The Regressor Trains (8)
The Regressor Trains (8)
Bzzzzzz.
The room was a mess, littered with papers scattered everywhere. A haggard-looking man was shaving his stubble with an electric razor. His appearance hadn't mattered up to this point, but with an important presentation coming up, he was hurriedly getting cleaned up.
"..."
It had been a week since he'd last contacted his family. Every bit of effort from the past seven days had been for this moment. The man glanced sideways at the materials laid out on the desk, then refocused on shaving. A business card poking out of a briefcase in the corner of the room read, "Yun Jung-hyun, Head of the Player Management Department," in a neat font.
"Hoo."
Having finished tidying himself up, the man—no, Yun Jung-hyun—put on a dress shirt he'd ironed in advance. With his preparations complete, he sat down carefully in front of his laptop. Five minutes remained.
"..."
But now that he was sitting in front of the laptop, the view on the screen was less than ideal. The fateful moment arrived just as he'd finished rotating his desk 180 degrees to make the window his background and keep the messy room out of the camera's view.
—Hey, Jung-hyun. You're all ready, I assume?
Yun Jung-hyun had recently succeeded in clearing Floor 9, and at the same time distinguished himself in the Association's operations. The upper echelons of the Association took notice of him... and not long after the 'Death God' incident broke, a heavy responsibility was placed on his shoulders.
He had been assigned the senior role of compiling and organizing all the data in the Association's possession and then presenting it at a 'Secret Meeting.'
In an age where information is power, this vast data held by the Association could be considered its greatest asset. Being entrusted with the task of organizing it meant the Association placed its faith in Yun Jung-hyun. (His background in a national intelligence agency had also played a part.)
"Very well then, I'll begin my report."
The Player Association's secret meeting didn't involve human-shaped holograms popping up, or screens displaying cryptic letters with distorted voices.
It was closer to a Zoom meeting, run on a proprietary program. A perfectly ordinary meeting, with everyone's faces appearing in their own squares arranged in a grid.
But the people taking part in the meeting were far from ordinary. The Association's core leadership was present, but so were multiple faces from the G20 Presidents, along with a handful of players who could be called the 'Advance Party,' going beyond the top ranks. One face, however, was absent: Michael Jeter, President of the Player Association.
"Well, well, look at this."
"Is that fellow not going to show his face today? Why, when he showed us that 'book' last time..."
"Now, now. Let's focus."
As Yun Jung-hyun's voice joined the meeting, everyone else's microphones cut off. In the slightly heavy silence that followed, his presentation began.
"According to the Association's database estimates... roughly 3.8 million people have been summoned to the Tutorial so far."
The estimated number of humans summoned by the Tower to date was about 3.8 million. It sounded massive, but it was only 0.0475 percent of the global population—roughly one in every two thousand people.
"However, the Tutorial's survival rate is only about 22 percent. As a result, an estimated 836,000 players have set foot on Floor 1."
Rounded up, that's about 840,000 people—the number who completed the Tutorial and returned safely to Earth. Only 0.01 percent of the eight billion humans had ever obtained a Status Window.
"And 200,000 players have registered their information with our Association and are actively exchanging information."
200,000 out of 840,000. An incredible achievement, considering the Association had existed for less than half a year.
"..."
"..."
Still, the meeting participants' reactions were lukewarm. This was all information they already knew.
"Then I'll get straight to the main point."
Yun Jung-hyun flipped quickly through the slides, skipping over all the information they were likely already familiar with. Organizing that section alone had taken over a full day, but presentations are meant to be flexible.
"Now, this is our Association's pride and joy: the 'Player Distribution Map.'"
Having finally reached the part he wanted, Yun Jung-hyun raised his voice slightly.
"As you can see from the chart, about 40 percent of the players registered with the Association are still on Floor 1. They're afraid to risk their lives climbing the Tower."
Around 40 percent never even attempt to climb the Tower. But even this was a massive improvement. If the Player Association hadn't continuously promoted the message that 'Floor 2 is safe,' the number would have been close to 90 percent.
"But once players reach Floor 2, they quickly move on to Floor 3. So the number of players currently staying on Floors 2 and 3 is small."
Floors 2 and 3 were designed so that anyone, assuming they picked the appropriate difficulty, could clear them. Having grown confident through these easy floors, the players fearlessly raced on to the next.
"On Floor 4... more than half of the players give up on climbing the Tower."
Out of consideration for the Presidents who had never experienced the Tower, Yun Jung-hyun kept the details to himself. Anyone who had cleared Floor 4 would already know exactly what he was talking about anyway.
"However, the players who overcome Floor 4 and advance to Floor 5 begin climbing the Tower rapidly once again. As you can see here, the preparation periods between floors are short, and survival rates are quite high."
Perhaps it was because most of the dregs had already been filtered out. Once they reached Floor 5, players climbed the Tower without hesitation. Whether they were hooked on the thrill of growing stronger or the thrill of earning money by selling items, they didn't stop their ascent.
"But... that trend has changed recently."
Yun Jung-hyun lowered his voice slightly and circled his mouse over the bar labeled 'Floor 11.'
"Players who cleared Floor 11 a while ago might be fine, but every single player who has cleared Floor 11 recently has stopped moving on to Floor 12. Every single player."
"Does that make any sense?"
One of the Association's senior officials couldn't hold back and unmuted his microphone to address Yun Jung-hyun.
"I know they're in the top ranks, but I'm aware there are quite a few people around Floor 11. And now you're saying 'every' one of them? Could the data be incorrect? Or maybe a player who isn't registered with the Association has reached Floor 12?"
"No. It really is 'every' player."
Shaking his head, Yun Jung-hyun advanced to the next slide.
"You're all aware of how the 'Hero' Choi Ji-won recently dispatched a criminal calling himself the 'Death God' on Floor 11."
"..."
"The profiles of the players the Death God killed are anything but ordinary. They were all people famous for their excellent traits, and the prevailing consensus was that even if their character was bad, they had the ability. Yet the Death God was strong enough to slaughter these people with ease and broadcast the killings on the Deep Web."
"...And?"
"That Death God, who was that strong, was easily taken down by Choi Ji-won."
This was a variable Kim Jun-ho hadn't anticipated. Exhausted from the repeated regressions, he'd neglected the 'act of fighting evenly' and instead focused on the 'spectacular final defeat.' As a result, although a careless Choi Ji-won had been wounded by the Death God, the rumor had spread that she defeated him in an instant the moment she'd gotten serious.
Let me reiterate: Choi Ji-won's 'Heart of Lightning' was currently nothing more than all show and no substance. But rumors, by nature, aren't bound to the truth. People freely deluded themselves into thinking that she'd gotten her hands on a Transcendent-grade Trait.
This fact, combined with the notoriety of the players the 'Death God' had been secretly killing all along, created incredible synergy. Currently, Choi Ji-won's stock had skyrocketed past the stratosphere and was touching Mars. The players who had refused to provide her with information were, in truth, mostly playing hard to get to try and pull her to their side. If they'd waited another two weeks or so, some group would've slipped her the info to curry favor.
"They say the lightning she called down nearly blinded and deafened the other players. Everyone who cleared Floor 11 gave the same testimony: 'She is a monster.' And players who entered Floor 11 after she cleared it were reportedly intimidated just by seeing the traces of the fight."
What does Choi Ji-won's strength have to do with other players not climbing the Tower? As I mentioned earlier, aside from Floor 4, the Tower's difficulty isn't really that high. That's why what sets top-ranked players apart is their 'drive to improve.' They climb the Tower driven by the desire to ascend faster than others, to become stronger than others, and to stand above others.
And those very people had hit a wall. They'd come face-to-face with a monster named Choi Ji-won, a monster that, under the present circumstances, seemed utterly unbeatable. They'd never thought of themselves as weak before. But now, they were acutely feeling their own lack of power for the very first time.
There wasn't a single coward who gave up just because they hit a wall. Instead, they took the time for self-reflection. They inspected their abilities, honed their techniques, and acquired all sorts of knowledge that might one day be needed.
"The vast majority of players are currently polishing their skills. I've heard they're hiring famous martial arts instructors or drill instructors with special forces backgrounds to undergo a process of becoming accustomed to combat itself. Reports of injuries from sparring between players are also quite common."
It had been three months since the Tower opened. Most players still very much looked like ordinary civilians. But now, they'd begun preparing to be reborn as true warriors.
Of course, not every player was dedicating themselves to refining their strength. Among those not climbing to Floor 12, some had an entirely different angle in mind.
'Some of the bodies of players who cleared Floor 12 had multiple weapon wounds.'
'Looking at Floor 11, you can tell the angels are likely to openly encourage conflicts between players. The weapon injuries are probably the result of that.'
'What if a floor comes along where players have to fight each other? Or what if the rewards are distributed differently depending on your performance?'
'If you get caught on the same floor as Choi Ji-won, you're fucked.'
Judging from their experience on Floor 11 and the photos of those who completed Floor 12, they determined there was a high probability of taking a major loss if they proceeded through Floor 12 alongside Choi Ji-won. Moreover, they also understood that if the rewards were distributed on a curve, competing against the latecomers was far more advantageous than competing against the other top-ranked players.
Of course, all of this was nothing more than rational guesswork. There was also a high possibility they were wrong. But the players had already come to a sort of mutual agreement: they'd decided to halt their Tower climbing for two weeks starting from the date Choi Ji-won cleared Floor 11.
"If this trend continues..."
Yun Jung-hyun circled the 'mid-ranks' who were currently progressing from Floor 5 to Floor 10 with his mouse.
"...the existing 'top-ranked' players will get overtaken by the 'upper-mid-ranked' players who ignore agreements like this."
Getting overtaken isn't exactly the end of the world. Top-ranked players had the talent, the traits, and the sheer nerve to crush the upper-mid-ranks anyway.
But the truly critical fact... was that the quality of the players climbing the Tower was dropping.
**
One day. Two days. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. What comes next? I don't know. Fuck. Does it even matter?
Eleven days had passed. Every wasted day felt like my chest was about to tear open.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck..."
Isn't eleven days pretty manageable?
This one day wasn't just any day. It was a single 'repeating' day I'd have to live through every time I regressed. If this were like Floor 3, with sub-floors like 3-1 and 3-5, maybe it'd be different. But the message I saw when I entered was simply: 'Entering Floor 12.' The mechanics were likely similar to Floor 4.
I'd already searched every inch of the surrounding area. It looked to be some kind of research facility. When I pushed in a hidden wall at the end of a corridor, I found a bunch of complicated machinery inside. But I'm no scientist, so I couldn't make heads or tails of any of it.
How many times am I going to have to repeat this? I can't. I seriously can't do this.
"..."
This was a different kind of horror from the floors I'd passed so far. Every other time I'd repeated regressions, I'd at least had some sense of purpose. But this... this was just waiting, with no end in sight and no goal. And there was a high chance it wouldn't be just once.
"Hoo, hoo, hoo..."
My breathing, roughened by my anxious imagination, evened out. If Choi Ji-won were here with me... No. It's better that I'm the only one suffering.
"..."
I unconsciously reached for my sword, then set it back down. I wanted to practice my swordsmanship, but I couldn't even dare try, afraid I'd accidentally trigger a regression. How much longer do I have to wait? I was tearing pages out of a book from the shelf like a madman, when—
"Whoa, what's this? There's a microwave in here?"
"Guys! Where are you?"
"...!"
Day 11 on Floor 12.
At long last, I heard other human voices.