​Chapter 128

 

White male, 52 years old, married, father of two daughters. Pastor of a small neighborhood church. Enjoys pizza and mowing the front lawn before breakfast. Often forgets Bible verses, so he keeps a Bible app on his phone. Recently concerned about his growing belly.

 

These were the simple descriptors that defined William Smith, a warm and approachable pastor who could have existed anywhere. At least, that was true before the Tower appeared.

 

“Oh, oh…? I’m alive…?”

 

“Gasp… gasp… Oh, God…”

 

William Smith, who narrowly survived death during the tutorial, discovered his healing abilities while assisting an injured person.

 

Upon returning to Earth and researching his newfound powers, he realized they were significantly stronger than those of other healers. While others could only prevent wounds from worsening, he could completely heal injuries.

 

Had he been a reckless fool, he might have tried to exploit his abilities for profit or garnered attention by uploading videos of his healing feats to YouTube. But instead:

 

“Honey, I think I need to keep my ability a secret.”

 

“I think so too, William.”

 

The Smiths decided to hide his powers. Though his abilities were invaluable to those in need, they weren’t suitable for protecting himself. In a time when society’s foundation was shaking, flaunting a treasure without the means to protect it wasn’t wise.

 

“Honey, can’t we just forget about everything? Do we really need to climb the Tower…?”

 

“…Jenny was hurt. I can’t protect my family by standing idly by while other players’ attacks put them at risk.”

 

When their daughter was injured during an attack by another player, William Smith resolved to ascend the Tower. As the head of the household, he needed the strength to protect his family. Although he had a shotgun hidden in the attic, it wasn’t enough to quell his fears.

 

 

Slowly but steadily, William Smith climbed the Tower. By suppressing most of his power, he avoided drawing unnecessary attention and was content with this approach.

 

At least, until the events on the 4th Floor shook him to his core.

 

“That man… even when no one acknowledged him, he silently saved lives.”

 

How cowardly was it to hide his strength simply because it might be dangerous? With great power came great responsibility, yet he had been shirking his duties.

 

“Love your neighbor as yourself.”

 

Whether the transcendent being behind the Tower was the same as the God of the Bible, William Smith didn’t know. But he was ashamed to realize he hadn’t been following the teachings of the Lord.

 

“Didn’t the old lady next door say her knees were hurting?”

 

“Yes, she did.”

 

“…I’ll have to see her after tomorrow’s service.”

 

This revelation didn’t lead him to set lofty goals like, “I’ll save every human on Earth!” For now, he focused on helping the neighbors in need.

 

In the U.S., churches often served as community hubs, and naturally, William was a well-connected figure in his neighborhood. He already knew who was suffering from what ailments.

 

“Oh, Pastor Smith! Thank you so much…”

 

After healing the old lady’s knees, word spread somehow, and more people began to seek him out.

 

“Mr. Smith, I have a chronic back problem…”

 

“Pastor Smith, I smashed my thumb fixing the shed…”

 

At first, it was just the locals. With hospitals overwhelmed due to nationwide terrorist attacks, people turned to the church instead of medical facilities.

 

But in today’s social media age, secrets don’t last.

 

『My half-decayed pinky finger came back to life. Here’s a picture for proof.』

 

When a neighborhood teen posted this in an online community, and another user verified it, William Smith’s church became uncontrollably famous.

 

From nearby towns, neighboring states, across the country, and even from overseas, people began to arrive.

 

“Terrorists disrupted flights, so we drove all the way from Michigan to California. Please, just once, could you save my child?”

 

“I’ve been given a terminal diagnosis… Pastor, you’re my last hope…”

 

“I’ll pay you $10 million if you treat me first.”

 

“…I will treat people in the order they arrived. Please wait your turn.”

 

The growing crowd now formed a massive line, but there was only so much William Smith could do in a day.

 

Naturally, queues formed. People started cutting in line, the government intervened to issue numbered tickets, and the tickets were bought and sold. Tents were pitched for overnight camping, and some even moved to the neighborhood. The property value in William Smith’s area skyrocketed.

 

A phenomenon akin to a modern-day gold rush was unfolding in America, halfway across the globe…

 

***

 

“So they said.”

 

“...”

 

Choi Ji-won finished her story.

 

What could I say in response? Hearing that someone I knew was busy doing good deeds—it wasn’t the kind of thing to comment on. I should just acknowledge it and move on. Bragging with something like, “I’m Kim Jun-ho, the guy who saved the people on the 4th floor,” would just come across as tacky.

 

“Hmmm...”

 

Did I know any skilled healers? My existing friends were all ordinary people, so they wouldn’t know any. And since I actively avoided interacting with others, my network of players was practically nonexistent.

 

“Ji-won, by any chance...”

 

“...”

 

The lack of connections was the same for Choi Ji-won. Apart from a handful of friends from high school, she hardly knew anyone either.

 

In my contact list, the players I had were… Firefighter Park Cheol-jin, Kang Chan, and An Kyung-jun. That’s it. (Yoon Jung-hyun’s contact information was lost due to the regression.)

 

First, Park Cheol-jin. He had some familiarity with me and was very, very close with Choi Ji-won. He even had enough leadership skills to lead a survivors’ group formed by people who made it through the tutorial.

 

“Cheol-jin Ahjussi’s been super busy lately… I doubt he’s met anyone new…”

 

With the recent spate of terrorist incidents, he’d been dedicating himself to his actual job. In fact, he hadn’t even attempted the 4th floor since clearing the 3rd.

 

“What about Kang Chan?”

 

Kang Chan had been busy lately, creating a “guild.” (It was initially called a “gang,” but he said it sounded too much like a delinquent gang, so he changed it to “guild.”)

 

Though the name sounded grand, it was essentially just a community where people gathered to collaborate, share information, and exchange items. For someone like Kang Chan, whose powers were intense but came with penalties, such a group was essential. Oh, and I’d heard An Kyung-jun and An Kyung-nam had joined the guild as well.

 

“…Maybe they’ve got at least one healer?”

 

With a sliver of hope, I cautiously sent a message to Kang Chan.

 

[Hi, this is Kim Jun-ho, the guy who cleared the 3rd floor with you. I’m reaching out for a reason…]

 

Shortly after sending the lengthy message, the mark indicating it hadn’t been read disappeared. A bit later, I received a reply from Kang Chan.

 

[There’s no healer in our guild. Actually, there are hardly any skilled healers in Korea.]

 

The story Kang Chan told me was shocking.

 

[Have you heard of William Smith?]

 

Apparently, William Smith, who’d been making waves in North America, had significantly boosted the demand for healers. Billionaires decided it was better to hire a skilled healer at a high salary than to stockpile potions. As a result, most talented healers had been scouted with lucrative offers and were now working for exorbitant pay.

 

[Healing abilities are inherently non-combat skills, so few people climb the Tower with them. Why bother risking your life in the Tower when you can earn a comfortable living in reality? If you try to recruit someone, you’ll probably only find amateurs. Sorry, I couldn’t be of more help.]

 

“...”

 

He had a point. If I had an ability that could make life easy, I wouldn’t risk my life climbing the Tower either.

 

“What should we do…”

 

All this for a mere cold that potions couldn’t cure. There were no skilled healers available, and using an elixir felt like overkill. What other options were there?

 

After marathon discussions between me, Choi Ji-won, and Bung-Bung, we arrived at a simple conclusion.

 

“It’s best to just enter the 11th floor now.”

 

A lot of time had already passed, and my condition showed no signs of improving. Taking the risk and entering the 11th floor immediately seemed like the best course of action.

 

If I wanted to be really efficient, I could just regress here and starve the Snow Beast to death again. But over the past two weeks, my condition had improved somewhat, and I couldn’t bear the thought of revisiting that wretched mountain range. Even the mere thought of the rancid meat made me gag.

 

“What do you want for your meal?”

 

“…How about some gukbap?”

 

“...”

 

“What? Is it so strange for a woman to like gukbap?”

 

After wrapping up an awkward dinner with Choi Ji-won, whose shyness had faded after all the time we’d spent together, we completed the final checks. We were ready to enter the 11th floor simultaneously.

 

The “Guidebook” stated that the Archangels each oversee five floors. Raphael managed floors 1 through 5, and some unknown figure handled floors 6 through 10.

 

Just because floors 6 through 10 were solo, there was no guarantee the 11th floor would follow the same rule.

 

“You ready?”

 

“Yeah. Let’s time our entry just right.”

 

To put it simply:

 

Entering together with Choi Ji-won was an absolute advantage. The difference between having the help of Korea’s strongest player and not having it was monumental.

 

Sure, going solo might seem noble and cool… but with the Earth on the brink of destruction, who cared about nobility or style? Refusing an easy ride when it’s available wasn’t cool—it was just plain foolish.

 

“...”

 

“...”

 

Without exchanging words, Choi Ji-won and I locked eyes, nodded, and stepped into our respective portals simultaneously.

– – – End of Chapter – – -

 

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