The Regressor Trains (13)
The Regressor Trains (13)
Right now my number-one goal is to clear Floor 12 at least once. The reason is simple. I could feel my mental state starting to waver. Doing nothing for eleven days and simply letting the time pass was far more agonizing than I had expected. I needed to see Choi Ji-won again, ease her worries, and pull my own head back together.
That raises an obvious question: how do I actually clear Floor 12? At the moment there are two main problems. First, a guy who has no real grasp of his own limits and keeps challenging an excessively difficult floor. Second, a short-haired woman who screams when a comrade dies and then roasts every other comrade to ash. I don't know how things will play out later, but for now those are the two immediate obstacles.
So should I do what I did on earlier floors—swing my sword around to scare them, activate the Awe Trait, and force them to listen to me? I don't think that's the right answer here. Their egos are simply too strong.
'There's a high chance the Awe Trait won't activate easily.'
The Awe Trait doesn't kick in so easily against people who are arrogant or who firmly believe their sense of self is powerful. It works best on opponents who are mentally cornered or who perceive a staggering gap in strength compared to me. The gap between them and me is definitely staggering... but the odds are high that they won't mentally accept it.
Couldn't I just beat it into them until the trait activates on its own? That, too, would clearly backfire if all I do is "just" intimidate them. Since no one can interfere when someone chooses their reward, if they decide on the final test to pick only the hardest reward in a let's-die-together spirit, I'm the one who'll be in trouble.
Of course, one brutal option does remain. If this test is designed to keep going even when someone dies—skipping the dead person's reward selection phase altogether—then killing the other four would guarantee a clear.
But naturally, that's a hard pass. Killing people to coast through easily isn't my way. In web novels and comics, regressors who operate that way consistently meet a bad end. If you start killing this one for this reason and that one for that reason, eventually there's no one left at your side. Choi Ji-won and I don't want to grow accustomed to killing anyone in the first place.
Anyway, for the reasons above, forcing them through intimidation is off the table. Which means I have to steer things so we can clear this floor without threats or violence...
"Do you remember what I said earlier? That the [1] mannequin was incredibly weak."
"...And?"
"But you said the [6] or [7] mannequins were still fairly strong, right?"
In the last cycle I'd picked [10] and then chosen [1], so the others had to shoulder 9 or 8, but this time I picked [1] and handled [1] myself, so the numbers came out a little lower. That's why the woman with glasses still had her glasses intact and no one had been wounded this time.
"I think the mannequin's strength spikes dramatically as the number increases. We have to be careful."
Their complacency and arrogance were even worse than in the previous cycle, and I'd pointed that out.
"Ah, right."
"Mm..."
But the other players just went, "Oh, I see~," and moved on. They were overflowing with self-confidence, and having just won easily, they didn't let my words reach their ears. I'd expected this. Still, words that seem meaningless now will carry serious weight later on.
-Then, before we begin the second test, each of you will choose your reward. Everyone, please take your seats.
[10] Custom Item Box (A- ~ C+)
[15] Experience Elixir (Mid)
[20] Random Trait Box (Unique)
When we sat back down as the voice instructed, the message window appeared before our eyes. Same as the last cycle, [10] was the lowest reward. Was that fixed? Or had someone actually lied and chosen [10]? Unless I tried killing the other four, there'd be no way to know.
"Hm."
After a very brief hesitation, I pressed the [10] button hard. The protective barrier vanished and the number [85] floated above the elevator.
"I'll say it up front: I chose 20."
"Same."
The short-haired woman and the man with the mole declared confidently that they'd chosen [20].
"I chose 15."
"Huh, me too."
The woman with glasses and the acne-faced man both claimed [15].
The sum of the numbers they claimed was 70. But the number floating above the elevator was 85. Considering that I'd chosen 10, that meant once again there was one liar. In the last cycle, the snowball started rolling from that lie and it led directly to the death of the man with the mole.
"Ah, I chose 15. With that, the numbers match perfectly."
But what if I also told a lie? If someone underreported by 5, I'd overreport by 5. Then the source of all this conflict would vanish. Sure, there's a high chance I'll be suspected of lying... but as long as we clear the floor, none of that matters.
"Is that so? Then let's get going. I'll go in first."
"No, hold on."
"Be right back?"
The man with the mole stepped onto the elevator the instant he realized the numbers matched, utterly indifferent to whether the others were flustered. This time he'd entered [20].
"That's it."
I let a huge smile spread inside my head. This was exactly what I'd been aiming for.
When the man with the mole had entered [25] before, he'd lost by a hair's breadth—at least, that's what I'd inferred. So if he entered 20 without getting greedy for another 5... at the very least, he wouldn't lose.
About twenty minutes passed.
"Oh, you're ba— ...What happened to you? Are you okay?"
"Ugh, ughhh..."
Proving my conjecture right, the man with the mole returned alive, even if he looked like a shredded rag. His dwarf-forged armor was hideously distorted and a large wound stretched near his cheekbone, but he was still breathing. Maybe because of that, even the short-haired woman's skin reddened slightly, but she didn't actually let out any flames.
"A potion—first, drink a potion. Whoa, I can see your shoulder blade..."
"Huff, huff, huff..."
The warped armor was practically a weapon in its own right at that point, so we had no choice but to forcibly strip it off. Once we'd peeled away the precious dwarf-forged armor and he'd downed a potion, a little color returned to the man with the mole's face. A few scars would remain, but the worst was over.
"So, what happened?"
"The mannequin, the mannequin was... fucking strong..."
According to the man with the mole, the enemy had been a mannequin wielding a scythe. He said it was his first time fighting a weapon like a scythe.
"It didn't use any special powers. It was just... too good at fighting. That's all."
A fight between a spear and a scythe. A spear has the advantage in reach. A scythe is fundamentally an awful tool for thrusting or slashing; its very shape is suited for chopping.
Yet the mannequin drove the man with the mole to his very limit. It choked up on the scythe, closed the distance relentlessly, and stubbornly targeted his throat.
"If the armor hadn't deflected those attacks... I might've been dead long ago."
The man grew tired, but the mannequin never tired. Realizing he'd only grow more disadvantaged as time passed, the man with the mole made a decisive call. He'd trusted his armor to absorb the throat-seeking scythe on his shoulder, then used the moment it was embedded to take the mannequin down.
"Damn, I let my guard down... If I'd known it would be this rough..."
He trailed off and kept stealing glances at my face. By now he must've remembered too—that I'd warned them to be careful because it could get a lot harder.
That's right. This was the scenario I'd been steering toward. The man with the mole scraped through by the skin of his teeth and became a living warning about how dangerous this floor actually was.
"..."
"..."
With visible, tangible evidence right in front of them, even the ones brimming with self-confidence had thoroughly deflated. The look on their faces practically said, Am I going to end up like that too?
"Then I'll go in next."
And so, without anyone interfering, I was able to board the elevator and enter [20]. What about entering [15]? Sure, I should have. I just wanted to see for myself how hard [20] really was.
Wooong.
After about thirty seconds, the elevator doors opened and the familiar pure-white space revealed itself.
-The test will now begin.
"Hm."
Maybe because it was the same [20] difficulty, the black mannequin the man had described—the one holding a scythe—rose to its feet. I drew my sword from the scabbard and approached it.
"Come on."
If my luck was really good, I might clear this in one go. But internally I was bracing for at least three regressions. "Defeating an enemy without a single scratch" was never easy. The fact that I rate myself as nowhere near the top tier includes the reality that just one hit sends me into regression. Unless the skill gap is genuinely absurd, winning without taking any damage is impossible.
The distance between me and the mannequin gradually closed. When we reached the range where a sword swing would land—
"...!"
In an instant, the mannequin gripped its scythe and lunged. At first glance it looked like a low, deep horizontal sweep aimed at my abdomen, but its plant foot was shallow. Meaning: that attack was a feint.
Fwoosh!
The blade that had been laid sideways flipped upward, and the sharp scythe came straight for my face. Because of the scythe's long blade, just rotating the weapon a little could produce devastating variation. But I'd already anticipated it, so there was no chance it would work on me.
"You're a bit slow."
Besides, its raw physical ability wasn't particularly outstanding, so the attacks themselves were pretty sluggish. If I had to compare, it felt about like Dok Su-hee back on Floor 3. In other words, it wasn't a match for me right now.
I tilted my head back to evade the scythe and at the same time snatched the shaft with my left hand. Physically, I was far superior. I could manage its two-handed strength with just one hand.
Whik!
The mannequin immediately let go of the scythe I'd grabbed and dove for my lower body—trying to take me down with some kind of wrestling move.
Crack!
But the instant it lunged in, I drove my knee hard into its jaw, snapping its neck back around ninety degrees. It didn't move anymore.
"Huff."
The elevator doors, which had been shut, slid open. It wasn't an easy opponent, but it wasn't that hard either. The man with the mole was even more of a scrub than I'd guessed. Or maybe not? Am I just too used to fighting?
"Still, if it's this manageable, difficulty 15 should be pretty easy."
Feeling relieved, I boarded the elevator again. The short-haired woman clearly looked stronger than the man with the mole, so she could probably handle difficulty 20. The woman with glasses and the acne-faced man were the real question marks... but since I'd shaved another 5 off for them, they should be able to clear it safely too. The odds of passing the second test now looked high.
But at that moment, I still didn't know.
The real hurdle would be the final test.