WeTried Translations

Translator: ZEROSUGAR

Editor: Abstract

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◈ Regression is Too Much

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Chapter 279

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The regressor advances (5)

After that first meeting, Zetter never saw the boy with the book again. He understood why. If he'd been carrying a trait that broken, he'd have kept it hidden too, buried as deep as it would go.

"Anyway, that 'book' is what finally convinced the government. That the Tower really exists, and that all of you have to climb it."

"..."

"So we've decided to create something called the 'Player Association.' To protect players, and to keep them in check."

The President of the United States sat somewhere between middle age and old age, and led the conversation in a measured, dignified tone.

"If everything I've been briefed on is true, the world's order is going to change forever."

The President came from the Republican Party, known for the kind of blunt, crowd-pleasing remarks he liked to drop in public settings, the sort of thing that split opinion right down the middle.

"I believe America needs to stay at the center of this change. We can't let China, Russia, or the EU seize the initiative."

But the President Zetter actually spoke with in person was nothing like that brand of empty-headed politician. His thinking was flexible, his judgment ran deep, and if anything, he leaned closer to a scholar than a showman. A man who moved on cold reason rather than hot temper. The blunt-talk persona seemed to be little more than smoke for winning votes.

"..."

At the same time, Zetter found himself quietly startled. He was unconsciously analyzing everything, the flick of the other man's eyes, the smallest gesture. It made his head heat up, brought on a faint dizziness, though the heat faded again after a moment. All of it seemed to be his Adaptation trait kicking in. It wasn't uncomfortable. Just unfamiliar.

"That's not going to work."

"I don't see it that way."

"What about this, then?"

"That, I can agree to."

Zetter and the President talked. And talked. The sun set and rose again before the conversation finally ran its course. They found common ground, they clashed, and in the end, they reached an agreement.

"Will you take the position of Association president?"

"I will. For the country."

And around this time, the two of them made a promise. That promise would later take concrete shape, thanks to the Escape Contract the Empress managed to obtain.

That was the moment Michael Zetter was informally appointed to head the Player Association.

Time flew by. Even Zetter, who could stretch time by burning his brain to a crisp, felt it slip past that fast.

"Zetter, you good? Heard you nearly got charbroiled?"

"Don't even get me started. It's a story good enough for a movie. I'm about to post it online right now."

<My experience on the 2nd floor was extremely unpleasant. I was almost killed by the master of the city.>

If you're reading this, friend, that means you've already cleared Floor 2, right? Congratulations first. Was the flyer I put up still hanging there okay? It'd break my heart if it fell down.

Friends. I think the Floor 2 I went through was pretty different from the one you went through. I got the platinum reward, not just gold. Oh, it was a truly horrendous experience.

...

Ah, right. The gloves I got as a reward aren't really my style, so if anyone out there has a B-grade or higher item, or an elixir, hit me up. I'm open to trading.

Zetter had nearly died to the master of the city, and he still had the kind of mentality that let him turn it into a joke afterward.

"Get it together! Just keep your head straight and you can clear this. It's not even the hardest difficulty. You walked in here confident, didn't you?"

He had the kind of leadership that could pull a group together on Floor 3.

"I won't tell you we can save everyone. That would be a lie. But... let's give it everything we've got. Give it our best, and if it doesn't work, we'll think again from there. Nothing's more pathetic than deciding something's impossible before you've even tried."

He couldn't save everyone on Floor 4, but he had the kind of iron will that saved more than half.

-Did you hear about Zetter?

-On Floor 4, Zetter...

-They're saying some Player Association thing is getting set up. Zetter should be the one running it.

Zetter was a hero. A star. A celebrity.

Everyone knew Zetter. Martial artists climbing the Tower to grow stronger, garbage who committed crimes even after losing their bodies in the Tutorial, lunatics roaming the Tower purely for kicks, all of them, in one way or another, recognized the man named Michael Zetter.

-Player Association to be newly established, Michael Zetter to serve as president.

When the news spread later that he would be taking office as president of the Player Association, not a single person raised an objection, and there was a reason for that. People believed Zetter could be trusted. And Michael Zetter believed the same thing about himself.

"I need to climb the Tower."

So he made his decision fast. The seat of Association president needed authority behind it. And while ordinary people might not care, among players, the floor a person had currently cleared was likely to function as authority in itself.

But once the Association truly kicked into gear, he wouldn't have the time. He had to climb as fast as possible right now. Pad his floor count while he still could. That was the efficient move.

Zetter put his affairs in order. He made sure everything was arranged so that he could focus purely on climbing for a while without complications. Around this time, the Indian prophet Mahesh joined him.

All the preparations were complete. Zetter aimed to reach Floor 10, or higher if possible. It might have sounded far-fetched, but there was solid reasoning behind it. His Adaptation trait was simply too broken.

He could reshape his body into whatever form suited the combat situation best, with maximum efficiency, and the more familiar he grew with the trait, the wider and deeper that transformation reached. Zetter had confidence. Confidence that he wouldn't lose.

"You should... be careful."

"About what?"

"The Tower."

"Hm. I'll be fine. It's me we're talking about."

The newly joined prophet Mahesh gave the warning, but Zetter trusted himself. If there was a floor he couldn't clear, then most of humanity couldn't clear it either. And this was only Floor 5.

"I'll be back soon. How about Indian curry for dinner tonight? Might be fun comparing it to the real thing back home."

"...I'll be waiting."

He said it lightly, but Zetter was plenty on guard underneath. Still, he didn't shrink back. He didn't let his guard down completely, but he held onto his confidence.

-You have entered Floor 5.

"Let's see what we've got."

Zetter walked into Floor 5 with total confidence.

And Floor 5 was the floor that changed everything about Michael Zetter.

"Congratulations!"

"Congratulations to you!"

"To all you climbers who faced the trial of the Tower and never let go of your will, who kept pushing forward without end. I, Archangel Raphael, would like to say this. You've truly worked hard."

Even though Archangel Raphael's welcome said "congratulations." Even though the message window floating before his eyes read "you've worked hard." Zetter didn't let his guard down. It wasn't over until it was over. He couldn't afford to loosen up before he made it back to Floor 1.

What's it going to be this time.

An angel? A monster? Or something wearing the shape of an archangel? He didn't know. But whatever it was, he was confident he could win.

<Floor 5>
-Clear Condition: Defeat the enemy before you.

And then it appeared. Zetter's own doppelgänger.

"...Huh?"

"...Ah?"

Floor 5 was usually an easy floor. The doppelgänger carried the weak, unformed mindset of a player's Tutorial days, while the player standing on Floor 5 had, by that point, already found some kind of footing. The stat boost from leveling up was just a bonus on top of that.

But Zetter's case was different. Very different.

Michael Zetter had already been a fully formed soldier the moment he entered the Tutorial. A warrior who'd walked the line between life and death more times than he could count. And on top of that, his trait let him freely reshape and transform his own body, this thing called "Adaptation." There was practically no gap in physical ability between him and his double.

"...God."

Zetter moved with the worst-case scenario already in mind. And the reality turned out to be worse than the worst he'd imagined, worse than despair itself.

If he split time into fragments, his opponent split time into fragments too. If he reshaped an arm, his opponent reshaped an arm too. To win, Zetter had to adapt. Faster than his opponent, and more than his opponent.

At some point Zetter understood. There was no victory without sacrifice. And his own doppelgänger had already finished preparing to sacrifice everything.

Nobody knows exactly what happened to Zetter that day. All anyone can guess is that to beat an opponent who could also use "Adaptation," he pushed the ability to its absolute limit.

Maybe he restructured his internal organs wholesale to sustain the fight longer.

Maybe he didn't stop at splitting time once, but slowed his perceived time down so far that blood started streaming from his nose.

Maybe, for the sake of pure combat efficiency, he stripped out the parts of his brain responsible for emotion and memory and rewired all of it toward motor function and tactical thinking.

Adaptation pushed too far causes permanent transformation. Michael Zetter must have sensed that instinctively, and still made a choice with no way back, because he needed to win.

Either way, Michael Zetter survived. He escaped Floor 5 alive.

"Zetter-nim? Are you all right?"

He talked far less than before. The jokes he used to toss around casually vanished completely. His face lost its expression, small changes on the surface, though maybe, from now on, he'd been cursed to experience every waking moment of his life at ten times the normal slowness.

"I'm fine."

Zetter had simply adapted.

To the trial that god had handed down to humanity.

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