Chapter 257: The Stupidity and Arrogance of Humanity

Ever since the Inter-Academy Tournament began, a lot of... unforeseen stuff has happened. This should have prompted the so-called higher-ups and authorities to plan preventive measures.

But this was where the sickly nature of humans, especially those in authority, came into play.

It had started with Echidna, an S-Rank primordial being. More had happened, and yet still, no one seemed to care about it. Or rather... they cared- just not enough.

They care not enough to interrupt their meetings, or to delay their political negotiations, or to stop the tournament. The Inter-Academy Tournament was too important.

It brought prestige, money, influence, public attention, and, most importantly, it allowed the various academies and sponsoring organizations to display their strength.

A few dead students? A damaged city? An escaped primordial monster?

Those were unfortunate incidents. At least, that was how the authorities described them.

***

In the capital’s Central Administration Building, a group of important officials sat around a long conference table.

A large screen displayed the current status of the tournament.

[STAGE THREE COMPLETED]

[PARTICIPATING ACADEMIES: 42]

[SURVIVING PARTICIPANTS: 318]

[CONFIRMED CASUALTIES: 76]

[MISSING PARTICIPANTS: 19]

Nobody looked particularly surprised. One man adjusted his glasses.

"Seventy-six casualties. That is higher than the previous stage."

"Only because several academies encountered stronger monsters than expected."

"That explanation will not satisfy the public."

A woman seated across from him folded her arms.

"Then give them a better explanation."

The room fell silent.

On the screen, footage from the tower played. Students fought monsters, buildings collapsed, the ground split apart, and then the screen showed Silas.

The footage had been recorded from a distant surveillance crystal. It showed him kicking a massive eyeball across the battlefield.

The officials watched in silence as the eyeball flew through the air, and Silas chased after it.

One official slowly leaned back.

"What exactly am I looking at?"

"An A-Rank hostile entity."

"I can see that."

"No. I mean the boy."

Another recording began.

Silas stood in the middle of the illusion forest, holding a glowing ball of sunlight above his head. The screen flickered as the energy readings rose.

[UNAUTHORIZED POWER EXPANSION]

[DOMAIN INTEGRITY FALLING]

[HOSTILE ENTITY ENTERING FINAL PHASE]

The recording ended with the explosion, and the officials exchanged glances.

"He is a student from Valecrest Academy?"

"Yes."

"Rank?"

"S-Rank. Thread Manipulation."

"Thread Manipulation?"

The official frowned.

"Then why was he using solar energy?"

Nobody answered immediately.

That was the problem. There were too many problems, too many strange incidents, too many unexplained abilities, and too many individuals who should not have been capable of doing the things they had done.

Echidna had been the first major warning.

An S-Rank primordial entity had appeared outside the expected containment zones. The creature had been weakened, but even in that condition, it possessed enough power to destroy an entire city if it became serious.

The authorities had investigated. They had sent reports. They had held meetings. Then they had done absolutely nothing meaningful.

The official report had been marked:

[THREAT LEVEL: MONITORED]

Because Echidna had not attacked a major government facility or destroyed a city. That was the logic of the authorities. If disaster had not yet become large enough to affect them personally, then it was not an emergency.

A different official cleared his throat.

"Regardless, the tournament must continue."

Several heads turned toward him.

"Continue?"

"Of course. The public is already invested. The sponsors have made their contributions. The academies have prepared for months."

"There have been multiple irregularities."

"There are always irregularities."

"Casualties and missing students weren’t part of what the public knows."

"That is why it is an irregularity."

"Is it?"

The official’s expression hardened.

"Are you questioning the Central Authority?"

"No. I am questioning the decision to continue sending teenagers into an unstable tower."

The room became colder. The woman at the end of the table tapped her finger against the surface.

"The tower has not violated the tournament’s established rules. The rules were written before the tower began changing."

"Then the rules will be adjusted."

"After the next stage?"

"Naturally."

The official stared at her.

"Why not before?"

She gave him a tired look.

"Because the next stage begins in less than a day."

"Then postpone it."

"Impossible."

"Why?"

"Because postponing the tournament would create panic."

The official almost laughed.

"People are already dying."

"People are always dying."

There it was.

The sentence that explained everything. The tournament was not being protected because the authorities believed it was safe. It was being protected because admitting it was dangerous would damage their reputation.

If they halted the event, they would have to explain why. They would have to admit that they had failed to predict the tower’s behavior. They would have to admit that their monitoring systems were insufficient.

They would have to admit that the so-called strongest organizations in the world had no control over what was happening.

And humans in authority hated admitting that they were not in control, especially when cameras were watching.

The screen changed again, and a map of the tower appeared.

The third stage had been cleared. The surviving academies were being moved toward the next area- the system had not revealed the nature of Stage Four.

One of the officials stared at the blank section.

"Can we force the tower to reveal the next stage?"

"No."

"Can we shut it down?"

"No."

"Can we extract the students?"

"No."

"Then what exactly can we do?"

The room fell silent. The woman at the end of the table finally answered.

"Wait."

That was their plan. Wait, observe, record, and hope that the next disaster would not be large enough to embarrass them.

***

Far away, inside the tower, the students of Valecrest Academy were sleeping.

They had been given twenty-four hours of rest, their bodies had been healed, their supplies had been replenished, and for the first time since the competition began, they were allowed to relax.

But outside the tower, the world was not resting.

News channels were already discussing the latest stage. Some praised the students. Others criticized the tournament organizers.

Parents demanded answers, academy directors issued statements, and the public wanted to know why so many students had been placed in danger.

The authorities responded with carefully prepared words.

"Unforeseen circumstances."

"An unprecedented event."

"Necessary adjustments are being made."

"Student safety remains our highest priority."

The words sounded impressive, but they meant nothing, because while the officials spoke about safety, another group was studying the tower.

***

Deep beneath the tower, beyond the areas accessible to the students, an enormous structure slowly opened its eyes.

The tower was not merely a dungeon, and it was not simply a test. It did not follow the rules created by humanity.

The stages were changing because something inside the tower was waking up. Something that had noticed the students, Silas, and begun to recognize him as a threat.

A low voice echoed through the darkness.

"That one..."

A pause. Then another voice answered.

"The pink-haired human?"

"No."

The enormous eye narrowed.

"The thing pretending to be human."

***

Back inside the conference room, the officials continued arguing over budgets, public statements, and tournament schedules.

None of them noticed the sudden fluctuation in the tower’s energy readings. None of them noticed the warning symbol appearing on the edge of the monitoring screen.

[UNKNOWN PRESENCE DETECTED]

[LOCATION: UNREGISTERED]

[THREAT CLASSIFICATION: UNAVAILABLE]

[ANALYSIS FAILED]

The warning remained for three seconds. Then it vanished. One official glanced at the screen.

"Was that an error?"

The technician checked the readings.

"Probably."

"Probably?"

"Yes."

The official nodded.

"Then ignore it."

And so they did, because that was humanity’s greatest talent: ignoring the warning until it became impossible to ignore.

The tower continued preparing Stage Four, the students continued sleeping, and the authorities continued believing that they still had control.

They were wrong. They had never had control. They had only been lucky. And luck, like everything else in this world, eventually ran out.