Echoes of the Second Floor Conquest
Westminster Grace, the Origin Tower Survival climber. She was entertaining a guest who had come to visit her family estate.
Under normal circumstances, she—who was one of the most important figures not just in her family but in all of humanity—would be receiving the utmost hospitality and lounging in her room. But the person before her eyes wasn't someone she could rudely turn away at the door.
Clink.
"Thank you, Miss Grace. But... what is this?"
"It's anchovy pie. A British delicacy. Please, eat up. Hehe."
The man twitched the corners of his mouth, his eyes fluttering wildly. He gulped unnecessarily and forced an awkward smile. He seemed deeply moved that she, of all people, had cooked for him. For a successful business deal, this level of consideration was nothing. After all, relationships in business thrived on sincerity, didn't they?
"Grace... er... no. Let's eat first."
Her father, the family head Westminster Brandon, picked up his fork and knife with a queasy expression. When was the last time he'd eaten something like this? About six years ago, he thought. Yeah... it was a Thursday. And raining, too. He'd banned her from the kitchens for the sake of his beloved daughter, but her status as a Survival climber in the spire had surpassed even his own as her father... so he couldn't stop her.
"I'm so sorry the others couldn't join. I only have one body, after all... Next time you visit, I'll make sure to treat you all."
The men who appeared to be the guest's attendants all responded to Grace's words with praises like "No need," and "We'll graciously accept your noble intent," while eyeing the steaks before them. Their expressions somehow looked brighter.
No one minded chatting about unrelated topics after the family head had spoken—it might seem rude at a glance, but the Westminster family wasn't one to fuss over etiquette, and everyone there knew how close the father and daughter were. Above all... from the moment the spire appeared, Grace had been the star of the Westminster family.
After the meal came teatime. Finally, the man who'd come to the estate broached the subject.
"We need to make a decision soon."
"Mm... China makes me uncomfortable."
"We understand that. But trade and diplomacy are inseparable. The other European nations will understand."
To be precise, if they didn't understand, they'd be made to. The spire's appearance was a massive threat to humanity, but it brought equally enormous profits. Magic stones, skill stones and skill books brought back by climbers, countless byproducts and gathered materials... The spire represented tremendous economic potential, and seizing that opportunity boiled down to whether a nation had a Survival climber or not.
The country offering Grace the best terms was none other than China. Cooperation with China? It felt shady, but at least when it came to profits, they didn't lie. Even people who hated China loved its market. But she was British. A member of a noble house, no less. She had to coordinate with the other European nations, too.
"...France has promised a stake in EDF. They want a long-term partnership."
EDF was a nuclear energy giant producing 22% of the EU's energy all by itself—a mad enterprise. Offering even a portion of its shares was an absurd proposal. Wasn't it basically saying they'd share France's energy hegemony? That was the limit for nations without even a Hard climber, let alone Survival.
'To be exact, they're scared that the energy hegemony will be shaken by the existence of magic stones—but yeah.'
She could trade with anyone. But the moment she did, one side would erupt in discontent. Trade with the EU? Fine. But... she couldn't forget that long-term, cooperation with China was the right answer. The existence of a Survival climber plus an economy backed by 1.5 billion people... Above all, China had the highest absolute number of climbers matching its population, and they were shoving them into the tower without regard for human rights.
Cruel? Yes. Cruel. From her perspective, having experienced the tower herself, it was an intolerable act. But... if judging by national competitiveness rather than morality?
Money had no good or evil. That was why capital was flooding into China. If humanity's lifespan kept extending? In 10 years, 20 years? At least within the spire, China would surpass America. Monopolizing spire resources, repeated conquests, and tribute of rewards. Numerical superiority would become qualitative dominance.
No... no need to overthink international politics and diplomacy. What mattered to them was the Westminster family's interests.
"Then, let's go with—"
All towers' 2nd floors have been cleared. The tower's curse has been postponed.
Deadline: 462 days, 15 hours, 24 minutes, 18 seconds
The tower selects new climbers.
In 24 hours, all climbers will be imposed with the 2nd Floor Joint Trial.
The concept of the 2nd Floor Joint Trial is Origin.
"Ooh? Ahh?! Wha—?!"
She nearly spat out her tea in an utterly unladylike manner without realizing it.
"Miss Grace?"
"Darling...? What on earth, a lady shouldn't—"
A system message visible only to climbers. Unlike her usual poised demeanor, she gaped with her mouth wide open, flailing her fingers at thin air. Ignoring the guests right in front of her.
"Miss Grace? Is something wrong?"
As the servants anxiously checked on her while minding the guests, she suddenly shouted.
"Floor 2! Floor 2 has been cleared!"
At those words, the guest—the British Foreign Secretary—shot to his feet without thinking. Screeech—the chair toppled backward with a loud crash, but no one cared.
Three years of failure after failure, only failures in conquering the spire—and now success two years in a row.
"The Doom Tower... that Survivalist did it."
Origin and Cycle had already cleared Floor 2. The problem was Doom Tower, said to have the harshest trials. That was why no new Survival climbers had appeared in over half a year.
So, there could only be one person who'd cleared Floor 2.
"It seems we should postpone this agenda."
Euphoria mixed with massive bewilderment at the sudden turn, but he was the head of a national agency. In 24 hours, the Joint Trial would begin. Unifying and commanding the forced-participating climbers, procuring and distributing enhancement stones and skill books... And even reviewing the guidebook compiling responses to all spire trials so far, though it wasn't fully complete yet.
Time was short.
Along with the Doom Tower Floor 2 message, similar scenes unfolded worldwide.
Of course, it was an atmosphere deliberately cultivated by the governments.
Such logic. Journalists who would normally cry media censorship and resist easily acquiesced. As media outlets, they'd witnessed cultists' and doomsayers' terrorism and crimes, the resulting damages, and the pain of countless climbers' bereaved families.
And given the situation, no media had the guts to rebel while nations seriously debated spire issues like wartime. The government wasn't waging unjust wars or immoral acts—just asking them not to foster gloom.
But the climbers' perspective was different.
"Climber count at 720k now? Not sure if half or fixed 200k."
"Even folks who never entered got dragged last time. What's the criteria? Random?"
At the 1st Floor Joint Trial, climbers numbered just over 400k, with 200k forced in—fair question. But...
"Why not just shove 'em all in?"
"...!! Brilliant idea. Haha!"
At the informal summit, that remark drew broad smiles and applause from the leaders present. Citizen oppression? Human rights abuse? If everyone did it under the banner of humanity's survival, no problem.
Thus, governments tacitly agreed to "encourage" media execs, and news flooded out like copy-pastes.
"What the fuck is this shit?"
Some beefy dude flashing double thumbs-up with "Proud of you protecting our nation...!" Since the 2nd Floor Joint Trial's concept was Origin, he'd lain in bed surfing for Origin Tower info—and this was the mess.
Spire communities worldwide looked the same. Governments putting on a show? Anyway, they were wielding carrot and stick to urge active Joint Trial participation.
'It's kinda right though...'
If not just the forced 200k from 1st Floor, but all remaining climbers had joined, the trial difficulty would've plummeted.
"But why thumbs-up from beefcakes, street performances from rappers, and girls stripping for climber cheer dance challenges?"
Swipe. Swipe.
The dances were at least easy on the eyes. A hundred times better than the beefcake.
"Gahhh!! Fuck off!!"
A flushed guy sticking out his tongue over his abs pic made him fumble his phone. Was the world going mad? After three years of hell, a breather and everyone's lost it. Yeah, it'll pass in a few days.
He tossed his phone aside and hit the spire community. Still scanning posts hunting his identity or praising him, one title caught his eye.
Endorsed by Climber Association. Unregistered? Use recommended VPN or incognito for full tower data without tracking worries.
Predicts all Joint Trial scenarios based on all Origin, Cycle and Doom data with countermeasures. Also lists verified commanders for trial leadership.
"Such a thing exists?"
Internet had zilch on real info—turns out crucial stuff gets linked in climber-only spire communities. He bolted to the nearest PC bang, hunkered in an empty corner seat. Squinting, he pecked out the link eagle-style, downloaded the recommended VPN, and pored over the post.
Cyber Investigation Team and NIS. Despite different affiliations, the two groups with tight ties gathered in one conference room. More precisely, a few from each were dispatched to Superintendent Kang Seong-cheol's Super Disaster Response Agency.
"Sir? Link access logged at Clannic PC Bang seat 129."
"...!! Gotcha, another bite! Pull CCTV now."
Did climbers know? That they—no, nearly every government—were getting real-time intel shared from global VPN companies?
"Yes sir!"
Kang Seong-cheol was in high spirits. 24th catch today alone.