Chapter 54: Player Ranking 0th Place

Trait skills couldn’t be used outside the tower.  

But two items that drastically lowered the risk of climbing had come out back-to-back.

“With this, even the mid-floors seem worth challenging.”

Truthfully, Choi Junseok had wondered if he should solidify his foundation and raise his level first before the mid-floors.  

But now he felt there was no need.

He wasn’t desperate enough to sell the return scroll for money.  

Roughly 6 billion + 30 million won was about to land cleanly in his account.

“Satisfied?”

Honestly, these were more immediately useful than hundreds of billions in cash.

“If I sold this rune stone, how much would it go for?”

He didn’t know if anyone had awakened a teleport-type ability, but its utility was limitless.  

Even Lee Jiyu, widely regarded as the fastest player in Korea, wouldn’t surpass the instantaneous burst of Blink.

A super-high-speed gap-closer, escape tool, and survival skill all in one. 

The higher the floor, the more it would shine.

He’d have to test it right away.

“You two aren’t tired, right?”

“Of course not.”

“Never!”

“Then 26th floor. Players call this the start of the mid-floors. Stay sharp.”

The two women nodded at Choi Junseok’s words.

He gripped the black card-shaped Magic Tower High-Pass and declared,

“Entering the 26th floor.”

Let’s go… to the mid-floors.

The result, as always, was a new fastest clear record.

On the way to the 26th floor clear condition, he used Blink without hesitation to bypass blocked paths that would normally force a detour—another record.

“Cooldown is about 5 minutes after use.”

As expected, spamming was impossible.  

The dizziness after use made immediate reuse difficult.

It was perfect as both an evasion/escape tool and for skipping intermediate stages of tower strategies.  

By using Lee Nayeon’s intuition to sense empty space or terrain beyond walls, he could instinctively blink to those points.

And so, with roughly 180 days left until the collapse of the Suseo Magic Tower,  

while codename Hamsu—Choi Junseok—casually cleared the 26th floor, the top-floor raid team had just barely cleared the 65th and escaped alive.

The world was making a huge fuss over the 65th floor breakthrough.

Even when Choi Junseok returned from the 26th, every TV channel had breaking-news tickers about the 65th floor challenge and clear.

When Hamsu had first awakened, the leading group at Suseo Tower was challenging the 58th floor.  

In just a little over two weeks, they had broken through seven more floors.

Curious about Korea’s current frontline, Choi Junseok switched to a news channel.

Then Yoo Junhyuk, who rarely spoke, reacted.

– That guy. Still alive, I see.

“You know him?”

– He was my disciple.

As expected, the armored man on screen also wielded a sword.

His armor was dazzling. Even three years ago, if he was a player, he’d have been a veteran.

The subtitle read: S-rank Player Kim Cheolgon, Rank 7.

The Player Management Office did assign rankings, but only to single-digit rankers.  

It was a bit childish, but it was also the perfect stimulus to stoke competition and climbing desire.

Players outwardly scoffed at the rankings while quietly accepting them as a kind of order—because they were calculated from fairly objective metrics.

Awakening ability, achievements, climbing records, reputation within the player community, and additional abilities were all comprehensively evaluated.

It wasn’t purely individual strength, but rather: “When attacking the tower, who is the nth most important member?”

Even the top players pretended not to care while secretly obsessing over it.

Internal support scale and treatment also varied by rank.

This 65th floor clear also partly served as a ranking competition to accumulate achievements before the quarterly player evaluation.

“Thanks to the new support-type players who quickly joined our raid, we were able to clear the 65th floor.”

The 65th floor allowed a maximum of 30 players.

They had naturally entered with a full 30, and new players with skills tailored to the 65th had performed outstandingly.

They had reached the 65th safely also because, in just two weeks, Indo-Nepalese players had built “elevators” through the lower and mid-floors with the Office’s cooperation.

With enough time, players supported by the Office could reach the upper floors without spilling a drop of blood.

“The new S-rank and A-rank awakeners played a huge role, I hear.”

“Sometimes support or buff-type awakening abilities drastically raise the entire raid’s firepower or survivability regardless of the player’s level.”

“That sounds like the 65th floor was extremely difficult.”

“This 65th floor had difficulty incomparable to the Incheon Magic Tower. We have no choice but to conclude that, like the global trend, tower difficulty is rising. Safety of players must be the top priority for the next floor, and for preparing for the next tower, the survival of veteran players is our biggest focus.”

65th floor.

It sounds high, but compared to the full 100, it’s just a little over halfway. More than a third still remains.

And the higher you go, the more the difficulty jumps unpredictably.

Didn’t the Incheon Tower only get cleared thanks to Yoo Junhyuk’s sacrifice?

A strange unease spread among people.

The fear that the Suseo Magic Tower might not be clearable.

“They say Suseo is harder than Incheon?”

“Well, yeah… but Kim Cheolgon sunbae was still a rookie during Incheon, right? Most of the Incheon veterans died. Even Yoo Junhyuk, who basically carried everyone, disappeared. It’s only natural it’s hard when the carry has to do it himself now.”

That was the biggest problem.

Unlike before, there was no Yoo Junhyuk to lead growth and elevate A-ranks and S-ranks to the absolute top.

The Sword God the world had envied had vanished along with Incheon.

– Tsk. That guy… I can’t see a trace of what I taught him in his spirit.

Yoo Junhyuk clicked his tongue in regret.

Even the Office couldn’t purely celebrate the 65th floor clear.

The raid had started with 30, and new awakeners had been continuously funneled in via the government-built elevators.

That simply meant gaps in the original roster were instantly filled.

Eight casualties just on the 65th floor.

Eight veteran top-tier players. A bone-chilling loss.

Players themselves were falling into self-deprecating defeatism.

They had only faced a mid-boss in the 60s and suffered heavy losses. It would take at least several days before the 66th floor raid.

New raid teams and awakeners suited for the 66th would be drafted.

Being assigned to the top-floor raid was both the greatest honor and misfortune for a player. Climbing the tower was practically a duty.

Especially for those receiving all kinds of support from the Office, they were thrown into missions like soldiers in wartime. Refusal meant not only loss of income but possible imprisonment.

Vehicles carrying players who had been in training camp for the 65th floor raid arrived one after another at the settlement.

Most looked like rags.

Injuries were inseparable from a player’s life, but those who could be drafted again in just days trembled in fear.

In the state-of-the-art gym of the Player Management Office, filled with the latest equipment, the muscular players conversing were steeped in anxiety.

More than anticipation for the upcoming ranking update, they feared being drafted to fill the vacancies left by the 65th floor sacrifices.

“If you get assigned to the top-floor raid, how long is the expected lifespan?”

“Two months for reserves?”

“Main raid? Two weeks.”

“But is it even worth risking your life on the top floors? There’s no one who can clear the 100th anyway.”

“That’s true. The 100th floor isn’t some dog’s name. Who could do it?”

The moment Choi Junseok and Lee Nayeon walked into that gym, the room strangely went quiet.

It wasn’t just a feeling.

Everyone’s movements and words stopped as they stared at the entrance.

Their wavering eyes froze.

“Gasp…!”

Lee Nayeon and Choi Junseok—SS-rank player and an unidentified S-rank player.

People who had never appeared in player ranker society before.

Their existence felt like proof that the Office still had hidden strength, that Korea had secret ultimate weapons.

Government-controlled players.

Yes. For some reason, players instinctively sensed it.

The country had been carefully nurturing powerhouses on par with SS-ranks.

Maybe clearing the 100th floor isn’t impossible after all?

Choi Junseok and Lee Nayeon began light post-dinner exercise without a care.

Unintentionally, they were spreading hope to the demoralized, defeatist players.

And right at that moment,

A player who had been catching his breath while looking at his phone spoke, freezing the gym once more.

“It’s out.”

No subject or object, but everyone understood.

The Player Management Office had just released the new player rankings.

Only the top 500 were listed.

That alone included nearly every active S-rank and A-rank professional player in Korea.

Especially now that the challenge floor had reached the late 60s, many players were retiring due to casualties or debilitating injuries.

Players pretended not to care while furtively checking their phones.

Only Lee Nayeon and Choi Junseok continued exercising nonchalantly.

“…0th place?”

Bewildered players let out hollow laughs at the 0th place sitting above 1st.

There had been no 0th place in the previous quarterly ranking.

But now, right above 1st place,

0th Place – Hamsu  

Detailed information unknown – F-rank rookie