I Don't Need To Log Out-Chapter 276: Floor 100 (2)
Existence levels and normal levels weren't entirely separate.
Even though an existence level only officially increased once every 50 levels, it wasn't like those increases came out of nowhere.
Normal levels were part of the same scale—just on a finer spectrum.
If existence levels were the hour hand of a clock, then normal levels were the minute hand.
Each normal level nudged the existence level forward, just in smaller, less noticeable increments.
The change was subtle—so subtle that before level 300, most wouldn't even notice it.
But the closer one got to those milestones—like Level 300—the more obvious the shift became.
And when the hour hand moved, it wasn't just symbolic. The difference was real.
The gap between levels 299 and 300 might seem like one level on paper, but in practice, it was massive.
And the gap between levels 299 and 310?
It wasn't even close.
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Arlon stared at the enemy.
The thing didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't shift its stance.
It was just there.
But Arlon wasn't fooled.
There was a two-level difference between this monster and the last one. Two levels, in this range, meant everything.
The Voidbound Tyrant had been level 308. This creature was level 310.
That gap—those two measly numbers—meant a chasm he couldn't measure with just experience or intuition.
But it also meant something else.
If he won this fight—if he survived—he would level up.
He could feel it. The edge was so close now that just brushing against another high-tier existence would tip him over. He was at the threshold. A single victory away.
And if he leveled up now, something else would change.
He would be able to fight monsters that surpassed the 300 mark.
His stats were already absurd for his level— equal to those around level 450 if he were to compare them like that—and with a level-up, his effective combat ability would spike even further.
He could take on beings as high as level 349.
Even when the difference between every single level after 300 was monumental.
A monster at 301 wasn't just a bit stronger than one at 300. It was a different kind of existence.
A different pressure.
A different world.
But Arlon could handle it.
That's what his stats were telling him.
But it didn't matter.
He didn't want to keep climbing.
He had come here—risked everything—because he wanted to reach level 300, and he hoped this was the last floor.
But so far, there was nothing to suggest that it was.
No system notification.
No sudden revelation.
No indication that this was the end of the Tower.
Just another enemy. Just another monster standing in his way.
Arlon clenched his jaw.
He wanted to go back.
But there was a slim chance.
A single, slim chance that he would level up today.
The creature before him didn't move. Not a twitch. Not a blink. Not a breath.
But it was there.
He could see it.
And yet… he couldn't feel it.
It was like the space it occupied had been hollowed out of the world. As if its presence was so far above his own that it simply didn't register.
Like it wasn't even real.
And that was only possible when the gap between their existence levels was massive.
Arlon's mind spun.
Even in this body, even with his pain suppressed by ninety percent, he was at his limit.
Every nerve screamed.
Every muscle burned.
His wounds throbbed with every heartbeat, and the sword in his hand felt heavier than it ever had.
He wasn't recovered from the last floor.
Not even close.
Each fight after floor 90 had lasted weeks. Each battle had been a war. Each day was a test of survival.
He had spent months enduring, clawing his way through enemies that should've crushed him.
And when it was over?
Five minutes of rest.
That was all the Tower gave him before throwing him into the next floor.
The Tower was cruel.
But so was he.
He wouldn't give up.
He wouldn't turn back.
Even if his body screamed.
Even if he had nothing left.
The creature still hadn't moved.
But it didn't feel like time was frozen—not like what Jiroeki had done.
No, this was different.
It felt like arrogance. Or maybe just indifference.
Like Arlon wasn't even worth reacting to.
Like a human watching a fly buzz across the room.
But Arlon wasn't a fly.
Not anymore.
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He had fought too hard, climbed too high. He had killed monsters stronger than him. Survived battles he shouldn't have.
Endured the Tower's tests with nothing but will and pain.
And he was stronger than the time he had attacked Jiroeki.
Back then, he hadn't even scratched the man.
Now? He still couldn't land a hit on Jiroeki—but he was different.
He'd gained more since then.
He had learned more.
He had grown.
So, he would go all in.
Arlon activated Mana Surge, the skill he received together with his title.
Then Haste.
He already knew Slow wouldn't work. It hadn't worked on the previous floors, and he had no reason to believe it would work now.
And the title's passive—Absolute Shield—was useless too. It hadn't triggered against the Voidbound Tyrant. One free hit negated.
That had been the ability's promise. But it didn't work in the last fight.
Arlon didn't know why.
Maybe it was something about void.
Or maybe it was because of the existence level difference.
Either way, he couldn't count on it.
This would be hit-and-run.
Gauge the enemy.
Test its defense.
And then decide.
He began activating spells and abilities. One by one. Layer after layer.
Dark magic. Reinforcement. Every single active skill he could stack onto his body.
His frame began to glow—mana swirling around him like smoke catching fire.
Then, Night Rend.
A dark ability fused with speed and impact. One of his finishers.
Together with Mana Surge, it became lethal.
His body pulsed with unstable power.
There was no holding back.
He moved.
And in the blink of an eye, he was in front of the creature.
He was fast—so fast that even with Eyes of KET**, he almost missed.
His body wasn't letting him use the Eyes at full power.
But he saw enough.
Just barely.
And then—
He swung with everything he had.
