The Regressor Is Brave? (7)
I smashed through the walls and pushed on. Over and over. Over and over. No tension, no urgency—just the mechanical repetition of destruction.
"...Is this all there is?"
Rather than being afraid of the ghosts, I was starting to look forward to whatever popped out next. If I was going to win every fight anyway, was there any reason to fear them?
The less challenging the ghosts became, however, the worse my body fared in response. My heartbeat slowed, my lips turned blue, and my skin grew pale all over. My mana was flowing as well as ever—maybe even better than before—but my body simply couldn't endure the sustained output of cold energy. Even after investing in the 'Health' stat just before this floor, my condition had deteriorated this badly. If I'd entered without that investment, I might have regressed long ago.
Well, for now I was fine. This wasn't reality anyway, and the moment I returned, my body would be restored to peak condition. Overuse of mana left no lasting side effects, so I could afford to cut loose like this.
Still, in a corner of my mind, I couldn't help imagining what would have happened if I'd burned through cold energy so recklessly without regression to protect me. Or what if the regression threshold had been just a bit lower, and my regression point had already been locked in at a time when I'd already used up too much cold energy?
I would've probably died writhing from self-inflicted damage, or else climbed to the top of the tower only to die young. The fact that using my full power would trigger regression was a restriction, yes—but, ironically, it was also a shield that safeguarded my body.
"Focus. Focus."
I cut off my idle thoughts and refocused on smashing the walls.
I did feel like resting. No matter how superhuman I'd become, repeating acts of destruction endlessly was agonizing and exhausting. I wanted to sprawl out somewhere and sleep, but if I fell asleep here, I felt sure I'd get dragged back into that dream hospital. So I couldn't.
Just a little more. Just a little more.
After killing a giant eyeball with around three hundred human ears attached to its body, I emptied my mind and tore through the corridor. If Floor 24 was this long, how in the world was anyone else supposed to clear it? They'd probably lose their minds before they could. Cursing the angels under my breath, I raised my sword again...
[The Angel in charge has requested a meeting.]
[ Y / N ]
"Huh?"
Was I just too exhausted? I was seeing things. I shook my head to clear away the distraction and lifted my sword again...
[The Angel in charge is desperately requesting a meeting.]
[ Y / N ]
"...?"
What's going on now?
**
Normally, when people hear the phrase 'mental hospital,' the image that comes to mind first is deeply frightening and negative. That's why most people hesitate to set foot in one.
Naturally, the staff are well aware of this image, so they put a lot of effort into making the atmosphere as comfortable and warm as possible. They place potted plants in the consultation rooms, use cozy colors for the interior, and make sure plenty of sunlight comes through large windows or keep the lights brightly on—that's the bare minimum. They don't even call themselves a 'Mental Hospital'; they go with something like 'Mental Health & Medical Clinic' instead.
And in truth, the vast majority of mental-hospital ghost stories are nothing but baseless rumors.
"Hey, there's only one rule in our hospital."
"Yes, Doctor."
"You must never, ever enter Room 404. Do you understand? No matter what happens. Never."
"...What?"
"Don't ask why. You'll find out as you work here."
...Except for this place.
A fairly large mental hospital located on the outskirts of the city center. Room 404 on Floor 4 is a place that must not be entered under any circumstances. So far, twelve nurses have gone insane, six workers called in to demolish the room strangled each other to death, and one police officer committed suicide by throwing himself naked from a height.
Room 404 must not be entered, no matter what. And even if someone does enter... they must never, ever fall asleep.
"That's the setting."
The Angel sitting on the worn-out bed in Room 404 finished her explanation. This was the first Angel I'd seen who wore glasses, and her hair wasn't the usual straight length but a short wavy perm. It looked like a pretty but rather easygoing female college student from an engineering school, I'd say.
"Climbers drift along the boundary between reality and nightmare, eventually discovering fragments of a broken key. The required number of fragments is three. The moment the full key is assembled, a mysterious door appears before them, and when they open it and step through, they 'wake up in reality' and regain their senses here in Room 404... That's how the floor was designed..."
The Angel pushed her glasses up with an index finger.
"They face these horrors, flee, and sometimes die... but soon, they wake up again in the hospital room, scrambling for a way out with their wits... It's a floor designed to test not just courage, but every faculty of a human being..."
"Riiight... so why did you call me here?"
Bang!
"How can you even say that right now!"
The moment I interrupted, the Angel slammed her fist—Bang!—against the bedframe.
"Are you mocking me? Huh? After everything you've done, you're asking me why I called you? A mere human... a human, of all things...!"
"No, no..."
What was this about? What did I do? I honestly felt wronged.
As I stood there dazed and unable to grasp the situation, the Angel flew into a hysterical rage, scratching furiously at her scalp and venting her fury.
"First, some man ruined his own brain to escape! Then some weird girl stored the key fragment in a subspace so she could keep it even after a game over, and that ponytailed woman just ignored the attacking ghosts and strolled right past them...! And you, you...! You are the worst of all!"
"..."
"Because of you, because of you...!"
"Please, just calm down a little and hear me out."
I could tell the Angel was incredibly angry, but from my point of view, I still didn't quite understand.
"So... uh. I admit that I cleared Floor 24 in a way the creator didn't intend."
"It's an exploit! A circumvention! This floor was so carefully designed...!"
"So... why did you request this meeting? I feel like I was almost through clearing it."
"Clear what?! My head is about to break apart!"
Was there really an Angel this irritable? Anael was practically a true angel by comparison. Though, I guess this one was still technically an angel.
"To be honest, the fact that you wandered around without finding the key fragments is no problem at all. One climber getting trapped forever out of the countless many? That happens all the time."
"...And?"
"Instead, you committed... you committed a... Please wait a moment."
The Angel broke off her rant and fell into deep thought. It sent a signal to call in another angel to hear a report, tapped its fingers in the air and peered intently at something, and then pulled a notebook from its robes and flipped through the pages—shrrk, shrrk.
It was probably deliberating whether or not to tell me something.
After a considerable amount of time passed, the Angel finally seemed to make up her mind.
"Very well. I will explain exactly what has happened. This is normally forbidden, but... I will explain it at my own discretion. To make you realize the scale of the terrible thing you've done."
The Angel clapped her hands twice, then swirled both hands in an arcane gesture, and after a moment, an indistinct, cloudy form began to rise from the floor.
"...That's... that doctor?"
"To be precise, it's a mental patient who believes they are a doctor. A soul who, after being driven mad by abuse at the hospital, came to genuinely believe the abuse they suffered was treatment. Though I wouldn't call them pitiable—they killed hundreds in life."
The bizarre figure with a doctor's head mirror where its eyes should be—the one who had once shoved a metal rod up my nostril—stood before me. The doctor's assistant.
"The horrors that appear on Floor 24, like this soul... were personally collected by the Archangel. Only the most unique and grotesque ones were hand-picked."
"Ahh~."
"You can likely tell just by looking, but this isn't the original. It's merely a copy, or a clone, broken off from the original."
"Ah, right."
I couldn't tell even by looking, but I nodded anyway.
"However, in order to exist inside the Tower, they must have a physical form and possess at least a fragment of a soul. I saw earlier that you have an awareness of your own soul, so I trust you at least know this much."
"Ah... Go on, please."
"Understood."
They were pouring out information I'd never heard in my life, but the moment I showed a reaction like 'Huh?', this Angel would clam up for sure. I had to keep my mouth shut here to get more out of it.
"The Archangel, who wished to create a floor that tested courage with the appearance of terrifying beings... designed it so that the cores of the horrors are stored in the 'Center of the World,' while the rest of their forms are fragmented and manifested in the Tower. This way, even if multiple 'Floor 24s' exist simultaneously, all participants can experience the same thing."
"...?"
"To put it on a human level... it's like storing the original on a massive server and then importing copies into the Tower. However, in order for them to exist within the Tower, each copy must contain a fragment of the original. This method is quite widespread now, but our Archangel was the first to use it."
So, the monsters that appear here had their originals stored separately, and only copies appeared in the Tower—was that it?
If two people entered the same floor simultaneously, there would need to be two monsters, so it seemed like a pretty reasonable method.
"The problem is that since all these horrors are in soul-form, they are extremely vulnerable to external impact. Think of them as porcelain that shatters at a single tap. Because they carry a fragment of the original, any damage to the copy harms the original as well. So, to prevent the horrors from being destroyed, the Archangel set the floor to restrict a climber's actions the moment they enter the corridor, but..."
"But...?"
"But you... you smashed them all to pieces!! Those delicate horrors! With that brutish sword!!! Using an error!"
"Uh..."
"Because of you... the majority of the originals stored in the Center of the World have been damaged! Copying has become impossible! If I hadn't requested this meeting, the damage would have been even worse! What do you plan to do about this?! When the Archangel returns, what am I supposed to do?! When a new climber enters Floor 24, they'll think it's just an empty space! Because no horrors will appear!"
"Uh..."
So... the monsters on Floor 24 were actually incredibly vulnerable to attack and weren't supposed to be touched...
And I'd gone and killed them all?
And because each copy held a fragment of the original, the rebound from me killing the copies had killed all the originals too—meaning they would never appear on Floor 24 again?
This... this is...
"...?"
From a human's perspective, isn't this a win?