WeTried Translations

Translator: ZEROSUGAR

Editor: Abstract

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◈ Regression is Too Much

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Chapter 278

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The regressor advances (4)

It came out later that the people summoned to the First Tutorial had traits far better than what ordinary players got. Their floor was much higher, and their ceiling was much higher too. Their average, in every real sense, was simply superior.

Because of that, this Tutorial had a completely different atmosphere from every other one.

"Wait, he died? That guy?"

"Yeah. Went running off all excited to test out his ability, and next thing anyone saw, all that was left was an arm."

"Ugh..."

To start, the death toll here was ridiculously low. Unless someone got drunk on their own power and overreached, or lost control of their trait and killed themselves, almost nobody died. To put it bluntly, there was nobody here who couldn't protect themselves.

Maybe that was exactly why.

"Hey. What are you doing over there?"

"Don't come closer."

"...What's your problem? So touchy."

"If I say don't come, then don't come."

"Found yourself a Golden Marble or something? Tch, fine. I'm going, I'm going."

"..."

"..."

An exclusionary mood ruled the First Tutorial. There were no allies here. Only enemies, and potential enemies. Americans already kept their guard up around anyone carrying a gun. Now that everyone had a trait embedded in their body, it was like everyone was walking around with a loaded gun in their pocket.

None of them needed anyone else's help to survive. There was no need to combine their strength. And on top of that, the rules themselves encouraged competition, so a handful of players drunk on their new power caused real incidents. After a former model was raped and murdered by a police officer, nobody trusted anyone else anymore. No, they stopped trusting common sense itself. Considering only fifty out of two hundred and one people could survive here, maybe that reaction made perfect sense.

"Goblin Shaman? Minotaur?"

"...This is a headache."

In the middle of all that, Michael Zetter found the boss. The Goblin Shaman was sealing away the Minotaur, and killing the Shaman to open the portal would release it. It was a path where everyone could survive, but an extremely dangerous one.

Could I just kill the Shaman myself right now?

Does everyone really have to escape? Do I have to make that happen?

If I could save everyone, I'd want to. But that monster... it looks too strong.

Everyone was running the numbers in their heads. The risk was too great to bear for the sake of the common good. Saving just themselves looked far easier by comparison. Judging by the distance, roughly ten people could probably make it through the portal before the monster charged.

But the moment that happened, everyone else would die. That was exactly why nobody could act rashly, why everyone hesitated. Humans were kinder animals than people gave them credit for. Whether that would still hold once the Golden Marbles ran out, though, was another question.

"Kreek... I have a plan... kreek..."

Around then, the Goblin Shaman tried to make a proposal. A very, very sweet proposal, poisoned at the core. On the surface, it looked like something that could save everyone.

"No, I have a plan. Shut up."

"...?"

That was when Michael Zetter stepped forward.

"I'll draw the monster's attention. While I do, all of you get through the portal."

"...What?"

"Are you saying you're going to sacrifice yourself right now?"

"No? I'm confident I'll walk out of this alive."

"Look at the size of that thing. Hey, Zetter. I get that you're impressive. The rumors about you aren't exactly quiet either. But that's too much even for you."

"I can do it. If it's me."

The plan itself was identical to Choi Ji-won's, but this was Zetter's own self-conviction, and at the same time, a result of pursuing pure efficiency.

Joining forces meant letting someone else into the plan. That meant more variables. It also meant a real chance of failure.

But if Zetter did it alone? Michael Zetter had no doubt he'd fail — no, he'd already calculated a way to beat the Minotaur outright. Competitive drive and a sense of responsibility churned together inside him.

"I'm a soldier. You people are American citizens. This is how it should be. Don't you agree?"

"...You."

"If you're really that grateful, go back to reality and send me a box of donuts. Want my address?"

"...Hah. There's no guarantee clearing the Tutorial even sends us back to reality."

"...That's true, I suppose."

Whatever Zetter's calculations were, when someone offered to sacrifice themselves in your place, nobody stupid enough to refuse existed.

"The Minotaur's mine."

Except, there was exactly one person.

"I can kill it. Zetter, don't get cocky."

The beautiful woman who stepped forward, spear whirring through the air, was the one who would later be known as the Empress. She stood a little short, closer to a girl than a woman in build, but she carried a distinct dignity nobody could take lightly.

Thoom!

She flicked her hair, blond bleeding almost into white, and drove her spear into the ground.

"I've called dibs on that one. Already decided. So you go running through that portal too, and quick about it."

"...Hey, miss. That's inefficient. If I handle it alone..."

"No, I said it's mine. Why don't you understand plain words?"

"..."

"..."

In that moment, the man and the woman both felt it. The two of them were subtly alike, yet fundamentally different breeds. The kind of people who could never get close, never compromise.

"Hey. Timid. The people from the island, they're all here now, right?"

"Uh, y-yeah."

The Empress asked the girl waiting about three steps behind her. Hearing the girl's answer, she pulled her lips into a fierce grin.

"Good. Then let's do this efficiently."

Fwoomp!

She drove her spear straight through the Goblin Shaman's throat.

"Kh... ack..."

"Y-you crazy bitch!"

"What the hell are you doing!"

"Why aren't you running yet? Come on, we don't have all day~"

The portal opened. The seal broke.

The Empress let out a laugh close to a mad cackle. Michael Zetter's eyes went wide as he charged forward. Countless people dove through the portal to survive. The Minotaur roared.

"Are you out of your mind!!!"

"It's one on one on one! Oh, and just so you know, I've never lost in my life. Keep that in mind~"

"GUOOOOOOOO!!!!"

A woman holding a spear. A man with his fist clenched. A bull-headed monster drooling from the mouth. The three of them colliding was the last thing most players remembered.

Nobody knew how it ended, but at least two humans survived. Proof of that came when a man and a woman walked into the Tutorial's judgment hall together at the same time.

"..."

"..."

The mood between them was ice cold.

But they lived. Wasn't that all that mattered?

Michael Zetter was a former special forces operative, and still an active government official working in national security. Naturally, he did what he had to do.

"Zetter."

"Sir."

"Are you on drugs?"

Which meant he'd submitted his report up the chain.

"The first half was already ridiculous enough... but the second half came back completely blank."

"The second half... you're saying you can't see it?"

"That's right. Total blank space. I know you're an odd one, but what were you even thinking with this? Have you considered what I'll have to hear if I send this upstairs?"

"..."

"I'll let it slide this time, for your sake. That was a bit much."

"Yes. My apologies."

"Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Given the early release out of his superior's consideration, Zetter grabbed a meal nearby, took a walk through a park, then called up some friends and stayed out at a bar all night. An ordinary day, nothing different from usual. Right. Ordinary.

"..."

He'd told his friends about what happened in the "Tower." They hadn't even registered that he was talking. Maybe whatever happened inside the Tower simply couldn't be relayed to anyone else. A memory only he possessed, that he couldn't share with anyone else... could something like that even be called real?

Even the blue portal he could now open at will, was that just a hallucination too? The way time felt slower, the way he could remodel his own body, maybe all of it was just his brain playing tricks on him. Even the fact that his body felt fine despite how much he'd drunk...

Thud.

"Hm."

Something caught at Zetter's foot as he reached for his front door. A large donut box. A small Post-it note stuck to the top.

Thanks, Zetter. I kept my promise.

"...Hah."

Zetter's sharp mind grasped the situation immediately. It seemed people climbing the Tower could share information with each other somehow. He wasn't alone. What he'd experienced wasn't a hallucination. It was real. He had to move forward.

"I prefer glazed over chocolate, personally."

Whistling, Zetter walked back inside and got straight online. For gathering people, and for gathering influence, there was no better place. As a security expert, Zetter understood how to work human psychology. Above all, his Adaptation ability could support brain function in exactly this kind of situation, though the tradeoff meant he had to shovel down water, sugar, and sodium like his life depended on it.

"Interesting photo that spreads well on social media, with the story of the Tower stuffed inside it. Ordinary people can't read it anyway, so this should work efficiently."

Zetter didn't hide himself. If anything, he put himself on display. He'd played the central role in the Tutorial admirably and saved countless people. Since real achievements backed him up rather than empty bragging, his influence grew steadily, day by day.

Afterward, about two more Tutorials ran in America, and neither had the luck of the first. Survivor counts were low. The worse the experience got for everyone, the more Zetter got elevated to something close to a legend. People survived thanks to Zetter, or so the story went. It wasn't exactly false, and it played right into what Zetter wanted.

"Players are too strong. Without a central figure and proper control, they could turn into a criminal element. I need to be the one holding the center."

Zetter believed in himself. Reality rewarded that belief. The name "Michael Zetter" grew famous at breakneck speed, and among American players at least, there wasn't a single one who didn't know the name Michael Zetter.

Time passed. Around when Zetter had settled firmly into his position and grown used to his ability, right as he was debating whether to head up to Floor 2...

"Zetter."

"Sir."

"That report from before, remember it?"

"...Yes sir."

"The VIP read it."

"...Sir?"

"He wants to meet you once."

Standing right on the boundary between the ordinary and the extraordinary, Zetter got dragged back into the extraordinary once again.

This was the White House. The reception room.

"Good to meet you. I've always been grateful for your dedication."

The President of the United States, someone he'd only ever seen on TV, extended a hand to shake.

"It's an honor, Mr. President."

Zetter shook hands with textbook composure, while his eyes flicked briefly past the President's shoulder.

"Uh... hello?"

It was the boy from the Tutorial, the one who'd struggled to lug around that oversized book. The memory of him cracking goblin skulls open with that book as a weapon was still vivid.

"Introductions are done. Everything from here on is classified."

The President crossed his legs and spoke.

This was the beginning of the Player Association.

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