Survival Report

The open community was similar to other online communities in many ways, but it had its differences too. For starters, it was a complete real-name system. Every post had the author's actual name and server tag attached. There were occasional cases of people with the same name on the same server, but unique profile tags made it easy to distinguish them. Thanks to that, the usual trolls didn't pop up much. Of course, there were the occasional crazies who went nuts under their real ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠names.

Unlike other communities, a certain level of cliquey talk and @mentions were allowed. Back in the day, the Tower of Trials was a seriously dangerous place. Everyone dragged in by an invitation had to risk their lives, and plenty lost them in the end. Nowadays, strategies up to Floor 100 were solid, and safe Ranker buses were common, but that didn't mean all risks were gone. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Strategies only mattered if you mastered and executed them perfectly, and even Ranker buses could wipe if something went wrong. It was safer than before, sure, but climbing the Tower was inherently riskier than extreme sports.

That's why cliquey talk was tolerated under the excuse that at least someone should pass on news of death. Besides, given the Tower's churn rate, it wasn't a big issue anyway. Aside from Rankers stubbornly holing up inside, most challengers eventually cleared Floor 100 and left.

- Didn't this guy die on Floor 1? Still alive?

The community folks, who'd seen me spam dumb posts daily, naturally assumed I was dead when I vanished without a trace. Plenty even thought I'd gone insane stuck on Floor 1 and offed myself—not killed by the boss, but trapped and suicidal. Probably because my posts stopped right after I got my mom's death notice. Not entirely wrong, honestly. I did die then. And got reborn as a new person. At least, that's how I see it.

"Fuck me."

I'd sworn off community shit entirely, but with the massive misunderstanding, maybe I should clear it up.

Every refresh added a full page of comments. The reaction was way hotter than expected. Most asked how I'd soloed the Floor 1 boss, what my specs were like now. Then came the cheers for my fresh start. Not just the usual ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠community ghosts, but even quiet Rankers showed up to drop support. The flood of attention—stuff I'd never gotten before—felt good for a sec.

But seriously, how do you raise spirit affinity, you fucks?

I muted the nonstop comment alerts and closed the community window. Staring at replies all day would've wasted it entirely. I'd check the rest after looping the labyrinth. Geared up again and cut through the village center to the labyrinth entrance.

The entrance spat out the same message as Floor 1. Moments later, a new monster greeted me.

- Grrrrowl...

Low growl just like the field wolves, looked damn near identical too. Except the head. Floor 2 labyrinth mobs were kobolds—slightly bigger than goblins, with dog heads. Spotting me, it slobbered and charged, head low.

Speed was meh. Slower than field wolves, even.

- Bam!

I swung my shield hard; it flew like Floor 1 goblins and crashed. Trash mob at the entrance, weak as hell. No real difference from goblins.

Kobolds had better size and physicals than goblins, sure. But my stats had jumped so much it didn't matter. It wasn't about how they stacked against goblins—it was against me.

"Yo, you dead?"

I called to the flipped kobold way off. It wouldn't understand, but it sprang up. Eyes glowing fierce red.

The big thing about Floor 2 labyrinth's main mob, kobolds: berserk mode when HP drops. They fought with weapons normally, but low HP made 'em lose it—ditch arms for savage bites and claws, tearing in for bleeds.

- Grooowl!

Berserk kobold rushed faster than before. I casually kicked out.

- Crack!

One hit, red crit effect, instant death. Berserk or not, trash was trash. Pattern changes weren't threats anymore. XP was halved anyway, worthless to bother.

"Guess that leaves treasure, then."

I pulled up the community map for Floor 2 labyrinth and hit treasure hunt for the first time in ages.

**

With my agility jacked, hunting chests was lightning-fast compared to before. Labyrinth wasn't huge like Floor 1 either, so chests were few. Hours later, I'd swept the whole place, looted everything.

Didn't get much, though. One big chest, three-four mediums, maybe ten smalls.

Only decent loot was this. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A bulky belt bumping strength by 1. Belt slot was empty, so spec boost, but too minor to feel. Levels stagnant, no special quests. Floor 2 gains were mostly from the shepherd girl quest. Killing kobolds wouldn't top wolf grinding XP. Dumb grinding for one-hand sword mastery or levels? Possible, but pointless.

"So, this is it."

Just two days after hitting Floor 2, I stood before the boss room door. Seemed hasty, but I was confident. Goblin Lord wasn't bad, field bosses Robo and Blanca down in two rooms. Community clears pegged Floor 2 boss easy. Lowest clear: 5-man party around Lv. 25. Vs. Floor 1's 7 Lv. 18s—not much diff. I'd surpassed those 7 post-Goblin Lord. Even vs. 5 Lv. 25s, I'd win now. I trusted my grind.

- Creak.

No hesitation, flung the door open. Alert flashed. Inside waited a massive bipedal wolf.