Clearing the Impossible Floor

I knew that goblins—straight out of some fantasy novel—actually showed up in the Doom Tower. But no matter where I looked, there were no goblins, just these pretty little butterflies flapping around wildly. Is this the Super Special Very Easy Mode…?

"Ugh, haha… whoaaaaa!!"

I was so hyped I felt like I was flying. I spent the next several dozen minutes bouncing around like an idiot, howling at the top of my lungs. I'd been chosen for some hidden difficulty no one had ever heard of. Even after all that screaming, no moving statues from the other towers, no venomous bugs, no man-eating beasts, no fantasy monsters like goblins showed up. Just the butterflies, startled into fluttering away.

"Wait a sec."

While I was losing my mind like that? Come to think of it, there were only three hours left until the next massacre. No one in the world was cheesing the towers like me. I needed to clear this fast—

I bolted off in a panic, but then a realization hit me, and I gradually slowed to a stop.

"Oh. Easy Mode."

Climbing the tower didn't depend on the difficulty. But fully clearing it to extend the curse by a year? That was only possible for Survival difficulty climbers. That's why, despite hordes of people rushing in, only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the pitiful Easy difficulty floors got cleared.

Now that I thought about it, I was on Easy Mode, right? No matter how hard I tried here, I couldn't clear the tower. It was like a game dev slapping an invisible wall to block you from progressing past a certain map—systematically impossible.

The foam in my beer mug vanished in an instant, revealing the pathetic dregs at the bottom. My excitement crashed just as fast, leaving a hollow void in its wake.

Climbers died too, just like everyone else. In the end, I was still living on borrowed time…?

Lost in those thoughts, the beautiful forest scenery faded from view. I wandered aimlessly along the path smoothed out like it was made for climbers.

"Whoa. So this is what it looks like."

It was like a Vietnam War booby trap—a sinkhole yawning open out of nowhere, filled with spikes that impaled you. The traps differed only in number, sharpness, density, and camouflage. This was the trap from the Doom Tower Floor 1 Hard difficulty, right in front of me.

The difference? It was blanketed in colorful play balls, like some kid's ball pit.

I reached down tentatively, touching the balls and the floor beneath. No sharp edges, no new traps. Hell, there were even cushions to protect my ankles.

I couldn't help but let out a hollow chuckle. It felt like modding the shit out of a dark fantasy game.

"How many goblins was that just now?"

More precisely, butterflies labeled as goblins. There were a ton of them, but the details were fuzzy. At least five, I figured…

Before entering, I'd skimmed Hard difficulty guides. No mentions of shield-bearers or archers. These must be new additions for Doom difficulty.

Hard had one hobgoblin—a muscle-bound green monster as tall as an adult man. Honestly, even Normal seemed impossible for humans. People freak out over a wild dog; now imagine a bipedal monster charging at you with a weapon, intent on killing. In a place with no healing?

And I forgot to bring a weapon…

But judging by the difficulty name, I probably didn't need one. No monsters were popping up now anyway.

As I walked, a massive cave yawned open in a sheer cliff face.

"This is Hard."

Defeat the hobgoblin guarding this cave, and Hard climbers could clear Doom Tower Floor 1 and move to the next. A normal climber would've lost the will to fight by now, bleeding out at the sight of man-sized murder machines.

But…

"Sunflowers?"

Right in front of the cave entrance stood two sunflowers, as tall as a grown man. Nameplates hovered above their heads, like they were standing guard.

Without those labels, I'd have walked right past. Monster names floating over their heads wasn't mentioned anywhere, but maybe Super Whatever Easy Mode made the system extra user-friendly?

It was a small perk, but compared to internet or government info, it felt like a goddess's gift. Like one of those Chinese gacha games handing out 2000 free pulls at the start.

Two hobgoblins here, though? Guides said one for Hard.

"Huff! Hoo! Hah!"

I swung my right leg and right arm in sync, a intimidating punch that snapped the sunflower's stem with ease. After two swings, the frail hobgoblins were done. I stared blankly at the sunflower heads on the ground.

"Any second now…"

Clear message should pop up. Government Doom Tower Floor 1 info said Hard climbers got theirs right away.

Minutes passed. No message. Puzzled, it hit me—I'd overlooked the basics.

"Wait, hobgoblins?"

This was Super… uh, that long-ass name. Easy Mode normally ended with four unarmed goblins rushing you. But I'd gotten armed special goblins from Normal, and now hobgoblins from Hard.

Of course, my perks turned them into butterflies and flowers. Still, two things labeled hobgoblins had guarded the cave.

Why hadn't I noticed sooner? Was I too hung up on not being able to clear because it was Easy? Or obsessed with the word "Easy"?

I eyed the cave. Easy to Hard shared the same space, just with varying monster difficulty and ecology. From Survival, you could pass the tower's invisible "wall."

For Doom Tower Floor 1 Hard climbers, the end came right as they tried entering this cave—they got teleported to the waiting area.

I swallowed hard, sweat dripping unnoticed, and extended my trembling arm.

"It went through."

My arm slipped into the cave like it was the most natural thing, vanishing into the darkness. I flailed both arms like swimming through water, stepping forward. Nothing blocked me; the cave let me in.

"What happens now?"

Could I clear the tower? The thought sparked, and the curse timer flashed in my mind.

I'd been here less than 30 minutes. Two and a half hours left…

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

"Man, it's pitch black in here."

The cave was damp, water dripping plink-plink, too dark to see a foot ahead. It looked deep at a glance…

Then, a ding like an effect sound, and the cave lit up—like someone cranked the brightness in a panic. Not daylight bright, but enough to see.

"Still, a cave should have sharp rocks or something, right? Ow… tripping's one thing, but what if I bust my head…"

As I muttered, the cave rippled like living guts, jagged edges smoothing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into craftsman-polished stone.

"System? Whoever you are, you're the best."

I trudged through the dark cave. Was this what it felt like inside a thriving underground world? Soft light illuminated the vast interior, the stone floor manicured like a tourist path. Each breath filled my lungs with cool, humid cave air.

Felt like strolling a UNESCO natural heritage site. Who'd have thought yesterday's moldy shut-in would end up here?

"Whoa."

The massive cave opened into a sunlit clearing, ceiling breached, sunlight pouring down. Moss slick with dew carpeted the ground, emerald cave lake behind a giant tree. Phone-worthy scenery.

But in my view, clashing with the nature, was a massive painting—like one in a gallery.

Up close, a label hovered helpfully.

Against a prehistoric Earth backdrop, a centipede the size of a mid-sized car coiled around a bull, devouring it.

"Fuck! What the hell is this?!"

Bugs made my skin crawl; I leaped back. Even painted, it was grotesque enough to wound me. The bull in the pic looked just as horrified, eyes brimming with tears, mouth agape in a scream.

"Fuck. This is the Survival boss? On Floor 1? Holy shit. Urgh— that painting's nasty. Something like that is alive and breathing in the tower?"

Outside, agencies desperately analyzed what breathed in the Doom Tower Survival to save humanity. If they saw this, they'd slam shut every file and nuke the tower.

Useless against a physics-defying tower, but it'd cheer 'em up a bit.

"So I could've fought that thing?"

If I wasn't the one chosen out of 8 billion, I'd be battling this giant centipede right now? Or maybe I'd have died at goblins? Either way, chills.

"Survival climbers… what the hell did you fight…?"

Seeing this, even folks cursing climbers as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠useless every time the curse killed would nod in understanding.

Riiip!

I tore the paper to shreds, and blue text floated up.

Instinctively, I summoned the window climbers could call up.

You've extended the tower curse for the first time. Humanity survives another year.

*****

"Status Window!"

Never thought I'd yell that for real. Saving billions? The feels hit different.

It was a status window, but just as I expected—barely anything there. High-floor superhumans owed their power to skills. Shouldn't there be some level-up explosion by now?

As I grumbled, a message appeared.

Three items floated before me. I swiped—wanted them all, but could only pick one.

"Imprints, as expected."

Towers had no bog-standard levels. With escalating difficulty per floor, normals couldn't clear forever. Hence skills, physique, and imprints to aid climbers.

Low-grade skills were easy to snag, but imprints? Rare as hell. Never in Easy or Normal, and even Hard had only a handful of reports.

Recognized imprint owners: Origin Tower and Cycle Tower first clearers.

I cheesed it, but I was Doom Tower's first clearer too. Deserved.

Thinking that made me feel like the protagonist, master of the world. Those two clearers were from world-famous elite families—tons of support, intel, elite training. Now I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with globally renowned figures.

And the system that made them legends? Imprints.

Passive type—body stats stacking and improving over time. Strength and Acceleration were obvious; Resistance… stamina or something?

True to Doom Tower's infamy, these beat what the first two got. Which to pick?