The 132nd Retaker

In the beginning, the Tower was simply a disaster.

A tower that had erupted one day in every corner of the world. Inside it dwelled monsters of a form utterly alien to any existing ecosystem. On a regular cycle, those monsters would burst out and smash cities to pieces — what other word could possibly describe it but calamity?

Humanity, however, turned out to be remarkably adaptable. More precisely, people began to focus on what the Tower had to offer. Monster corpses yielded resources that had never existed on Earth, and inside the Tower, magic stones and rare materials poured forth in abundance. Technology advanced on the back of it all. As plenty arrived to match the destruction, the Tower became, almost overnight, a colossal industrial facility propping up the world economy.

...Lately, though, public opinion had been slowly drifting back toward the early days. The old thesis — that the Tower was divine punishment, a scourge upon mankind — was raising its head again.

Countries whose climbs lagged behind were the first to feel the creeping effects. Of course, for now, they could weather the crisis for a while by requesting aid from the higher-ranked climbing nations — the shakier ones were still scraping together some means of survival. But what if more time passed? What if things grew so severe that such stopgaps could no longer hold?

It was impossible not to think about it. And so the current mood was threaded with worry and scattered disputes — and, utterly indifferent to all of it, buried in the basement floor where coarse jokes had become a way of life,

"...Eh, they'll figure it out themselves. Not my problem."

a man was challenging his 132nd promotion exam.

Today, I dared to call it a special day. I would be accepting no counterarguments.

"Because today is finally the day I clear the 5th floor!!!"

Kaa-kaa-kaa—

A hollow echo rang through the waiting stage. Hearing my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠own voice, I awkwardly scratched the back of my head for a moment.

"...Am I being a bit too hyped?"

Still, it couldn't be helped. With college exams or civil service exams, most people started frothing at the mouth after two or three retakes. Re-challenging an exam you'd failed over and over was just that grueling an ordeal.

And me? This was attempt number one hundred thirty-two.

"This time, I'm really clearing it."

This wasn't the shamanistic "I've got a good feeling about this one" that serial retakers always invoked. My current specs were more than enough to pass the 5th-floor trial.

"Ha."

A sight that struck me anew every time I looked at it. Granted, the recommended average stats for the 5th-floor trial were a bit higher than this — an average of 18 or so per stat, meaning a combined total of about 70 across the four.

...But that was for active-duty players. I had already made it partway through the 5th-floor trial even with my pathetic stats. By my calculations, this was more than enough.

"If this weren't the exam floor, I'd have spent more points."

I pushed this far precisely because the difficulty was already mapped out, and this floor restored any damage from a failed run. Otherwise, I'd have dumped the rest of my points without hesitation.

"There you are, my hard-earned points."

Just looking at them filled me up. Only natural, having tasted firsthand what those points could do.

So far, the total points I'd spent on growth was a mere 80. That was the price of slamming the discounted stat-boost product — the first-purchase bonus — into every single stat once. And even that slight expenditure had brought a transformation worthy of the word rebirth.

To other players, it might mean nothing. But to me, even that tiny growth carried enormous implications. And right now I had 2,600 points sitting there. Dumped entirely into stats, that was thirteen more upgrades — and that's not even counting the first-purchase discount.

"It won't climb as sharply as it did at first, though..."

That much I'd anticipated, which is why I hadn't splurged. Even my current gains varied wildly: Strength and Magic up 5, Stamina up 4, Agility up 2. Whether that gradient came purely down to luck or some other factor was in play — I had no way to know.

Frankly, if I had a guarantee of even +2 per stat, spending every point would be worth it. But that possibility was a coin flip, and where was the urgency? I am the basement-dwelling spirit of Korea's Tower. I have no grand ambition of blazing up to the top floors to save Korea and the world.

"...And I don't even know what happens if a character dies."

The assumption that a pre-rolled hero would be automatically selected was exactly that — an assumption. What if registering or rolling a new hero required points?

That's how it was — points could only be earned through the heroes. If I squandered points recklessly and then found myself unable to register a new hero later? There was no stupidity quite on that level.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

So I decided to put off spending them a little longer.

Beeeep—!

With a sharp signal tone, the hollow chamber warped. And then the phrase I had seen so many times — the phrase that had always delivered despair — appeared dead center in my vision.

The surrounding environment transformed next. The hollow space, once a bare circular tunnel, became a chaos of half-collapsed bunkers and tangled monsters.

Ke-rererrek—! Gwoooook—!

"Looking disgustingly cheerful to see me, you bastards."

Goblins greeted me immediately with their cries — green-skinned monsters about the size of an upper-elementary or middle-schooler. Any ordinary adult man could beat them without much trouble, especially with a gap in armament. No player worth the name got scared of a one-on-one with a goblin.

Except, of course, the freshly hatched chicks who'd just entered the Tower.

Kekekeke—! Kek—! Kueeee—!

But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what if their numbers swelled? What if they moved under the orders of a grizzled, gray-haired alpha?

I've probably died here around seventy times.

Just slightly stronger than an adult man — that is, no stronger than a martial artist trained outside the Tower. Against numbers, that body was utterly outmatched. And so, at the end of those dozens of deaths, the choice I'd made was: run.

"Follow me, you bastards!"

Keheeek?Kurak! Uuuuu—!

I scooped up stones from the ground, hurled them, spun on my heel, and bolted. The goblins, mid-way into combat stances, went blank for a moment at the sheer absurdity of it. They'd never anticipated a sudden about-face and retreat.

And so the gap widened.

Ke-rererererek—!

Furious howls. With them, the goblins atop the bunkers came pouring after me in a horde. But even back when my physical stats were lower than they were now, they'd never caught me. These days I could put enough distance between us to honestly call it leisurely.

"You have no idea how many times I've run this play, you bastards."

Of course, I didn't run forever. A narrow passage west of the bunkers — in an alley just wide enough for a single person to squeeze into, I raised the automatically-issued sword and shield.

Kekekeke—! Kueee?

The goblins chasing me down gave out hearty laughter at the sight of me. They were fairly intelligent creatures. Probably mocking what they saw. Didn't I look for all the world like a rat cornered in a cage?

But I hadn't staged all this just to play Crown Prince Sadō of the 21st century.

Crack—! Kueeeeek—!

I slammed my shield down on the frontmost goblin mid-club-raise. My far-greater strength and the weight of the medium round shield proved more than enough to crush its skull. The goblin's head split open and it dropped on the spot. Only then seeming to grasp the situation, fear bloomed in the second goblin's eyes.

Keek—keeek—!

It turned to flee — but the alley was already jammed with a writhing knot of goblins. None of them could see what was happening ahead, and the alpha himself was wedged somewhere in that tangle. Orderly maneuvers were impossible. And so—

Crack—! Shick—! Thwack—!

The sound of shattering bone, of steel cleaving flesh. Nothing but goblin screams and fear-soaked wailing filled the alley. The moment the prey they thought they'd cornered transformed into the hunter.

Ke-eeeeek—!

The alpha, belatedly grasping what was happening, screamed a retreat — pointless. They were already tangled among themselves, surrendering their lives. The corpses of the slain goblins were trampled and ground down into mere hunks of meat.

"...So you're the one I finally catch, huh, bastard."

"Kerururuk—!"

The moment I faced the alpha goblin, tucked relatively deep in the back, I smiled broadly. This was the one I had never once managed to put down. I'd never been this dominant against the goblins before — I always retired halfway through the kill count.

Shuk—!

But a single thrust skewered its heart. I kicked the corpse of the creature that had died without offering any resistance ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠whatsoever off my blade.

"...Ha."

Thirty goblins in the outpost in total. After putting down every last one, I stared blankly up at the sky. An ending so easy it felt hollow. I honestly suspect I could have won without resorting to a tactic like this — if I simply avoided getting surrounded, I could handle two or three goblins at once.

A small emptiness. But what followed it, in even greater measure, was exhilaration.

"Let's finish this."

Finish all those long, grueling days.

Kwagagak—!

The black mass of flesh at the center of the outpost — the moment my sword pierced the Core of Erosion, a crack ran along the blade's path.

And then—

The phrase I had longed for all this time bloomed before my eyes. That alone was enough to move me to tears. But it didn't end there.

Ring—!

A single notification chime. And with it, one more message appeared.

"...Huh?"