The Regressor Endures (4)
The Regressor Endures (4)
"What's with that guy?"
"Just ignore him."
I lay sprawled on a bench, enduring the stares of passersby while I sorted out my thoughts.
"Hmm..."
When I was told I'd have to tackle this floor solo... let's not use myself as the baseline. Imagine some anonymous Player A.
Decent level, passable weapon skills, recently awakened mana, one usable Trait — a typical mid-tier player, a little behind the curve, currently around Floor 10. Yet somehow they've made it all the way here.
If that mid-tier player faced me, they'd be suppressed within ten seconds. Even if they mustered their clumsy mana, it wouldn't come close to contending with Cold Energy. And even if I didn't use Cold Energy, the gap in swordsmanship alone is too vast. For the record, ten seconds is the benchmark for suppression. If I were aiming to kill, it'd be over in under a second.
In the first place, I'd evenly boosted my stats through Achievement Levels, repeatedly regressed to snatch up every juicy reward, and—
"Hmmmm..."
But even this unremarkable mid-tier player could beat a truckload of ordinary people. Guns? Even Choi Ji-won and I have trouble dodging bullets, so let's set aside modern weaponry — firearms, missiles, bombs. Outside of those — arrows, clubs, tasers, baseball bats — an ordinary person can't beat a player, no matter what they try.
In reality, some gambling site once matched a no-name mid-tier player against a professional fighter. The fighter dodged skillfully, accumulating damage, only to get his bones shattered and pass out from a single mistake. That's what happens when base specs are mismatched.
So why did I bring up mid-tier players? To emphasize just how safe the modern world is for a player.
Does that mean players are invincible? No. A sniper's bullet to the head kills them. A missile kills them. A nuke kills them. But when you haven't drawn nation-level aggro, just surviving is absurdly easy. Running, hiding, misleading — lying low for about a week is a piece of cake.
"Maybe a meteorite falls."
That's why I'm expecting a fantastical event, not a typical modern-day scenario. Maybe a meteorite falls from the sky. Or maybe a gate opens and monsters pour out. Could even be a zombie outbreak.
Whatever it is, I was expecting the end of this world. The word "Survival" carries that much weight. Floor 4 backs up my prediction.
"..."
If that happens, clearing the floor is one problem, but my mental state is the bigger issue. Say a zombie outbreak occurs. Me surviving? Not hard. But what about all the ordinary people?
Dozens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands — maybe more — will die pointlessly. They'll scream in agony, desperately beg me to save them, to help them. If an apocalypse on a global scale unfolds, there's little I alone can do. Even if I give it my all, people will die regardless.
Their dying screams, their curses, will wear away at my mind. This place is too vivid, too familiar, to dismiss them as just people inside the Tower anyway. The moment I grow numb to their deaths here, I'll surely grow numb to the deaths of people in reality, too.
"...First, I'll try my best. And if that doesn't work, I'll go the regression route."
The best approach is to use regression to eliminate the root cause. Until then, I'll do everything I can. If it fails, I'll just regress.
The problem is, my course of action hinges on what kind of disaster this is. If it's a disaster where humans harm humans — like a zombie virus or an epidemic — I should head somewhere remote, like the mountains or the sea. But if it's an indiscriminate disaster like a meteorite or a gate, then a bustling urban area with infrastructure and thorough preparations is actually better.
"Let's stay in the city for now."
Anyway, I'll find out in a few hours. No need to take a risky gamble right now. For the moment, I'll stay in the city, witness the true nature of the disaster, and then regress. That won't be too late.
I'll save as many people as possible. If the situation goes beyond my ability, I'll give up, regress, and preserve my sanity. I'll gather as much information as I can. If possible, I'll eliminate the root cause and end everything the moment I first enter Floor 21. That should be enough.
"Okay."
Having organized my thoughts, I tried to sleep on the park bench to conserve my strength for the morning.
"I don't smell any alcohol... Sir! Sir! We received a report! If you sleep here, you'll freeze to death!"
"...Police?"
"Yes. Police. We'll escort you home, so could you tell us your address? Ah, and show us some ID as well."
"Damn."
"Sir? Sir! Where are you going!"
Because some good citizen had reported me to the police, I had to flee from the park.
"...This is miserable."
Is this how migrant workers feel? A person with no ID, no money, no way to prove who they are can't live normally in modern society.
Even without a survival mission, I was essentially a fugitive anyway.
**
The next morning. 8 AM.
"Phew..."
Seemed like I'd managed about thirty minutes of sleep. I quietly rose from the secluded thicket. The area was damp, more crawling with bugs and animals than people, but the Cold Energy I'd subtly spread had frozen the moisture into a dry floor and driven off the bothersome insects.
"The pad is..."
The iPad I'd carefully held to my chest was fine. I'd worried it might break from the Cold Energy or from moisture getting inside, but that didn't seem to be the case. I rolled my slightly stiff shoulders, checked that my armor was fine, and then lay back down to check the iPad.
"Mm..."
First, I checked social media, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. People were talking about their own things; there wasn't a word about any unusual situations.
Next, I checked a news channel.
"If you have seen this girl, please call 911 immediately."
The news channel I opened on the iPad was strange. They'd blown up a picture of some girl to fill the background, and the anchor's tone was very grave.
"We earnestly ask for the citizens' active cooperation. Thank you."
No, it wasn't just the news.
"...There's a missing child report on the front page of the paper."
The newspaper.
"Do they normally run ads for missing children?"
"YouTube's been weird lately. Guess that's just how it is."
YouTube.
"Whoa, that startled me."
"Why'd they put some kid's picture up that big."
The electronic billboard.
The girl's face was plastered on every publicity platform a country could mobilize. Round eyes, pale skin, a hint of baby fat still lingering. She looked about fifth grade to first year of middle school.
What was odd was that it wasn't a candid daily-life photo — it was a straight-on mugshot like a criminal's. And the background was stark white.
"...This is weird."
I'd never seen anything like it. Truly bizarre. I've seen missing child posters stuck on walls, but advertising one this heavily is a first.
Sure, if it were a kidnapping, it'd make sense for the news to cover it. It's been confirmed as a crime, so that's not strange. But a simple missing person case — not a kidnapping — blown up this much?
The doubt born from a strange sense of unease steadily grew until it was nearly a certainty. With all this happening right before 9 AM, calling it coincidence isn't naive; it's stupid.
"But how is that girl related to me..."
"Help... please help me, mister..."
So, just as I was pondering how this connected to the "Survival" mission, a pale, ghostly-white girl came staggering toward me.
"No way..."
No way? This is the Tower. I expected something like this from the start. The girl stumbling over... was the very same girl I'd just seen on the news.
Only then did I understand.
"Survive... so that's what it meant."
Doing something because you'll die if you don't — stepping up out of desperation to survive — isn't courage. That's survival instinct, something even a beast can do.
"Wait right there. I'll come to you."
Walking into the lion's den on your own two feet, knowing the danger — that's courage.