Chapter 10

“Why do players climb the Tower?”

Players can live without climbing the Tower.

At first, basic climbing is mandated, like a tutorial, but afterwards, there’s complete freedom.

The tutorial is essentially adaptation training. It can be said to be a necessary process to help adapt to the Tower.

Once you get past the initial stages, you can live without climbing. Instead, you must perform basic duties like guarding the outer regions.

Then, why on earth do players climb the Tower?

I couldn’t find the answer. No matter how much I pondered, I couldn’t figure it out.

“Is it to make money?”

It’s a simple reason, if simple. And above all, it’s a convincing reason.

Since the Tower is ultimately a place where people live, economic activities can’t be avoided.

To maintain a basic lifestyle, climbing to earn money is the easiest way.

Because you can’t catch up with NPCs if you engage in merchant activities without climbing.

“That’s one reason. But if that’s the case, you don’t necessarily have to climb floors.”

I nodded at the old man’s denial. Yes, that reason alone doesn’t explain it. It doesn’t make sense.

One could just repeatedly challenge the floor with the best hunting efficiency.

It’s actually a method many use.

Newcomers to the Tower might make mistakes because they can’t objectively see themselves, but after a certain period, it’s possible to grasp one’s level.

“What’s the reason rankers climb? Is it for honor? Because they’re ranked in the ranking system.”

People respond sensitively to visible numbers.

The desire for recognition, wanting to be acknowledged by others, growth that’s directly visible.

There are many reasons they climb the Tower. So many that it’s hard to guess.

But if you ask whether those things are valuable enough to tightrope with one’s life, one would tilt their head.

The risk to be shouldered seems too large compared to the reward.

“The premise was wrong from the beginning.”

The old man clicked his tongue and said.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is there a reason death must be a penalty?”

“Huh?”

Did I hear that correctly?

I looked at the old man with a bewildered expression.

The old man turns the page calmly.

“Before coming to the Tower, death was scary. There were many lingering attachments, and life was just an extremely short moment.”

“Then what about now?”

The old man looks at me and smiles.

With a face full of mischief, he smiled and said,

“Of course it’s still scary now. The end is always scary.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I let out a laugh of incredulity.

“Instead, I’ve just become desensitized. The concentration of fear has only thinned. It’s just not as scary as before.”

The old man adjusts his glasses and continues.

“That’s how people are. People are often called animals of adaptation, right? They adapt to emotions too. They adapt to emotions they’ve held onto for too long, too much.”

Are those two like that too?

Have the ‘Tower’ and the ‘Abyss’ also become desensitized after adapting?

That desensitization might have worn down to a point similar to dryness.

“I’ve lived more years in an old man’s body than in a young man’s body.”

The old man continued, stroking his cheek.

“A face full of wrinkles, hands full of wrinkles, creaking joints, and dimming eyes. I’ve lived a life closer to death than others.”

Before coming to the Tower, because he couldn’t resist the powerful flow of time.

After coming to the Tower, because he had to survive with unfavorable physical conditions.

The old man had lived a life that leaned more towards death than life.

“But it turned out that wasn’t just a bad thing. Unlike others, I could see more deeply. Even if my pace was slow, I could see more.”

The old man didn’t make much of a mark initially.

I remember clearly. That image is still vivid.

Many of my memories have faded, but that remains clear. Even if parts of that memory have also discolored, the important parts remain.

The old man was the first customer to visit our store.

I met the most valuable relationship at the most difficult moment.

“You were quite unremarkable back then.”

“It’s the same now. I’m still just an unremarkable old man.”

“Suddenly self-deprecating?”

This is too sudden. Should I comfort him? Should I deny it?

This is the first time I’ve been in such a situation, so I don’t know what to do.

While I’m flustered and mumbling, the old man bursts into laughter.

“Haha.”

The old man roars with laughter and moves on. He laughs so hard that tears almost come out.

“Wh-what? Why are you laughing?”

“Your reaction is funny.”

“What are you, a teenage boy?”

As I was speaking, I suddenly realized. An exclamation of realization burst out.

“Ah!”

So that’s what it was.

“You’re going through menopause!”

“I’m not.”

“What? You’re not?”

I thought so because he suddenly self-deprecated and got depressed, then suddenly became happy again.

Isn’t such emotional rollercoasting something that happens during puberty or menopause?

“Why do you look disappointed?”

“It’s disappointment from not guessing the correct answer.”

“You have a very peculiar personality.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you, old man.”

After laughing like that for a while, the old man opened his mouth.

“It’s not self-deprecation, it’s self-objectification.”

“Huh?”

“I still see my shortcomings first.”

“Are you sure you’re being objective? There’s no one as strong as you.”

“There are. Why wouldn’t there be?”

“Who?”

“There’s you.”

My eyes naturally widened. I didn’t expect myself to be mentioned.

“Apart from me, of course.”

“There’s the Tower and the Abyss.”

“Those are obvious too.”

“That shouldn’t be the case. It shouldn’t be obvious.”

“Why?”

“To help you guys, shouldn’t I at least reach a similar level? Since the reason we came to the Tower was to help you all.”

I was momentarily speechless. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t think of anything.

“If I could go just a little, just a little further, I thought I could reach it. But I couldn’t.”

The old man’s voice is filled with desperation.

The frustration that has accumulated over many years gives a sticky, slimy mud-like feel.

“I already know. I’ve known for a long time that this is my limit, that I can’t go any further.”

I silently listened to what the old man was saying.

“When growth stagnates, it’s unbearable. In a stopped time, the only things that can change are the numbers on the status window and the numbers expressed in rankings. If even those stop, it becomes hard to endure.”

“So that’s why you climb the Tower? To force growth?”

“That’s right. By that time, death is no longer a penalty. Rather, it’s a reward.”

“Are you hoping for suicide?”

“Not suicide. Just thinking it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if I die, and it’s good if I succeed in climbing.”

“Sounds foolish. Like moths.”

“That’s right. We’re fools.”

The old man muttered with a face worn out from fatigue.

After staring for a long time at the hourglass with sand falling, the old man opened his mouth.

“I think it would be good to turn back time.”

“Things might not change.”

“Still, we should try. We don’t know that, do we?”

“I don’t want to bet on an uncertain probability.”

“I’m saying you should turn it back for yourself, not for us.”

“Then I want to turn it back even less.”

The old man sighs and adds more words.

“We won’t remember anyway. I mean, we won’t remember what happened here.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t like it. I have to keep it to myself again.”

Only I will remember, only I will reminisce, only I will suffer again.

“Are you afraid they’ll meet the same end? Are you scared of being left alone?”

I answered with silence.

“Isn’t that just not opening the book? It’s no different from the collectors you hate so much.”

The old man puts down the book he was holding until just now and asks,

“Have you read this book?”

“…No.”

These are the only books I didn’t have the confidence to read. The skill books created by my disciples.

For fear they might be full of resentment towards me. I was too scared to even open them.

“Read it. Make sure to read it. Then your thoughts will change. And you might find an answer. Why they wanted to climb the Tower so badly.”

* * *

The old man looked at Lib, who was bowing her head.

Who’s calling who self-deprecating?

Every time he looks at Lib, he feels sorry for her.

It all shows on her face, but she tries to hide it forcibly. Instead of continuously expressing her emotions, she suppresses them.

How much, how long has she been holding them in?

He seemed to have heard that the reason she established this used bookstore was because of those disciples.

He doesn’t remember meeting those people.

Because at that time, he was truly just an insignificant old man. He couldn’t face those who were at the highest places.

Actually, he thinks it’s still the same. Just an insignificant old man with only strength.

What use is power if he can’t properly help this young girl?

…To be honest, she’s not young.

Though she’s said to be older than him, perhaps due to her appearance, she felt like a granddaughter. Her actions too.

In reality, he’s an old man who couldn’t even get married until this age, let alone have a granddaughter.

It’s said that if you stay single for too long, you’re called an archmage.

Is that why I could become so strong?

With such idle thoughts, he looked at the hourglass.

The grains of sand falling one by one.

It looked just like players who couldn’t climb the Tower and fell.

Moths repeating futile wing-flapping.

It’s the image of us. And it was his own image.

Sacrifice? Then what is this sacrifice for?

Sacrifice doesn’t always bring a valuable result.

Nevertheless, the word “sacrifice” seems to hold more nobility than anything else because it attempts despite knowing such uncertainty.

There was something he had been preparing for a long time.

Since facing the high limit, it was a plan he had been quietly preparing.

Since facing a limit he couldn’t overcome with his old body.

He quietly reduced his stats and lowered the power of his skills, and in return, he was able to pass on his memories.

It was literally a gamble. A gamble with high odds.

Despite being in a state of weakening rather than continuously strengthening, he had always maintained the number one ranking.

It was evidence of how stagnant this world was. No new talents emerge, and there’s no hope.

In the end, he had vaguely felt from then that the answer was only regression.

For a girl who gets very lonely, for a precariously wobbling girl, isn’t it okay to have at least one helper to support her?

Couldn’t he play the role of at least a pebble that twists the predetermined track?

Though he doesn’t know what consequences that twist might bring.

He had thought about sacrificing himself and putting himself on the scales.

But that wasn’t allowed.

The soul of a mere human who couldn’t even become a transcendent couldn’t tilt the scales.

In the end, this was the best the old him could do.

Then one question arises.

Lib said that turning back time itself was simple. How could it be simple?

Time regression operates on the premise of immense sacrifice.

How could that regression be simple?

He could only hope that she wouldn’t sacrifice herself, that she wouldn’t lose something important.

It seemed he had no choice but to believe Lib’s words for now.

Even in such moments, the old man couldn’t help but feel his own powerlessness.