Doom Tower Floor 1 - Chapter 4: Blue House National Crisis Management Center

Cheongwadae National Crisis Management Center. [Deadline: 1 hour 41 minutes 28 seconds]

The president, cabinet members, and military officials had all been summoned. The room was filled with an array of prestigious figures, and given the gravity of the situation, the atmosphere was so solemn that no one dared even breathe loudly.

The reason was obvious—that damned spire had brought humanity right to the brink, with the deadline looming.

"…What did the Americans say?"

At the president's question, the Minister of National Defense replied with a grim expression.

"No changes to the plan. In fact… it seems they've concluded that clearing Doom Tower Floor 1 is impossible again this time."

Plan. The word made everyone listening flinch.

It was the plan to pour every ounce of firepower into the most likely location of the spire's core, based on satellite observations—a true test of humanity's technological pinnacle.

Of course, this plan had failed multiple times. The tower was impervious to everything from ordinary missiles to thermobaric bombs, biochemical weapons, lasers, and any other method.

How could physical force affect beings that existed like holograms—present yet absent, a dimension beyond human perception?

And… the final stage of this plan inevitably led to nuclear bombs. It was feasible only because the core was presumed to be in the ocean.

Initially, most nations opposed the operation. But that only lasted until the second year. With tens of millions dying each year from the curse, last year it exceeded 100 million deaths from the tower's curse.

And now the curse was growing stronger? How many would die this time?

Their last sliver of hope was the nuclear strike… but not a single person in the room believed it would succeed.

"So, is prayer our only option? Shouldn't we at least try to find the most promising climber now, even at this late hour, by pooling climber data from every country?"

Even the president who spoke those words didn't take them seriously. With barely an hour left, did the governments of the world fail to clear Doom Tower Floor 1 because they were unaware of such an obvious step?

It was just a way to vent this hopeless frustration, and everyone knew it.

"…Since Seon-min Yoo, Korea's most promising Doom Tower climber, died, no one has chosen Survival difficulty. Not even for Doom Tower itself."

Seon-min Yoo. A painful memory for the Republic of Korea.

He was a hero crafted to boost national pride and reassure the public amid threats to security and the economy. He received full support, privileges, and massive perks—because he was worth it.

A special forces operative deployed on numerous overseas missions. His physical abilities—stamina, strength—were unmatched, and his tactical skills, situational awareness, reflexes, endurance, courage… everything was perfect.

The Minister of National Defense had introduced him to the president personally, saying clearly:

"There's no climber in the country who matches him."

Yet… he died failing to clear just Floor 1.

No one blamed him. Humanity unites and grows stronger in crises. Especially against third-party extraterrestrials, as the phrase went.

When millions… tens of millions died from the spire's curse, enraged ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠citizens poured into the streets, inspiring countless climbers to choose Survival difficulty.

Among those chosen climbers, were there no extraordinary talents? Fighters confident in combat, muscular generals, weapons and survival experts, martial artists… people from all walks of life, ignoring good or evil, class, nationality, religion. Even the president, who had reviewed data shared by the U.S. government, was impressed.

And they all died.

"…Should we strengthen the climber mandatory reporting law?"

"It'll only breed backlash. No one survived Doom Tower, even with tens of thousands entering."

No one survived. The words might sound rude at first glance, but no one called him out.

His own child had been chosen as a climber and picked Doom Tower Survival out of pride for his father. The same went for many others.

There was no one to blame. Friends and families vented their rage at the climbers' deaths… but they couldn't push more into the fire or pressure them.

After all, reports of who became climbers and who died came straight to them first. Betraying their sacrifices was unthinkable.

"Mr. President, they say nuclear strikes will begin in 30 minutes."

"……Understood. I'll inform the public."

"…There'll be massive chaos. Public order is already deteriorating rapidly. It could turn into blame against the government."

"Isn't the situation dire? What more can I do from here?"

The president's own family had died from the curse. He wanted to unleash nukes or whatever else, just like everyone else.

And saying there was nothing they could do was just an excuse. Hell, maybe calling it incompetence wasn't wrong…?

As the president rose from his seat, the scraping of chairs drew all eyes.

This meeting was pointless. Countermeasures for the tower? All remedies had failed.

Better to focus on the financial markets and public order after trading halts lifted, or calculating how many nationals would die in the billions this time and how to protect and support them.

At that moment, a message appeared before everyone's eyes.

"Wha—what… i-it's, it's cleared!! Wooaaah!! Uhhehehe!!"

He froze, staring at the message in disbelief, then forgot all decorum and let out a whoop of joy.

No shame. The others were already hugging and cheering in ecstasy.

He understood. First curse: 1 million dead. Second: 10 ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠million. Third: over 100 million.

What about the fourth? Obvious without asking.

Humanity had effectively 2 years left. After 4 years of failure, no one thought they'd survive another 2—but some hero somewhere had finally cleared the infamous Doom Tower Floor 1.

Sure, Floor 2 remained, and it was only a 1-year extension, but for now, they savored the moment.

"Mr. President, the U.S. hotline says they're halting the operation."

"Is that so? Heh. They're no different from us."

"No different? They're ready to award the Medal of Honor regardless of nationality."

The president looked at the Minister of National Defense, who smiled as he reported.

A face aged years in just a few. He hadn't been like this at first… Come to think of it, the last time he'd seen that smile was 3 years ago.

"Looks like we'll have a lot to do ahead. With the floor cleared, new climbers will emerge, right?"

300,000 added each year the timer reset. About 0.0000375% of the world population.

How many Koreans among them? Numbers didn't matter. Nationality didn't either.

The international community had pledged unconditional cooperation on spire issues, ignoring relations.

Presidential authority? National pride? He'd set it all aside. Whatever it took.

"Another 300,000 added?"

At this point, it seemed like a rule—300,000 more each cycle, curse or clear.

Year 4 now, 726,000 total… Nearly 500,000 of the 1.2 million dead.

While I was holed up as a shut-in because of the tower, brave folks fought hard to clear it. Kinda makes my stomach churn.

'Gotta step up from now on.'

Not some grand "with great power comes great responsibility" bullshit. I'm basically a freeloading cheater.

At least for Doom Tower, the one with zero clears, I'll take responsibility.

Of course, no revealing my identity outside. My existence is a tower glitch—why spread rumors?

Never liked the spotlight anyway.

He turned to the message.

The rewards for being the first to clear Doom Tower Survival Floor 1, floating before him.

He agonized over it… nah, not really. All he did was stroll around poking flowers and butterflies.

How would a guy like him know which was best? Real fighters would.

But he lucked out, picking the perfect one for a young guy like him.

"Tripping while walking would be a pain in the ass…"

Even in Super Special Very Easy Mode, it wasn't foolproof. Other climbers would smack him upside the head for saying that…

But in a cave like last time, stumbling and cracking his skull? Disaster.

He was more cautious now than someone heading to the bank with a top-prize lottery ticket.

"Status Window!"

Applied perfectly. 99% had empty imprint slots, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but his had that precious little Resistance Seed.

Too damn good… He was starting to like this tower for the first time. Not really, though.

The integrated system for climbers to trade, share info, and community freely. Outsiders envied it.

Some even sold aggregated climber activities, incidents, and posts to media and governments.

He checked the community tab first.

"…Fewer than expected."

The rest were dead or never entered. But over 7,000 on Hard? Impressive. How'd they do it?

Most picked Cycle or Origin Towers, probably. Hub community worked in reality too, so posts scrolled up by the dozens in a blink.

…All about Doom Tower Floor 1's first clear, naturally.

He fought a grin and skimmed a few.

A pointless chuckle escaped. Totally worth celebrating.

But no urge to jump out yelling, "I'm the clearer!" They'd never believe him, and he'd just be sheep among wolves.

Lame anyway.

He browsed the tower hub community and news until 4 a.m. before finally sleeping.