The climb became slow.
Painfully slow.
Not because they lacked strength anymore, but because the tower itself started resisting them. Every floor after thirty-five felt like dragging a mountain uphill with bare hands. Experience crawled forward in microscopic numbers that would've broken most players mentally after a few days.
But Zethara?
They treated it like a challenge out of spite.
That was the part that completely destroyed Mikel's party's understanding of them.
The Zetharians weren't discouraged.
Not even close.
If anything, the slower progress became, the more stubborn they got.
I watched it happen every single day.
A combatant would kill a monster, see the pathetic amount of experience gained, stare at it for maybe half a second… then immediately look toward the corpse instead.
"Don't damage the spine!"
"Careful with the claws!"
"The crystal sac is still intact!"
"The hide's usable if you cut around the joints!"
They weren't just hunting anymore.
