Chapter 32

“Mist Foooooorm!”

I can see Kim Haemi shouting the skill name frantically.

There’s something people often misunderstand—skills aren’t cast just by shouting their names.

What’s more important is the image.

You need to be able to create a clear image in your mind.

There are two types of imagination.

One consists of text-like thoughts, mostly dry and flowing thoughts.

The other is imagery. It draws an image of the subject in the mind through concrete imagination.

When casting a skill, you need a more concrete imagination with picture-like images rather than text.

Shouting the skill name is just a means to assist in creating such images.

It’s easier to concretize the imagination by saying it and hearing the sound again with your ears.

Most people can use skills just by shouting the name, so it’s not strange that they misunderstand.

Though it’s not an efficient method nor one that produces proper performance.

“So anyway, you can use skills just by shouting their names.”

“Only if you can properly handle magic power.”

Magic power is the force that implements imagination into reality.

But if you’re an ordinary person who has lived on Earth, you wouldn’t have encountered such a thing.

No, it’s not a matter of being ordinary or not; no one would have.

Although Tower magic has been released little by little, it doesn’t improve short-term magic adaptation.

That’s why the early Tower was literally hell.

The number of people who passed the tutorial itself was very small.

As time passed, Earth’s overall magic adaptation improved as more magic was released into Earth itself, but…

Those called rankers, with the highest potential, suffered too many deaths.

It’s a story from the previous iteration, unrelated to now.

“How’s the situation?”

“Only one person has passed the tutorial so far! The rest are struggling!”

“Sigh, how many have died?”

A sigh naturally escapes. Is it inevitable since the Earth we lived on was a place without magic?

There weren’t many god-like beings to begin with.

Even those were formed over a long time due to the scarcity of magic.

Time here is a representative example of that.

“Already 30% of the total personnel have died!”

“Prepare to erase memories and respawn them.”

For now, we need to make sure they don’t die during the tutorial period.

Later, when additional personnel arrive, these people will need to teach others.

At that time, we won’t conduct the tutorial in this way.

We were planning to allow players to naturally participate and act as teachers.

With guilds and such, we expected many rankers to participate to find raw gems.

As mere viewers, we cannot teach them in our Constellation status.

It would be possible if we were NPCs, but there’s no way to contact NPCs in the tutorial section.

The tutorial is basically an immigration screening.

How could they meet resident NPCs when they haven’t even entered the country?

“Where does the magic flowing in the Tower come from?”

Earth’s own magic isn’t that abundant.

That means it’s flowing from somewhere, but why, how, and for what purpose is the magic being sent?

“It’s because holes are formed as destruction approaches. Magic from other dimensions flows in through those holes.”

“Is there a possibility of invasion from outside?”

“Not so far.”

That means there might be in the future.

My head aches more.

“Is that beyond your influence?”

“Are you talking about time’s elasticity? Sorry, but that’s not something I do willingly. It’s like an unconscious action? Like breathing, it’s a natural bodily function. It’s not something I can cut off just because I want to.”

Time spoke without taking her eyes off the phone.

She’s completely absorbed in the fun, like an old lady who has just encountered modern gadgets.

“I feel like you just imagined something unpleasant.”

“No, I just thought you seem to be enjoying it more than expected.”

“After always watching from afar, getting to participate directly makes even this quite fun.”

She was, if anything, similar to someone filming a documentary.

She doesn’t intervene in any situation.

She strictly adhered to that rule, sometimes to the point of feeling cruel.

She always maintained neutrality, not favoring either side.

Clearly, that would break down eventually.

Always looking at things rationally helps one view the world objectively.

But as with all things, too much becomes poison.

Rationality is something seen when taking a step back. Because you need to move from the center of the event to the side and capture the overall outline.

How many steps had she retreated?

“It feels quite good to have someone react to my actions.”

Time smiles brightly.

It always looked as if there was some intent hidden in her smile, like it was covered by cloudy skies.

But right now, she smiles widely like a pure child.

After briefly taking in the sight of Time, I turned my gaze again.

I watched Haemi’s situation with my phone.

“It feels nostalgic, like the old days.”

I casually uttered an old sentiment.

Haemi was fighting a monster commonly called a jellyfish.

It’s an original monster created by destruction.

Due to the monster-related issue, those who were playing the existing game underwent slight memory manipulation.

Only the parts related to monster settings were slightly tweaked.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience.

I had a hard time for a while because they appeared not as the same people but as something like dolls.

I emptied my stomach several times from disgust.

Anyway, Haemi easily avoided the spit ejected by the jellyfish using the Mist Form skill.

She staggered for a while, perhaps getting motion sickness from using magic for the first time.

This too will take time to get used to.

The jellyfish didn’t force an attack despite Haemi showing vulnerability.

Or rather, it couldn’t.

It’s gathering acidic substance to spit out.

It can’t attack because it’s reloading its ammunition.

Haemi’s eyes move busily.

Her moving eyeballs showed that she was thinking hard.

She’s formulating a strategy while checking her own status and confirming the opponent’s condition.

“Two or three times?”

She accurately assesses her own condition, even though she can’t precisely measure her magic amount and has never used it before, making it difficult to gauge.

Haemi has the advantage of being good at psychological warfare.

With that ability, she rose to the number one ranking.

It matched well with her own ability, mist. Well, unique skills themselves are created based on a person’s tendencies.

An ordinary person would have rushed straight at the jellyfish.

If they had, they would have died being hit by the jellyfish’s spit, which reloaded while they were running.

But Haemi calmly organizes and analyzes the situation, forming a strategy.

People often lose their composure when in urgent situations.

The reason for not giving weapons is partly to follow the game’s tutorial, but there’s another reason.

It’s to encourage more active use of skills to teach how to use magic.

Haemi was barely avoiding the jellyfish’s attacks while timing her moves.

Then suddenly, she changed direction and started rushing toward the jellyfish.

The jellyfish still had ammunition left, and it spat directly at Haemi.

“Mist Form.”

Unlike before, she succeeded in casting the skill even though she murmured quietly.

She avoids the spit with Mist Form.

The jellyfish tries to spit urgently to attack, but nothing comes out.

It panics and tries to reload, but Haemi has already approached.

“It’s over.”

Without deactivating Mist Form, Haemi put her hand directly into the jellyfish’s body.

She succeeded in grabbing the core located in the center of its body.

She immediately deactivated Mist Form and pulled the jellyfish’s core out.

Since the jellyfish’s body itself wasn’t acidic, there was no significant injury.

Now that the tutorial was over, we could chat again.

With an excited heart, I typed a chat.

[Anonymous Constellation 1 congratulates you.]

“What? Why so fast?”

“Heh. I typed it in advance.”

[Anonymous Constellation 2 belatedly congratulates you.]

[Anonymous Constellation 1 mocks that it’s too late.]

[Anonymous Constellation 2 is indignant at the unfair tactic.]

[Anonymous Constellation 1 teases that you’re still stupid.]

“Um, everyone, please don’t fight.”

[Anonymous Constellations 1 and 2 both say they still congratulate you.]

“Oh? Thank you.”

I watched with fond eyes as Haemi bowed her head in gratitude.

Is this how a mother feels watching her child succeed?

I raised my hand to wipe my moistened eyes.

“You’re being sentimental.”

“Be quiet.”

After that, Haemi was surrounded by white light and transferred to another space.

Since further observation was impossible, I put down the phone.

“What’s the current situation?”

“The total number of tutorial survivors is 20. The rest were wiped out. They’re scheduled to respawn tomorrow.”

“Wow, that’s terrible.”

It’s a truly terrible survival rate.

My head aches thinking about how to raise their level.

“It’s hard to balance.”

The survival rate should be at least 50% to be stable.

When I asked Time, she said that other Towers also need about that survival rate to operate stably.

“It didn’t seem like such a strong enemy.”

“People are under a lot of psychological pressure. And when you start by facing such a huge monster at first, it’s not easy for anyone to shake off fear.”

It does eventually change into a pathetic jellyfish, but still.

It would still be difficult to shake off the pressure.

“Maybe we should give them weapons.”

“That seems right.”

“Is it confirmed?”

“No matter how I think about it, that seems right. Since magic adaptation can be developed even while entering the Tower, though it’s regrettable, for now, increasing the survival rate is correct.”

Time nodded and began manipulating something, tapping her fingers in the air.

“I’ll communicate the changes to the Tower.”