The Regressor Can Make Them All-Chapter 367

Chapter 367

In the past, when the world was falling into chaos due to the abrupt appearance of the Towers of Heroes and the Abyss of Demons, many influential figures of the political and business world fled to national or privately owned underground bunkers.

Despite being one of them, however, Wurgen didn’t follow suit.

There’s no point when monsters like those exist.

The monsters, as if torn from the reels of a movie, could endure tank shelling without losing their form. There were also those humans who ventured into the Tower of Heroes and returned alive, wielding mysterious powers capable of deflecting bullets with their bare hands.

The world was transforming in a way that denied every ounce of the knowledge humanity had painstakingly built over thousands of years. Against such a change, resistance or escape only delayed the inevitable—like a massive wave that would eventually sweep everything away.

Having realized that harsh truth, Wurgen sold off all his assets and secured food, weapons, and people before moving swiftly.

“We will head to the Tower. I don’t know what will happen, but hiding out in the Tower is our only chance of survival.”

“You don’t want to? Fine, do as you please. But the monsters outside will devour you completely. It is a good thing we won’t have to clean up your corpse later, as they won’t even leave a single limb behind.”

Leaving behind those who refused, Wurgen bribed the government officials foolishly trying to cordon off the nearby Tower of Heroes and forced his family and close associates into it. Then he himself, after learning the basics of self-defense, leapt inside as well.

In retrospect, it was a reckless decision that one could rationalize as a death wish. However, that choice turned out to be the right one in the end.

“How... how did they break into the bunker...? Aagh!”

“Don’t you dare touch me, you filthy monsters...!”

Monsters that appeared to defy physics massacred all those who fled to bunkers. Similarly, those who attempted to control the people that gained superhuman strength upon surviving the Tower were massacred by the very powers they sought to suppress.

In contrast, Wurgen, who had gone with the flow and entered the Tower, survived by discovering an unexpected talent—necromancy.

This isn’t the end. The real game begins now.

The world, shaken by the Towers of Heroes and the Abyss of Demons, had become a powder keg, ready to explode at any moment. In such a world, Wurgen knew that while he had survived for now, a new crisis could strike anytime.

That was why he began gathering necromancers across the world—who were otherwise needlessly persecuted—researched necromancy together, and expanded his influence.

“You want to name the guild ‘UD’ for ‘UnDead’? How tacky.... Fine, fine, do whatever you want.”

“Necromancer Lord? Ugh, even being called a hero feels awkward, and now this weird title... Hmm? You were the one who suggested it? Tsk...”

Over the next thirty years, countless events unfolded left and right. And each time, Wurgen desperately adapted for survival. Then, at the end of it all, he had gained power and influence incomparable to his former self. Yet, he still refused to rest on his laurels.

Even if I’m an S-rank hero or whatever, I’ll still be crushed like an insect if the Perfect Ones decide to step on me. To survive, I too must ascend the Tower.

Just like what he had done thirty years earlier, Wurgen boldly entered the Tower, stepping up to challenge the final trial while repeating the vow he had lived by: “I’ll do anything to survive.”

No matter how bizarre or grotesque, he wouldn’t deny or resist. He would embrace and use whatever came his way if that could shape him into a stronger hero.

And it was that very resolve that had allowed him to remain calm even upon encountering the lunatic claiming to be from the future, Se-Hoon.

“Mmm, they sure burn nicely.”

“...”

At least until now. What he was currently watching shook even his unwavering determination.

Before him, inside the giant barrier created by the crimson sword, the monster made of black mist—Death—writhed and screamed endlessly, burning in translucent flames.

Fwoosh!

When Wurgen had fought it alone, not a single one of his attacks had left a scratch. But in front of his very eyes, half of the monster’s form was just gone, its momentum significantly weakened.

Rather than feeling glad for the overwhelming offensive, though, Wurgen just stared blankly, caught between bewilderment and emptiness.

...Anyone watching would think the Sacred Craftsman was fighting.

The Sacred Craftsman had mostly fought in the backlines during the war, but Wurgen had seen him once on the battlefield, where he reduced an area spanning tens of kilometers to a sea of flames by himself. And though the flames in front of them were incomparably smaller than those, Wurgen couldn’t help but draw parallels.

Fwoost!

Death scattered shadows to escape the flames, creating undead monsters as it tried every possible tactic. Yet the scattered darkness instantly ignited along with the undead it conjured. Both were swallowed by the flames, vanishing just as fast as they appeared.

The flames created by the crimson blade possessed a quality reminiscent of the Sacred Craftsman’s flames: they burned everything until nothing remained once lit.

Did the Sacred Craftsman forge that sword? Did he learn how to conjure these flames from him? No, before that...!

As Wurgen speculated how Se-Hoon was wielding flames so similar to the Sacred Craftsman's, he suddenly noticed something.

“Don’t kill them!” he urgently shouted.

“What?”

“Are you seriously thinking about killing that thing outright? Judging by how one-sided things are right now, why not try enslaving them?!”

Wurgen’s eyes sparkled with desire as he gazed at Death, now reduced to a third of its original size.

Meanwhile, Se-Hoon’s eyes were full of disbelief.

Come to think of it, he’s always been greedy when it comes to his undead legion.

Seeing the glint in Wurgen’s eyes, Se-Hoon realized Wurgen’s obsession with powerful undead was made evident by his Einherjars that were composed of monsters, demons, and heroes alike.

But still... isn’t this far too reckless?

Wurgen, too, had sounded eager to eliminate the monster in front of them at first. The moment the battle turned favorable, though, Wurgen shifted to thoughts of enslavement.

It was an unsettling idea, yet Se-Hoon couldn’t dismiss it outright.

If the floor’s clear condition involves enslaving that monster, this might actually be the correct way.

Given the Tower of Heroes’s nature, if that were indeed the case, there would be no way to bypass it... or perhaps—

...!

An idea struck Se-Hoon like lightning. Yet he hesitated, lowering the hand he had raised to unwind Spirit Weaver, which bound Wurgen.

“Why aren’t you unwinding it already?”

“Wait a moment.”

“...What?”

Ignoring Wurgen, who was frowning in disbelief, Se-Hoon turned forward and calmly replied, “It’s all going too smoothly.”

Had it been a lower floor, like the 443rd, Se-Hoon would likely have dismissed the situation as a fortunate matchup. But they were on the 444th floor, the final trial before full ascension, a place so dangerous that even Wurgen had barely survived despite being renowned for his necromancy.

There’s no way Wurgen let his guard down against an enemy like this.

In the first place, the only reason he was suggesting enslaving it was because he deemed the situation favorable. If the circumstances had been worse, he would have never made such a risky decision.

Considering all of that, how had the Wurgen of the past been gravely injured? To Se-Hoon, there was only one plausible explanation.

Crack-

Once the Flames of Atonement completely consumed Death, the creature crumbled and disappeared without a trace, as if everything had ended.

Yet both Se-Hoon and Wurgen felt something was amiss.

Don’t tell me...

Bubble, bubble!

The vast darkness stretching beyond the horizon churned. Mere moments later, black mist rose and reassembled into the same mist creature they had just defeated.

Then, as if having learned from its earlier defeat, it stretched out its hand before the Sin-Eclipsing Blade could reach it. And from within the darkness, countless monsters emerged, rising endlessly. Recreated once more, the army of Death surged forth, mocking their earlier efforts.

Wurgen broke into a cold sweat.

“This is insane.”

He had known the final trial would be difficult, but it was just beyond unreasonable. As Wurgen struggled to process the situation, Se-Hoon calmly stepped forward.

“So, it really was this.”

Having seemingly figured something out, Se-Hoon deactivated his flames, retrieved his blade, and stored it back in his Dream Storage.

He sat down across from Wurgen.

“Okay, I’ll explain everything I’ve figured out so far.”

“...In this state?”

Still bound tightly, Wurgen glared at Se-Hoon, but Se-Hoon’s tone was firm.

“Yes, like this.”

To prepare for any unforeseen circumstances, he decided it was best to keep Wurgen restrained.

And upon meeting Se-Hoon’s unwavering gaze, Wurgen sighed and nodded.

“Fine. Do as you please.”

Satisfied with Wurgen’s cooperation, Se-Hoon began.

“The flames I used earlier are called the Flames of Atonement. They only ignite under specific conditions: either the target must feel guilt, or I must define their actions as sinful.”

Wurgen furrowed his brows in thought.

“Are you... saying that thing either feels guilty or has committed a sin by your standards?”

“Exactly. That’s why I believe it isn’t some grand concept like ‘Death.’”

Wurgen fell silent. When he first entered the 444th floor, he had sensed that necromancy wouldn’t work on the creature, leading him to conclude it was a higher being, one akin to a law of nature.

But if it were truly ‘Death,’ it wouldn’t feel guilt or be committing sin.

That only left them with one explanation for what the creature was.

“...It’s my own synesthetic mindscape.”

In hindsight, the Tower of Heroes did indeed reflect the ascender’s thoughts and concepts to craft trials accordingly.

“Precisely. That creature is the Tower’s manifestation of your concept of ‘Death,’ empowered by its rules. In a way, it’s akin to a law of the world."

And though Se-Hoon didn’t say it outright, he had already guessed the truth.

That thing... must be the root of the Netherworld.

The near-infinite power, the encroaching darkness, and the endless creation of undead—they all pointed to that single likely conclusion.

Which means that the past Wurgen somehow enslaved that thing... though I can’t even begin to imagine how.

Piecing together what he learned so far, Se-Hoon deduced Wurgen had initially misjudged the enemy and let his guard down, leading to his near-fatal injury when Death resurrected and attacked him. After that was what he was told: Wurgen must have lost consciousness, only to awaken as a skeleton after somehow clearing the trial.

The latter part, however, was still a mystery to Se-Hoon.

Maybe his necromancy miraculously worked just before he passed out, or perhaps dying was the actual condition for clearing the trial...

While Se-Hoon mulled over possibilities, Wurgen, lost in his own contemplation, finally spoke. “I have something to ask you.”

“Oh, yes. Go ahead.”

“Am I still alive in the future?”

The pointed question caught Se-Hoon off guard, and his startled expression was all the answer Wurgen needed. A faint, self-deprecating smile crossed Wurgen’s lips.

“So I’m dead. Though, having cleared the Tower, maybe it’s not that simple. Either way, it’s an unseemly end.”

“...How did you figure it out?”

Se-Hoon had deliberately avoided mentioning Wurgen’s skeletal future, wary of how he might react. Yet Wurgen had somehow deduced it.

“One can’t survive thirty years on the battlefield without learning to judge themselves objectively first. The way I am now, there’s no way I could defeat that thing.”

If not for the strange power of the entity before him and his unexpected resurrection, Wurgen thought he would have already perished in some way. Given that, he could roughly piece together what must have happened after.

“I must have assimilated my soul with that thing to enslave it. Normally, I’d never resort to such a method, as that would risk corrupting my own soul... but if this were truly the end, there’d be no reason to hold back.”

“...I see.”

Se-Hoon wondered if Wurgen’s Eye of the Nether had originated from that very experience.

Glancing at the encroaching Death once more, Se-Hoon asked, “Are there any other methods you could have tried?”

“There is none.”

“...What?”

The firmness of the answer stunned Se-Hoon.

Seeing his disbelief, Wurgen repeated his words with a bitter expression, “I said there are no other ways to deal with it.”

If the entity before them truly embodied his concept of death, then there was no defeating it. He believed death was the inevitable force no living being could resist or escape—a relentless flow that would claim all.

“I knew it all along,” Wurgen said, gazing into the void. “That there was no choice but to accept it. Even so, I...”

Recalling the past, Wurgen slowly turned his head to look at Se-Hoon.

“Release me. I’ll do what I have to.”

Unlike before, Wurgen spoke with the calm resolve of someone who had come to terms with everything.

To it, however, Se-Hoon responded with a curt, “No.”

“But your only way out is to clear this floor.”

“That’s probably true. But not like this.”

From Se-Hoon’s perspective, it was safer to stay out of the conflict entirely, regardless of whether Wurgen was real. If the man before him were the real Wurgen, intervening would cause massive butterfly effects spanning decades. If he were a fake, the risk of the trial escalating meant it was better to finish it cleanly and leave.

Still, despite those logical reasons, Se-Hoon couldn’t accept Wurgen meeting such a pathetic end.

“You wanted to know your son’s final moments, didn’t you?”

Wurgen’s eyes widened in surprise. Then, as if realizing something, he glanced down at the dark binding chains restraining him.

“...I see now. So that’s why you kept me bound. You’ve been trying to read my mind this whole time.”

“I didn’t think you’d share everything willingly with some weirdo claiming to be from the future. Apologies for the intrusion.”

“You’re shameless for someone who just confessed to spying on my mind... but now that I think about it, you really are like the Seeker.”

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Wurgen stared at Se-Hoon.

“So what does this have to do with me and that fool, Robert? Are you trying to tell me I should reject his death or something equally nonsensical?”

“...”

“That’s ridiculous. If you’re going to dig into my thoughts, at least get the full picture.”

With memories of his eldest son, Robert Kruger, surfacing, Wurgen gazed into the distance.

“Well, President, it looks like entering the Tower was the right call. Who would have thought I’d go from a terminal cancer patient to someone brimming with life? Ha!”

Robert, once diagnosed with terminal cancer at a young age, had clung to life for over twenty years thanks to the Tower of Heroes.

“You struggled plenty, but I’ve had my share too. I’m not dying until I’ve earned the title of president myself.”

He had followed Wurgen around like a parrot, always talking about succession rights. Yet the moment Wurgen relented, ready to pass on the title, Robert entered the Tower and died.

However, no matter how Se-Hoon made it seem, it wasn’t an extraordinary tragedy to Wurgen. Robert’s death was just one among the billions who had perished during the war against the Demon Force.

“Death will come to everyone, eventually. It’s a force none can resist or escape.”

“...”

“Even for someone like me, on the verge of becoming a Perfect One, and for someone like you, from the future, it’s inevitable. Whether it feels unfair, terrifying, or meaningless, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

The binds created by Spirit Weaver began loosening, turning black as they unraveled. Freed, Wurgen stood up, his posture steady and resolute.

He hadn’t gained a new undead servant, nor had his power increased. Yet Wurgen had still taken a step forward toward full clearance, having understood the path he needed to walk.

“Do you have anything else to say?”

Though Wurgen would not change his mind, he had asked one last time out of gratitude—for helping him realize his path—and perhaps to offer advice to the strange disciple who claimed to come from the future.

“No, I’ve said my piece.”

Se-Hoon had no way to deny death. He wasn’t capable of making all of humanity immortal or of providing some baseless hope.

“But what happens to us after that?”

“...What?”

“The fact souls exist implies there’s something after death, doesn’t it? So where do we go after that? What happens to us?”

A majority assumed the Netherworld itself was some sort of afterlife, but in truth, it was just a construct of Wurgen’s synesthetic mindscape, projected by the Tower.

Then, where did the dead truly go, and what became of them? It was a question that made Wurgen’s eyes waver.

“That’s...”

“You don’t know, do you? Neither do I.”

If even Wurgen, the top authority in the field of necromancy, didn’t know, then how could Se-Hoon, a mere blacksmith, have the answer?

That was why Se-Hoon chose a simpler path.

“So let’s take our time figuring it out together.”

“What?”

Before Wurgen could scoff at the absurdity, Se-Hoon suddenly closed the distance between them.

Wait. That’s a fist—

BOOM!

A loud bang erupted that no human head should ever produce. Wurgen’s body flew backward, his surroundings shrouded in darkness, and the spells etched into both his hands began flaring ominously. Then, the darkness coiled to break his fall.

“Ugh...”

Gripping his head, Wurgen steadied his blurred vision and looked up to see Se-Hoon standing amidst the same dark aura that surrounded him.

“How... How are you doing that?”

Wurgen was completely shocked. Even though he hadn’t yet cleared the floor and ascended, he knew that the darkness around Se-Hoon wasn’t something just anyone could wield. Before it, Wurgen intuitively knew that it was a power likely tied to the one he would gain in the future.

“Didn’t I tell you from the start?”

Surrounded by the darkness of the Netherworld, Se-Hoon raised his hand.

“I’m something like your apprentice!”

With those words, dozens of shadow spears formed around Se-Hoon and shot forward with terrifying force.

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