Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: How to Turn Back Time
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“Why do Players climb the Tower?”
Players could live without ever climbing the Tower.
In the beginning, they’re forced into basic climbs like the tutorial, but after that, it’s complete freedom.
The tutorial is essentially adaptation training. It’s a necessary process to help them adjust to life in the Tower.
Once they get past the early stages, they can live without climbing. They’d still have to handle basic duties like guarding the Outskirts, though.
So what exactly drives Players to climb the Tower?
I couldn’t figure it out. No matter how much I pondered, the answer eluded me.
“Is it for money?”
It’s a simple reason, if that’s what it is. And above all, it’s the most convincing one.
The Tower is a place where people live, so economic activity is inevitable.
Climbing to earn money is the easiest way to sustain a basic lifestyle.
Trying to make a living as a merchant without climbing means you can’t keep up with the NPCs.
“That’s part of it. But if that were the only reason, they wouldn’t need to climb higher floors.”
I nodded at the Old Man’s denial. Yeah, that didn’t fully explain it. It didn’t make complete sense.
They could just keep challenging the floor with the best hunting efficiency.
In fact, that’s what a lot of them do.
Newbies fresh to the Tower can’t see themselves objectively and make mistakes, but after some time, they figure out their own level.
“Then why do Rankers climb? For fame? Because the ranking system assigns them positions?”
People are sensitive to visible numbers.
The desire for recognition, the tangible proof of growth right before their eyes.
There are countless reasons they climb the Tower. So many that it’s hard to guess.
But if you ask whether those reasons are worth risking their lives, they’d tilt their heads.
The risks seem too great compared to the rewards.
“Your premise is wrong from the start.”
The Old Man clicked his tongue as he spoke.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Does death have to be a penalty?”
“Huh?”
Did I hear that right?
I stared at him with a bewildered expression.
The Old Man calmly turned the page of his book.
“Before coming to the Tower, death was terrifying. We had regrets, and life was just a fleeting moment.”
“And now?”
The Old Man looked at me and smiled.
His face full of mischief, he grinned and said,
“Of course it’s still scary. The end is always frightening.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I let out an incredulous laugh.
“You just get numb to it. The intensity of the fear fades. It doesn’t scare you as much as before.”
The Old Man adjusted his glasses and continued.
“That’s how humans are. They call us creatures of adaptation. We adapt to emotions too. Especially ones we hold onto too much, for too long.”
Is that what happened to those two as well?
Did the ‘Tower’ and the ‘Abyss’ grow numb through adaptation?
Maybe that numbness has worn them down to something akin to dryness.
“I’ve lived more years in this old body than I did in my youth.”
The Old Man stroked his cheek and went on.
“A face full of wrinkles, hands full of wrinkles, creaky joints, and dim eyes. I’ve lived a life closer to death than most.”
Before the Tower, because I couldn’t resist the powerful flow of time.
After arriving, because I had to survive with such unfavorable physical conditions.
The old man had lived a life tilted more toward death than life.
“But that wasn’t all bad. Unlike others, I could see deeper. Slower, maybe, but I saw more.”
The old man didn’t achieve much at first.
I remember it clearly. That time is still vivid.
Many memories have faded, but that one remains sharp. Even if parts of it have discolored, the important bits are still there.
The Old Man was the first customer at our Used Bookstore.
In my darkest moment, I met the most precious connection.
“Back then, I was really pathetic.”
“You still are. You’re just a pathetic old man.”
“Sudden self-deprecation?”
It came out of nowhere. Should I comfort him? Deny it?
I had no idea how to handle this. It was a first.
As I floundered in confusion, the Old Man burst into laughter.
“Haha.”
The old man roared with laughter, nearly falling over. Tears welled up in his eyes from laughing so hard.
“W-what? Why are you laughing?”
“Your reaction is hilarious.”
“I’m not some moody teenager!”
As the words left my mouth, realization dawned. An exclamation escaped me.
“Ah!”
That’s it.
“Menopause!”
“No.”
“What? Not that?”
He’d gone from self-deprecating gloom to sudden cheer. I thought it was mood swings like puberty or menopause.
“Why do you sound disappointed?”
“It’s the regret of missing the right answer.”
“You’ve got a weird personality.”
“I don’t want to hear that from you.”
The Old Man kept laughing for a while longer before speaking again.
“It’s not self-deprecation. It’s self-objectification.”
“Huh?”
“I still see my shortcomings first.”
“Is that objective? There’s no one as strong as you.”
“There is. Plenty.”
“Who?”
“You, for one.”
My eyes widened automatically. I hadn’t expected myself to come up.
“I’m a given.”
“The Tower and the Abyss too.”
“Those are givens as well.”
“That’s exactly why it’s not okay. It shouldn’t be a given.”
“Why?”
“To help you all, don’t I need to reach at least a similar level? That’s why we came to the Tower—to help you.”
I was speechless for a moment. I wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind.
“Just a little further... I felt like I could reach it, but I couldn’t.”
Desperation seeped into the Old Man’s voice.
It carried the sticky, viscous texture of frustration built up over countless years.
“I’ve known for a long time. This is my limit. I can’t go any further.”
I listened silently to his words.
“When growth stagnates, it’s unbearable. In a frozen time, the only changes are the numbers in your status window and rankings. When even those stop, it gets hard to endure.”
“So that’s why you climb the Tower? To force growth?”
“Exactly. At that point, death isn’t a penalty anymore. It’s a reward.”
“You’re hoping for suicide?”
“Not suicide. Just indifference. Death doesn’t matter, and success is a bonus.”
“It’s foolish. Like moths to a flame.”
“Yeah. Fools.”
The Old Man muttered wearily, his face etched with exhaustion.
He stared at the hourglass as sand trickled down, then finally spoke.
“It might be good to turn back time.”
“It might change nothing.”
“Still, we have to try. Isn’t that unknown?”
“I don’t want to bet on uncertain odds.”
“Do it for you, not us.”
“That makes me want to do it even less.”
The Old Man sighed and added,
“We won’t remember anyway. We won’t recall what happened here.”
“I know. That’s why I hate it. I’d be the only one holding onto it again.”
Only me remembering, only me reminiscing, only me suffering.
“Are you afraid they’ll meet the same end? Scared of being left alone?”
I answered with silence.
“Isn’t that just avoiding the book? It’s no different from those collectors you despise so much.”
The Old Man set down the book he’d been holding and asked,
“Have you ever read this one?”
“...No.”
These were the only books I lacked the confidence to read. Skill Books created by my disciples.
I feared they were filled with resentment toward me. I was too scared to even touch them.
“Read it. You have to. It’ll change your mind. And maybe you’ll find the answer. Why they tried so hard to climb the Tower.”
The old man looked at Liv, who had her head bowed.
Who was calling whose self-deprecation excessive?
He felt pity every time he saw Liv.
Everything showed on her face, yet she tried to hide it forcibly. Instead of expressing her emotions, she bottled them up tightly.
How much, and for how long, had she been holding it in?
He’d heard she’d opened this Used Bookstore because of those disciples.
He had no memory of meeting them.
Back then, he’d truly been a worthless old man. He couldn’t face them at the top.
Honestly, he still thought the same. A strong but worthless old man.
What use was strength if he couldn’t properly help this young girl?
...To be frank, she wasn’t that young.
She was older than him, but her appearance made her feel like a granddaughter. Her actions and words did too.
Reality was, he was an old bachelor who’d never even married at his age, let alone had a granddaughter.
They said spending too long as a singleton turned you into a grand sorcerer.
Is that why I got this strong?
Lost in idle thoughts, he gazed at the hourglass.
Sand grains falling one by one.
It reminded him of Players who failed to climb the Tower and fell.
Moths flapping their wings in futility.
That was us. And him too.
Sacrifice? If so, what was this sacrifice for?
Sacrifice didn’t always yield worthy results.
Yet the word “sacrifice” seemed nobler than anything because it involved attempting despite that uncertainty.
He’d been preparing something for a long time.
Since facing his lofty limit, a plan he’d quietly put together.
Since realizing his aged body couldn’t overcome it.
He’d quietly whittled down his stats and weakened his skills, gaining the ability to pass on his memories in exchange.
It was a gamble, pure and simple. One with high odds.
Even in a state of weakening rather than growing, he’d held onto the number one ranking all this time.
Proof of how stagnant this world had become. No new talents emerging, no hope at all.
He’d vaguely felt since then that regression was the only answer.
For this lonely girl, shouldn’t there be at least one ally to support her fragile sway?
Couldn’t he play the role of a single pebble to twist the fixed track?
No matter what results that twist might bring.
He’d even considered offering himself as a weight on the scales.
But that wasn’t allowed.
The soul of a mere human, not even a transcendent, couldn’t tip the balance.
In the end, this was the best the old man could do.
Then a question arose.
Liv had said turning back time itself was simple. How could it be simple?
Time regression operated on massive sacrifice.
How could that be simple?
He could only hope she wouldn’t have to sacrifice herself, or lose something important.
For now, he had no choice but to trust Liv’s words.
Even in this moment, the old man couldn’t help but feel his own powerlessness.