Into the Breaking Tower
Leaving the tower as an NPC was impossible.
Even climbers sometimes couldn't exit closed towers, but there was usually a way out. Especially in this open tower of mine—any climber could come and go freely.
But an NPC, a component of the tower itself, leaving? If that were possible, Uncle Rohan wouldn't be holed up in a place like this.
"No way. Hold on. Is that even possible?"
"Who knows."
"Then why are you talking like it's a sure thing??"
I was floored. Anyone hearing him would think popping out and back was no big deal.
"Still, isn't it worth a shot?"
Uncle Rohan said it with such shameless confidence.
"...Well, yeah."
Going outside. Feeling modern civilization again. That was exactly what I wanted.
Medieval fantasy had too many inconveniences. Rock-hard beds, awkward bathing...
I missed modern food... especially chicken.
If I could get out, I'd grab some chicken and come right back.
"I won't say 100% for sure—that'd be irresponsible. But you might be the one being who can flip the bird to this tower."
"Eh, nothing that grandiose. I just wanna chill on the gallery."
"Then think of it as a quick trip outside for some air."
Uncle Rohan tossed me an item.
"What's this?"
"A mask."
A mask? It was white, with eye holes that mysteriously blocked any view inside.
Wearers can conceal all personal information.
"Looks like a solid item."
"Climbers doing shady stuff swear by it."
"Figures."
I tried it on. No odd sensations, but I could feel it when I touched it.
"How do I look?"
"Like a punk with a mask on?"
"...Not that. Do I look like a climber?"
"Nope."
"...Then this won't help if I just walk out like this."
I slumped my shoulders.
The mask only hid my face—it didn't change my vibe or clothes. Just a masked NPC.
I took it off.
"That's why I prepared this."
Uncle Rohan chuckled slyly.
"If you had something like that, why drag it out?"
"It's fun."
Grinning, he pulled out a bundle from behind.
"Every piece in here makes climbers drool."
"Yeah, they don't look ordinary."
"Sized to adjust automatically. Change in there and come out."
"Got it."
I grabbed the bundle and ducked behind a trash pile. First, black tights-like underlayer, then leather armor over it.
Underwear developed to survive extreme space. Superior waterproofing and stretch. Adapts to most situations.
Armor woven from intricately synthesized metal threads in multiple layers. Immune to ranged skills B-rank and below. Self-repairing.
Perfectly muffles all user noises. Touch shadows to restore durability.
Ascend one dimension higher. Nullifies all attacks from lower dimensions. Duration: 1 min. Cooldown: 100 hrs. (Free travel within duration.)
"Whoa."
Skimming the descriptions, my jaw wouldn't shut.
"How much would this sell for?"
I stepped out in the armor. It screamed climber—top-tier gear.
"Enough chit-chat. Listen up—important explanation time."
"Yes, sir."
I sat on a chair.
"You're entering a tower now."
"Weren't we going outside?"
"Don't interrupt."
"Got it."
I pouted.
"Towers log every climber in and out. Except one kind."
"What kind?"
"Towers on the brink of a tower break. They're collapsing, full of system glitches. All your gear came from one."
He pointed at me. No wonder it felt unreal.
"A tower collapsed recently. Missed that window, but luckily, there's one near yours about to break."
"Go there?"
"Clear it and exit. Collapse kills everything inside."
"...Wait, I've never even fought."
"Don't worry. Gear does the work."
He handed me a pouch.
"Weapons inside. Materials to fix that broken bow too."
"Clear the tower, fix the bow outside, then how do I get back?"
"Enter a nearby tower. Find me."
Simple enough.
"By midnight?"
"Why I told you to come early."
Right.
He'd said hurry. I dawdled.
Only ten minutes late, but still. I grumbled inwardly and tucked the pouch into the armor.
"Do we really need to go this far?"
"No other way to fix that bow."
"Still..."
This was escalating.
"Besides, once your tower's cleared, it's ashes. Practice escaping beforehand."
"...Fine."
No clue when it'd be cleared, but climbers were inside—doomed to fall eventually.
I wasn't dying with it.
I'd survive, no question.
"Screw it, let's do this."
What's one more death after the first? Whatever.
A real man doesn't whine.
I adjusted the mask.
"Come back alive."
"Yup."
I dove into the space he indicated.
A queasy churn, like swimming through water—slow, drifting—then I emerged somewhere.
"...Here?"
A dark crimson forest. The kind of place you'd imagine before world-ending doom.
...Clear this?
"We're screwed."
......
"Gotta tell the gallery quick..."
In a forest cave, catching his breath, the man tremblingly opened the Tower Gallery.
Still a total mess.
The man smirked once, then hit the write button.
The Tower Gallery had tabs: free-for-all free tab, newbie acclimation tab, info-sharing info tab, official association uploads.
Lightly segregated by taste, but one you didn't touch lightly: emergency tab.
Post there, and it pinned to the top instantly.
Frivolous use? Week ban minimum. Worst case, real-world discipline.
No messing with emergency tab.
Without hesitation, he hit it and typed furiously.
Gangwon-do - Tower 132: Strategy failure during climb. Tower collapsing. Tower break precursors. No other survivors from raid team that I know of. Rescue requested to association under B-rank climber Kim Hyun-bae.
Kim Hyun-bae uploaded with shaking hands.
Strategy failure penalties varied: mildest was expulsion. Most died.
But bad luck sometimes triggered collapse.
That's why association analysts spared no support to prevent failures—for climbers' lives, and to stop tower breaks.
Not every raid succeeded.
One tiny misfortune snowballed into failure... and this.
"P-Potions..."
Kim clutched his gut. Clothes soaked in blood. No way to staunch it.
He thought it absurd even as he typed. Burn a potion on a B-rank?
No spare resources for that.
"A-ranks barely get 'em, no way for B..."
He leaned against the cave wall.
Surviving failure was miracle enough. Teammates probably dead.
"...At least I warned them."
Small mercy. He'd take it.
"...What?"
Raid wasn't sloppy—pure focus, right up to success... then failure notice.
Half-doubting, Kim accepted. A potion appeared in his hand.
"Real..."
Real potion. The weight, the color—undeniable.
He chugged it. Wounds magically knit.
"Impossible."
Death's door moments ago; now just dizzy from blood loss, otherwise fine.
Kim swallowed hard.
Disaster began with the dragon egg.
Hatching birthed an evil dragon. Failed to stop revival—raid crumbled.
A-ranks no good. S-rank-led raid minimum.
Kim's verdict.
"...S-ranks don't move easy."
S-ranks busy: guild duties, climbs, training.
"...Please, anyone."
Survival instinct screamed, but Gangwon-do held countless civilians.
Outskirts or not, city fallout inevitable.
"Anyone, please..."
Kuuaaaah!!
"Ngh."
Kim plugged his ears.
Evil dragon stirring again.
"Damn it."
[Penalty accelerating!! Clear the tower!!!]
Time critically short.
"...Buy time myself."
Tank dragon hits for the tower—buy S-rank arrival window.
He nodded.
Post-failure, survival seemed impossible anyway.
Pulled an old shield from inventory.
Lifelong companion, saved him countless times—but no more.
"Here goes."
Kim headed out.
Crimson forest. Ominous aura everywhere.
Shield up, he taunted for aggro.
"Hey, you bastard! I'm here!"
"Ah, finally found someone."
"...Pardon?"
Kim startled at the sudden voice. Quickly assessed.
"A-Are you association rescue?"
Gear screamed elite—stuff he'd never dream of.
Definitely S-rank support.
"Nah."
"Huh?"
"Clear condition?"
The masked mystery girl asked.
"To... take down that evil dragon."
"Sigh... looks like wrong tower."
She tilted her head, pulled the pouch.
"What's in here..."
Hand deep in tiny pouch, rummaging wildly.
Kim frozen in shock, she yanked out something huge.
"Oh, this too."
A massive gun. Near-future design.
"Alright then..."
Fluidly unfolded, aimed.
Grrraaawr!
Dragon noticed her.
"W-Watch out...!"
"Shh."
She didn't flinch, sighted straight.
Bang—
Kim thought the sound underwhelming.
Then the dragon's body exploded.