Chapter 2 - The Regressor Is Too Weak (2)

“... Hmm. Does anyone want to speak their mind? Or offer some constructive feedback? Right now, I might be willing to give it favorable consideration.”

The fairy was chattering away right above my head. But I couldn't concentrate on a word it said.

‘... It said I regressed because I took damage.’

[You have taken damage.]

[Regressing to the moment you first entered Floor 0.]

Those were the messages I'd seen right before regressing. The key word here was “damage.”

Before regressing, the only damage I'd taken was a tiny scratch from a blade of grass, just enough to draw a few beads of blood. In game terms, it was a minor injury worth just 1 point of damage.

But the system had counted it as “damage,” and I'd regressed to the moment I first entered the tower.

Still, it could have been a coincidence. Some testing seemed necessary.

“...”

Keeping an eye on the fairy, I flicked a finger hard against my palm.

SMACK!

I'd struck my palm hard enough to make it sting a little, but there was no sign of regression.

“Hmm...”

Apparently, that much didn't count as “damage.”

THUD!

This time, I punched my forearm as hard as I could. A numb ache spread through my whole arm, and just as my skin began to redden slightly...

[You have taken damage.]

[Regressing to the moment you first entered Floor 0.]

* * *

“Fuck! Where the hell am I?!”

“...”

At the familiar sound of the bald man's voice, I slowly picked myself up off the dirt.

Blows didn't seem to trigger regression unless someone put considerable force behind them.

That was something of a relief. At least I wouldn't suddenly regress because someone bumped shoulders with me while I was walking down the street.

But the testing wasn't over yet. I pinched the back of my hand hard with my fingernails.

“... This doesn't make me regress either.”

I'd pinched hard enough to leave a bright red mark, but there was no sign of regression.

I sprang to my feet and plucked a blade of grass from the thick growth nearby.

“...”

Just thinking about cutting myself with it gave me goose bumps. That horrible feeling of getting a paper cut while reading a book.

My instincts recoiled at the idea, but I had no choice.

SHHHK.

I drew the blade of grass across the back of my hand.

“Ugh, fuck.”

The sensation was unpleasant enough to make my skin crawl. Little beads of blood welled up on the back of my hand.

[You have taken damage.]

[Regressing to the moment you first entered Floor 0.]

* * *

“Fuck! Where the hell am I?!”

That gave me a rough idea of what triggered regression. A blow had to be fairly strong, but any sort of cut would make me regress immediately. Even if it came from a blade of grass instead of a weapon.

“I'm fucked.”

I'd tried to think it through, but however I looked at it, I seemed to be fucked. The threshold for triggering regression was far too low.

This wasn't something I could brush off with, “Isn't getting to regress more often a good thing?”

Let's compare it to regressing upon death.

People who regressed when they died usually had no regrets about going back. Why? Because they were going to die anyway. Regressing could only benefit them.

But my situation was different. Even if everything was going exactly the way I wanted, the slightest mistake could force me to regress.

If regression upon death was a well-trained, pedigreed racehorse, I'd climbed onto some random wild horse out on the open plains.

“Hello, you inferior humans, so enthusiastically wasting your lives! Lovely to meet you!”

While I was lost in thought, the tutorial fairy made its appearance right on cue.

“... I'll just give you the essential explanation and get this over with, okay? I don't want to do this either, but it's procedure. Nothing I can do.”

I let the fairy's already-familiar explanation go in one ear and out the other.

“Status windooooow!!!!!!”

“Status window!”

“Status windoow!”

This moment, with people shouting for their status windows all around me, was when I'd regressed before.

I'd gotten excited after seeing the word Regression in my status window and rushed off, only to regress when some grass cut my ankle.

Even looking back on it now, that had been one stupid fucking regression.

After the brief frenzy of people shouting for their status windows, the clearing settled into another lull.

I chose to wait and watch. Information was always a valuable resource for a regressor. Rather than take an active role, I wanted to gather information first.

From what I observed, the people fell into three broad categories.

First, those who huddled together and talked to soothe their anxiety.

“My mom must be worried...”

“I was cooking when I got here... What if my house catches fire?”

Some talked about their everyday lives instead of the tower, perhaps to escape reality.

“By the way, what's your trait?”

“... I don't see anything called a trait.”

“... Really?”

There were also sly types subtly probing other people for information.

Meanwhile, the second group was milling around the pile of weapons in the center of the clearing.

“Hmm... I prefer swords.”

“Don't you know that's just fiction? In a real fight, you want a spear. A spear.”

They picked up whatever weapons appealed to them and fiddled with them.

“Whoa, why is this so heavy?”

“Swing this wrong and you'll throw your back out.”

Naturally, modern people hadn't had opportunities to swing weapons around, so their stances were utterly clumsy.

But these people were preparing to fight. They clearly understood that this place was a “tower.”

And the third and final group... were each doing their own thing.

THUD! THUD!

One man was furiously digging up the ground with a shovel he'd found among the weapons.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

One woman was mechanically repeating downward sword strikes.

“Hmm... Hmmm...”

And another man was rummaging through the weapon pile, apparently searching for something.

All of them were wasting energy on bizarre activities.

Unable to resist my intense curiosity, I approached the man digging.

He was an ordinary office-worker type in his forties, wearing—or rather, formerly wearing—a suit. His suit trousers must have gotten in the way, because he'd already torn them into makeshift shorts. His jacket was buried under a mound of dirt, with only a sleeve poking out.

THUD! THUD!

With his shirt sleeves rolled up, he was hard at work digging.

“Excuse me.”

I ventured to address him. He stopped digging, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and turned his eyes toward me.

“... What?”

His answer was brusque, but I didn't let it bother me.

“The ground. Why are you digging it up?”

“None of your business.”

He seemed extremely wary of me.

“... All right.”

I backed off without arguing, but I thought I knew what was on his mind.

Hidden rewards.

The third group must have read too many web novels or webtoons, because they were searching for hidden rewards right from the start.

Maybe there was treasure buried beneath the tutorial's starting point. Or swinging a sword a hundred thousand times in the tutorial would earn them a skill... Or a legendary weapon was hidden among the seemingly ordinary weapons.

Anyone could see it was probably a waste of time, but I had no desire to stop them. If they actually found something, I could just regress and take it for myself.

I settled down beside the group of people talking again.

The tutorial fairy had mentioned a “system” earlier. I intended to wait until something happened.

I had no watch, so I couldn't tell exactly how much time had passed, but after what felt like ten minutes...

<Notice. Announcing the rules of the tutorial stage.>

A translucent message window appeared before my eyes.

“Wh-what is this?”

“... A notice?”

Judging by everyone else's reactions, I wasn't the only one who could see it. I turned my attention back to the message before me.

<Tutorial Stage>

- Clear Condition 1: Swallow a ‘golden orb’ hidden somewhere in the forest to advance to the next stage. However, only 50 golden orbs exist.

- Clear Condition 2: Defeat the boss, the Goblin Shaman, to create a portal to the next stage.

“Hmm...”

Even at a glance, there were far more than fifty people in the clearing. This tower was forcing people to choose between two options.

Would everyone work together to defeat the Goblin Shaman, or would they use golden orbs to save their own skins and leave?

Normally, this was where someone would step forward and say, “Let's all work together to beat the boss!”

But everyone here must have been selfish, because no one suggested joining forces.

“... Shall we stick together?”

“You. You look pretty strong. Let's team up. What do you say?”

They were scared to fight the Goblin Shaman, but they needed to find golden orbs. In the end, they went looking for allies who could be brave on their behalf.

“Excuse me... If you don't have a team...”

I received a few recruitment offers myself, but...

“... Sorry.”

I had no choice but to turn them down. With all that undergrowth, I couldn't even leave the clearing in the first place.

And so, apart from the middle-aged people denying the system's existence, the cowards who'd never had the courage to fight, and a few eccentrics, everyone left the clearing to fend for themselves.

“...”

WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

Only then did I pick up a sword and quietly take a spot beside the woman who was still practicing downward strikes.

Earlier, I'd seen her swing her sword threateningly at a man who'd invited her to join his party. Starting an unnecessary conversation would only hurt my chances.

“...”

She gave me one glance, then ignored me and kept swinging her sword.

She was an East Asian beauty whose black hair, tied into a ponytail with a cord, suited her perfectly. Of course, her being pretty had absolutely nothing to do with me.

WHOOSH!

“Ugh...”

I'd worked up the resolve to swing my sword, but my form must have been wrong, because it felt like my shoulder was about to pop out.

This sword was much heavier than I'd expected. Controlling the direction of the cut was no easy task either.

But I had to get used to it.

If I didn't get stronger, I'd be stuck regressing through the tutorial forever. The towers I knew weren't places where the weak could survive.

My body would keep reverting. It was my mind that had to learn the sword.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

I would become a hero.

No matter what.

* * *

I wasn't sure how much time had passed. Judging by the sun, which was about to set, it hadn't been a short while.

“Whew.”

I'd swung the sword until my hands trembled. I only just managed to stop myself, afraid that any more would tear the skin on my palms and trigger regression.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

The ponytailed woman was still swinging her sword as though she never got tired.

“Wow.”

Looking at her like this, she really was beautiful. Such a well-defined nose... And that mole beneath her eye was sexy...

She shot me a glare.

She must have felt my eyes roaming over her face, because she turned her head and glared at me.

“...”

A regressor should always have a goal.

And I'd just chosen my momentous first goal.

Befriend that woman and learn swordsmanship from her.

I'd get stronger, of course, and the eye candy would be a bonus. This was what they called killing two birds with one stone.

THUD! THUD!

WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

And so I was quietly setting goals for myself, using the sounds of digging and swinging swords as ASMR, when...

“Aaaaaaaargh!”

A piercing human scream came from somewhere far away.

Whatever else I might forget, I could never forget that voice. It belonged to the bald man who shouted angrily every time I regressed.

“... Fuck.”

Someone had died.

A Word from the Author (Afterword)

Thank you for reading...!

I mean it...

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