, a rogue performing acrobatic stunts, and a beast tamer showing off their trained pets to the delight of onlookers. The crowd surged with excitement, and laughter filled the air, giving the market an almost festival-like ambiance.
Leon moved through the bustling hub, his eyes scanning the stalls and the crowd, taking in the sights, sounds, and scents. Each step brought a new temptation—a dazzling weapon, a glimmering trinket, or the promise of a meal unlike any he had tasted before.
Leon casually bought a meat stick as he continued his tour to next area which was the inn section.
The inn district was a welcome reprieve from the bustling chaos of the market. Though quieter, it carried its own charm, offering weary adventurers a chance to rest and recharge. The cobbled streets were lined with buildings of varying sizes and designs, each bearing a unique signboard swaying gently in the breeze. Names like The Restful Blade, Skyward Retreat, and Traveler's Haven promised warmth and comfort within, enticing climbers to pause their arduous journeys.
Leon strolled through the district, his steps slowing as he observed the inns. Some were modest structures, with wooden signs carved by hand and simple banners announcing their services. These inns catered to climbers on a budget, offering shared rooms with bunk beds, hearty but basic meals, and little else. The windows flickered with the warm glow of candlelight, and soft laughter occasionally spilled out into the streets, giving them a homely, unpretentious air.
Other inns were far more luxurious, their facades polished and adorned with intricate carvings. Gleaming lanterns lined their entrances, casting golden light on paths paved with smooth stones. These establishments were built for wealthier adventurers, the ones who could afford private suites, gourmet meals, and even personal attendants to cater to their every need. Leon paused outside one such inn, its grand entrance guarded by two imposing figures clad in fine armor. A fountain bubbled softly in the courtyard beyond, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the open windows.
Stepping into one of the more modest inns, The Restful Blade, Leon was greeted by a wave of warmth. A large hearth crackled in the corner, its orange flames casting dancing shadows across the wooden beams of the ceiling. The scent of roasted meat and spiced ale filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of fresh straw. Climbers of all kinds sat around sturdy wooden tables, their conversations a medley of stories, strategies, and boasts. The atmosphere was lively but not overwhelming, a perfect blend of camaraderie and respite.
The walls of the inn were adorned with notices pinned to corkboards. They listed group hunts for rare beasts, quests requiring skilled climbers, and challenges specific to certain floors. Leon skimmed one of the boards, his sharp eyes catching glimpses of intriguing opportunities. "Reward: Rare Flame Boar Tusks – Team Required for Floor 5 Hunt," one read. Another, scrawled hastily in red ink, warned, "Beware Floor 7: Reports of Enhanced Monsters – Proceed with Caution." These notices made it clear that inns were not just places to rest—they were strategic hubs where alliances were forged, knowledge was exchanged, and adventures began.
In one corner, a bard strummed a lute softly, singing a tale of a climber who had braved the Tower's highest floors. His voice added to the comforting hum of the room, blending seamlessly with the clink of tankards and the shuffle of boots on the wooden floor. Leon couldn't help but smile as a particularly boastful dwarf at the next table recounted a harrowing fight against a wyvern, his audience enraptured despite the obvious embellishments.
Roselia stepped in behind Leon, glancing around with an appraising eye. "It's cozy," she remarked, her voice carrying a note of approval. Her gaze lingered on a group of adventurers laughing loudly over a shared platter of food, their weapons leaning casually against the wall beside them.
She joined with him just few minutes earlier when both of the newborn fell asleep.
"Cozy and practical," Leon agreed, his fingers brushing over the hilt of his sword as he surveyed the room. "A place like this can make or break an adventurer. Rest, information, and connections—sometimes they're worth more than a sword."
Roselia nodded, her lips curving into a faint smile. "And the food doesn't look half bad either."
They found a corner table, ordering a simple meal while taking in the atmosphere. Together they sat as they ate together while they kept their ears open for any information.
Creak!!
The sudden opening of the door silenced the entire room. All eyes turned toward the newcomers as Leon and Roselia also shifted their attention.
The figures who entered were adorned in oversized robes, the hoods drawn low to obscure their faces, leaving only glimpses visible through the shadows.
"They're from the Saint Race... from the 130th floor," someone whispered, though the hushed words carried enough weight to be heard across the silent room, including by Leon and Roselia.
"But what are they doing here?"
"Don't you know? There's a human with an Ex-Rating in the trial right now," another person whispered urgently. "He's being courted by all the major races!"
"I heard some races are even offering to change his race entirely using the Chalice of Transformation," added another, their tone laced with awe and envy.
Leon's sharp eyes scanned the room as he took in the murmurs, watching as the Saint Race figures gracefully took their seats without sparing a glance at the attention they were drawing.
Roselia, observing them closely, frowned as a faint smirk played at her lips. "They reek," she thought to herself, her disdain sharp. She knew all too well—these so-called 'saints' weren't heroes as others might believe. To her, they were beings full of quiet ambition and veiled conviction, far from the purity their name implied.
Leon said nothing, his gaze lingering on the cloaked figures before returning to his meal, his mind already piecing together the implications of their presence.