A Necromancer's Guide to Clearing a Game Like Tower

Do you still think it’s her?" Finn asked.

James sat on one of the benches, eyes on the far wall.

"Yes."

Finn did not ask him to explain. He had seen the smile too.

The basement was exactly as they had left it, polished floors, equipment racks, strip lighting bright enough to make the shrine feel like a bad dream. But the image stayed anyway. Men hanging in dark-red threads. The Saintess walking between them like she owned every breath they had left.

James opened his status window.

[JAMES GANNER]

[CLASS: NECROMANCER (LEGENDARY)]

[LEVEL: 19]

[EXP: 2,885/14,000]

[HP: 880/880]

[MANA: 1,390/1,390]

[STRENGTH: 39]

[AGILITY: 44]

[INTELLIGENCE: 68]

[ENDURANCE: 43]

[LUCK: 31]

[UNSPENT STAT POINTS: 5]

There was no point saving the stat points now.

He put three into Intelligence and two into Endurance.

[INTELLIGENCE: 68 → 71]

[MANA: 1,390 → 1,420]

[ENDURANCE: 43 → 45]

[HP: 880 → 920]

[UNSPENT STAT POINTS: 0]

Finn watched the window disappear.

"Enough?" he asked.

James looked toward the dark screen on the wall.

"No."

Then Finn turned the news on.

The TRB news channel was already running when Finn turned on the wall screen.

The anchor’s voice cut into the basement, clean and sharp.

"Breaking news from the Tower Resource Bureau, where a second party has now been confirmed dead on Floor 15. All five Challengers were members of a D-rank guild operating out of Manchester, and officials are identifying the hostile entity responsible as the Dark Knight."

Behind her, a still image of Dublin Tower filled the screen, half-hidden behind rain and city haze.

"The Tower confirmed the full party death at 03:14 this morning, with no survivors returning. The Floor 15 side-story timer currently stands at fifteen days, and government officials have confirmed that S-rank Challengers are now being consulted for a possible state-sponsored response."

James did not move.

Finn stood beside the table with the remote in his hand, his thumb resting near the mute button.

The anchor continued.

"This marks the second complete party wipe on Floor 15 in under two weeks."

The screen cut to a panel of three experts seated around a bright studio desk.

"At this point," one of them said, "we have to ask whether conventional D-rank and C-rank parties are equipped to handle this encounter at all. A Dark Knight-type entity suggests heavy armor, high physical resistance, and possibly—"

Finn muted it.

The studio kept moving silently on the screen. The experts talked with serious faces, their hands cutting through the air as if the right explanation could make the dead less dead.

James watched them for a few seconds.

"They said Dark Knight three times in less than a minute," he said.

Finn’s jaw tightened. "Not one mention of the Saintess." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

"No shrine," James said. "No cross. No men walking into that place on their own feet."

Finn looked at the screen again.

The words at the bottom kept scrolling.

FLOOR 15 DARK KNIGHT CLAIMS SECOND PARTY.

James’s eyes stayed on the headline.

"That is why people keep dying."

—----

"We are not going in with random teammates," Finn said.

"I know," James said. "And I want to stream it."

Finn turned his head slowly.

"Floor 15?" he asked.

"Live."

For a second, Finn only stared at him. Then his eyes narrowed.

"You saw what she does to men in that shrine. If that influence hits someone during the stream, everyone sees it."

"That is why I want it live."

Finn did not answer.

James looked at the blank screen where the news report had been replaying the same useless words all morning.

Dark Knight. Failed attempt. Government response. S-rank deployment.

Not one mention of the shrine. Not one mention of the Saintess. Not one mention of the men beneath the village or the cross that called them in their sleep.

"They keep calling it a Dark Knight," James said. "That is what the next team will prepare for. Armor. Strength. A boss fight. Then they will enter and find out too late that the fight started before the sword was drawn."

Finn’s expression changed slightly.

James continued, quieter now.

"If we clear it and the only thing people get afterward is another official report, they will still miss the point. They will think we were stronger, or luckier, or better equipped."

"And you want them to see what it actually is," Finn said.

"Yes."

Finn leaned back, looking at him properly now.

Team Zero had gone dark after Elliot died. They had not streamed since Floor 10. The world had watched them rise, then watched them disappear. A live clear of Floor 15 would not just be a return. It would be proof.

Proof that the floor was not just killing people because they were weak.

Proof that the reports were incomplete.

Proof that Team Zero was climbing again.

"Same setup as Floor 9?" Finn asked.

James shook his head.

"No TRB-managed stream."

Finn waited.

"I will still use the platform if I have to," James said. "But not their operation. Not their framing. This is our clear."

Finn studied him for another moment, then nodded once.

"Then we do it properly," he said. "No randoms. No rushed entry. No one on that floor who cannot keep their head when she starts smiling."

James remembered the red chamber beneath the shrine.

"She will do more than smile next time," he said.

Finn’s hand tightened around the edge of the table.

"Then we find people who can survive that."

Here is the full fixed version with smoother texting, no weird clipped "Floor 15" sentence, and cleaner narration:

His phone lit up on the table.

Niamh: Your licensing distribution cleared. Your quarter share came to €23 million, and I’ve attached the statement in case you want the breakdown.

James read the message once, then set the phone down for a moment.

Twenty-three million euros.

A year ago, a number like that would have cracked his whole world open. Now it sat on the screen while the men beneath the shrine stayed in his head, hanging in dark-red thread with their eyes half-shut.

He picked the phone back up.

James: Is the circlet available?

The reply came after a few seconds.

Niamh: Not right now. It’s with a French consortium for a Floor 9 dark-aura operation, and their current contract has about three weeks left.

James: I need it back within one week because I’m using it for Floor 15.

This time, the pause was longer.

Niamh: Do you know how to clear Floor 15?

James: I know why the teams are dying.

Another pause followed.

Niamh: If this is about Floor 15, we can run it the same way we handled Floor 9. TRB manages the stream, controls the broadcast setup, and the split stays 90/10. O’Shea will want oversight, especially now that the government is talking about sending S-ranks.

James looked at the message for a few seconds before replying.

James: No. I’ll handle the floor myself. Just get the circlet back.

Niamh: Understood. I’ll escalate the retrieval request now and confirm once I have an answer.

James locked the phone and set it face down.

Finn had read enough from across the table to understand the shape of the exchange, but he did not comment immediately.

The old version of James had needed TRB because he had no platform, no money, and no weight behind his name. Back then, O’Shea’s office had been the only room large enough to carry the plan.

That was not true anymore.

James still needed the circlet.

He did not need them to own the clear.