I Don't Need To Log Out-Chapter 253: The Voice and the Monster

Arlon woke up on something rough and uneven. He shifted slightly, and the texture crunched beneath him. Straw?

No—something similar.

A makeshift bed of dried, fibrous material. His fingers curled around a handful, rubbing it between his fingers as his mind caught up.

His eyes shot open fully.

He immediately sat up, scanning his surroundings.

A room. One he didn't recognize.

It was dimly lit, but not dark. The walls were made of something sturdy—maybe stone, maybe metal—but he couldn't tell at a glance.

There was no visible source of light, yet the room wasn't shrouded in darkness.

Something about this felt familiar.

It was like déjà vu.

Like when he had woken up in Charon's Moonlight Potion Store after collapsing there.

But this wasn't Charon's store.

Then, memories surged back to him. The house—or what he thought might be a house—on this unknown floor.

The sound that had tormented him for a year. The monster that had opened the door. His attack. The clash.

And then…

His gaze drifted downward.

There, lying beside him, was what remained of Aetherion's Edge.

Shattered.

He stared at it, his mind blank for a moment. Then, his fingers instinctively reached out. He ran them along the broken blade, feeling its jagged edges.

Aetherion's Edge had been with him for so long. It was more than just a weapon—it was his companion. A blade that had seen countless battles, a blade he had intended to take all the way to Floor 100.

But now, that was impossible.

Even if he reforged it, it wouldn't be the same.

Aetherion's Edge was gone.

A strange pang hit his chest.

He clenched his fist and exhaled, forcing himself to push the feeling away.

Now wasn't the time to dwell on it.

The door creaked open.

His body tensed as he looked up.

The monster stepped inside.

Arlon immediately felt like an idiot.

This was the same monster he had attacked. The same monster that had effortlessly shattered Aetherion's Edge. And yet, it hadn't killed him.

That alone made it clear.

It never intended to fight.

And now that Arlon actually looked at it—really looked at it—it was even more obvious.

The creature stood on two legs, its broad form towering over him. Muscles rippled beneath thick, dark fur, and its face bore the distinct features of a bull. But one thing stood out:

It only had one horn.

The other had been broken.

Arlon narrowed his eyes.

This thing…

It looked almost exactly like IT.

The creature he had killed in Agema's secret pit, where she hid A Magician's Secret, when he first regressed.

And, funny enough, he had cut off its horn too.

Before he could process the strange coincidence, the monster spoke.

And this time, Arlon understood it.

"Are you alright?"

Arlon stiffened. His eyes widened slightly.

"You can speak my language?"

The monster sighed. Its massive shoulders slumped slightly, and what it said next caught Arlon completely off guard.

"I am sorry for your sword."

Arlon blinked. His brain struggled to process those words.

Apologizing? Why?

"I was the one who attacked you," Arlon said slowly, still trying to understand. "Why are you apologizing to me?"

The monster shook its head.

"You had no chance of hurting me anyway. I didn't realize you didn't understand my language. I thought you did, considering you came all the way here after hearing my call."

Arlon narrowed his eyes. "Your call?"

The monster nodded.

"Yes. I wasn't specifically calling you—I am always transmitting a message. That is my duty. Anyone who arrives here hears it. But if you didn't understand the instructions…"

It paused, studying Arlon carefully.

"Then how did you block out the sound?"

Arlon's breath hitched.

His mind pieced things together, realization hitting him like a hammer.

The voice.

The one that had followed him for a full year.

It had been coming from this monster.

It hadn't just been random noise. It had been a message. A message that had included instructions.

Instructions on how to reach this place.

Instructions on how to block out the sound.

Instructions that he had never understood.

That was why he had heard it the entire time.

The entire, excruciating, year-long journey.

The monster must have noticed the way his expression shifted because it suddenly let out a noise—something between a snort and a huff of disbelief.

"Wait… are you telling me you walked all the way here while hearing that sound in your ear—nonstop?"

Arlon didn't answer.

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He didn't have to.

The monster's expression changed as it realized the truth.

"Are you serious? I would have gone insane!"

It shook its head, clearly baffled. Then, with a heavy sigh, it crossed its arms.

The monster let out a deep sigh.

"Well… since I was the one speaking in a language you didn't understand, I suppose I can't blame you for attacking me."

It shook its head as if disappointed in itself.

"Anyway, I'm sorry. It's been a long time since anyone came here. I didn't think."

Arlon's eyes sharpened.

"Wait… has someone else come here before?"

His curiosity flared.

He was supposed to be the only one in the Tower since the time of the heroes.

Of course, no one could say with absolute certainty that no one had found the Tower before him. But finding the Tower and reaching this floor were two entirely different things.

Even if this place wasn't some kind of bug or punishment, even if it was an actual feature, one still had to climb all the way to the 90th floor to get here.

And the only ones capable of something like that were beings at Zephyrion's caliber.

Sure, there was always the possibility that this floor had a different requirement than simply reaching Floor 90…

But that felt like a long reach.

The monster tilted its head, considering his question. Then, after a moment, it answered.

"Tons of races have come here. But I can't quite remember when the last one was… I believe it was a few trillion years ago."

Arlon's entire body stiffened.

His mind nearly stopped working for a second.

"What do you mean a few trillion years?!" he demanded, his voice rising in shock. "How old even are you?! No—who are you?!"

The monster chuckled, its massive shoulders shaking slightly.

"Ah, I suppose I should introduce myself properly," it said. "I'll tell you everything. It is, after all, my duty."

Then, with a motion of its hand, it gestured toward a doorway leading deeper into the structure.

"Come inside. I'll offer you something to drink."

Arlon hesitated for a split second, then followed.

As they moved, he kept trying to detect the house.

But it was impossible.

It wasn't just undetectable—it was as if the objects inside only became physical only when he touched them.

His hand brushed against a nearby chair. Solid. Real. But the moment he stepped away, it might as well have been an illusion.

He frowned but didn't let it slow him down.

Because, despite all the strange mysteries surrounding this place, one thought excited him more than anything else.

He had been waiting—struggling—to learn more about the Tower.

And he had always assumed that knowledge would only come at the top of the Tower.

But now…

Now, there was a new possibility.

And he wasn't about to waste it.