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It took almost one thousand deaths to clear the twelfth floor. The thirteenth floor would need less than that.
Mr. Sword Emperor, I said.
—What?
Let’s make a bet.
—A bet on what?
A zombie attacked me, so I sliced off its head. Since the zombie’s neck was already rotten, my blade went through it like tofu. There were dozens—hundreds—thousands of zombies coming at me.
How many times do you think I will die before I clear the nineteenth floor?
—Hmm. The Guardian stroked his chin. Okay. I’ll bet on less than a hundred!
I grinned. Then I’ll bet on less than ninety-nine times.
—Do you really want to go that low?
Yeah, I really want to.
—Alright. I’ll have fun watching you kill your own kind. Good luck, Zombie! But a bet is a bet, so I won’t be helping you this time. Deal? The Guardian chuckled.
Deal.
I smiled at the endless horde of zombies closing in on me.
[You have died.]
[Rewinding twenty-four hours.]
I died with a smile.
[You have died.]
[Rewinding twenty-four hours.]
“Gosh, I really should reduce their numbers first… Black Dragon Master, can you do something about it?”
“I’m already trying my best since I’m the...
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