CHSE 4

Chapter 4

As soon as I got home, I grabbed a can of cherry pepper from the fridge and headed straight to my room.

<What’s that?>
“Cherry pepper.”

I gave a short reply, turned on my computer, and launched Save Earth.
Now for my ID and password…

“Huh?”

Did I set it to auto-login?
All I did was click, and it logged in right away. It even loaded the game automatically.

“…Hmmm.”

I got a strange feeling when the screen appeared.

Han Ji-min – Freelancer
[Strength – 26, Agility – 22, Stamina – 23, Toughness – 27, Luck – 10, Dexterity – 8, Mana – 15, ….]

The exact stats I had just checked using the Crystal Guild’s Stat Modification Orb were now displayed on my computer screen.

<Isn’t this what you saw earlier? Then didn’t you have no reason to even go to the guild to use their stat orb?>

“Right? Since when did Save Earth apply real-world stats in real time?”

Baffled, I looked up at Teach.

<…How should I know?>

Teach shrugged when our eyes met.

Tsk.
He clearly knew something, but it didn’t look like he was planning to tell me.

‘Just what is going on?’

As I stared blankly at the game screen, I noticed the in-game time ticking forward slowly.

“……”

That wasn’t all.
The contribution scores for each regional tower, usually displayed on the main screen, were also changing in real time.
Busan, Seoul, Daejeon, Daegu, Jeju Island, and even overseas towers.

Click, click.

“No way.”

On a hunch, I checked the in-game rankings of the towers’ contributions. Then I searched for the actual tower rankings on another monitor.

“They’re exactly the same.”

The feeling was uncanny.
But that wasn’t all.

I could also see details about hunter guilds stationed in each city, military deployments,

“…Wait? Wasn’t Jeju Tower cleared up to the 67th floor? 66th? Was that a lie?”

and how far each tower had been conquered.

“Hunter Lee Do-yoon was injured? No wonder his activity dropped recently.”

Even details like which hunters were injured, and what skills they had.
Highly classified information that was usually impossible to access—was all visible here.

Save Earth had already been popular for its high “realism,” but this wasn’t just realism anymore. This was reality itself, laid bare.

It felt like staring at the giant operations board from some superhero movie.

“Feels like I’ve suddenly become some all-powerful hunter running the whole world.”

As I leaned back and looked at the screen, a rebuttal immediately came.

At some point, the cherry pepper I’d been about to drink was now in Teach’s stuffed bear paw.

He seemed interested—did he want a taste?

“Want me to open it for you?”

But after one taste, Teach’s eyes went wide and he downed the whole can.

<Wh-what is this flavor?! Why’s it so good?>

“My classmates all hated it. Guess you’ve got good taste.”

Anyway, what now?
Should I tell my friends I’ve recovered and start climbing towers with them again?
That would be the normal course of action. After all, that’s a hunter’s duty.

‘But… jumping in right away feels risky…’

Maybe I should act alone for now, slowly reveal I’m fine, and then…
Or maybe even try another country’s tower?

As I was scrolling through the world map of towers, one in particular caught my eye—it was glowing red.
A tower on the verge of an Erosion Event, already surrounded by large-scale military and hunter deployments.

‘They’ll handle it fine, right?’

Probably.
As always, they’d overwhelm the monsters with firepower.

But then, one thought flashed through my mind.

“Teach?”

<Yeah?>

“In reality… do towers collapse the same way they do in the game?”

“I mean, yeah I have, but—wait. Hold up.”

The hell did I just hear?
Was that for real?

I’d been excited about gaining a game system, but… looks like I was completely screwed.

The collapse of a tower was the worst possible event in Save Earth.
And there were only two scenarios where it happened:

Hunters defeated the tower’s top-floor boss.
Or, if a tower was left unconquered too long, the top-floor demon burst out.

The second was the true Game Over trigger.

That meant humanity had to fight demons estimated at S-rank or higher—monsters so strong even the best hunters couldn’t handle them.

And with 500 towers worldwide, every collapse meant another one of these abominations.

But worse than the monsters… was humanity itself.
Even in the face of apocalypse, nations and guilds would fight over power and influence instead of uniting.

When the top demons appeared, chaos and selfishness always led humanity straight to extinction.

“There were so many times I almost quit because of that….”

If not for my stubborn goal to clear every achievement, I would have.

Because while Save Earth was technically a growth simulator, it had game overs.
And most of them came from those top-floor demons.

‘And now… those nightmares will appear in reality too?’

The thought alone gave me chills.

To even challenge those bosses in the game, you needed insane preparation—
Multiple hunters with average stats of 90, full sets of legendary gear,
a supply team to back the frontliners,
and constant high-level support.

But the real problem?
The stronger your hunters and faction became, the more you clashed with nations and guilds hungry for dominance.

‘And in the game, I solved all that with microtransactions…’

Yeah. Reality had no cash shop.

Sure, “protecting Earth” sounded noble.
But NPCs in the game only moved when it benefitted them—why would hunter nations suddenly be different?
They were already sharpening knives over control of the towers.

“Worse yet, unlike the game, there are no hunters with average stats in the 90s here.”

The strongest “Masters” in the world? Average stat: barely 70.

“…Yup.”

I checked on Save Earth. The numbers matched what was known about China’s master.

Problem: there were only around fifty masters and pre-masters total worldwide.

“At this rate… if even one tower falls, it’s straight to extinction.”

Top-floor demons?
In reality, hunters still struggled to clear even the 81st floor where A-rank bosses lurked.

“Ugh, feels like I just ate something rotten….”

Sure, the Infinity skill I got was amazing.
But the price? Too damn steep.

Now I knew a secret nobody else did.
Not one I could ignore.

“Phew…”

On a hunch, I checked the rankings in reverse order.

The lowest-ranked tower out of all 500?
The one in Heilongjiang, China.

Its marker glowed blood red.

<Hey… that looks really bad.>

Even Teach, usually indifferent, sat up straight when he saw it.

And I knew exactly what that red glow meant.

That tower was about to blow.

“They’re leaving it on purpose.”

<What?!>

Teach’s eyes went wide.

“Yep.”

Because they didn’t know what tower collapse really meant.

“They think it’s safer.”

By letting contribution scores drop, they could “control” which towers had erosion events.
Then, they’d station guilds and military nearby to wipe out whatever spilled out.

<Idiots.>

“…But up until now, it was smart.”

Ever since towers appeared, erosion events became a monthly occurrence—always at the bottom 10 towers.

So people manipulated rankings to “sacrifice” certain towers each month.
Prepare in advance, clean up the monsters, minimize damage.

“That tower in Heilongjiang? It’s one of those sacrificial lambs.”

<Wait, wait. What about the people living there?>

“They’ve all been relocated already.”

And in return, China reaped plenty of benefits from the system.

But who could have guessed that this “peacekeeping” method would bring the world closer to destruction?

“So… about one year left?”

I clicked the Heilongjiang tower. The number 350 appeared.

350 days until collapse.

And it wasn’t just China—Brazil, India, northern Sweden—several towers were glowing red.
All due within 2–3 years.

Plenty of other low-rank towers were showing danger signs too.

<What’s wrong with you people? Don’t you manage these towers at all?>

“Sometimes we don’t, on purpose.”

Because statistically, elite monsters spawned more often in neglected towers.

“Because elite monsters drop the most valuable loot and materials.”

<…Wow.>

His voice was full of both awe and scorn.

As I stared at the computer screen, I turned toward Teach.

“So, Teach…”

<Yeah?>

“You don’t have, like, another skill to give me? Besides Infinity?”

<…Out of nowhere? No. That’s all you get.>

“Damn it.”

Sure, my broken mana circuit was healed.
But my weakened body was still the same. It would take years of training to restore it.

“At this rate, Earth will be destroyed long before I even reach S-rank, let alone Master level.”

The excitement of having infinite mana quickly drained away.

Still, better to know now than die clueless when a top-floor demon popped out.
At least I could be grateful for that.

I hadn’t even managed to properly repay my parents yet…

‘Guess I never will.’

I exhaled my frustration and tried to clear my head.

In Save Earth, the first thing you had to do as a player was buy time.
Prevent erosion events from happening at just one tower.

Because each erosion greatly accelerated a tower’s mana charge.

The trick was to keep shifting the rankings so no single tower got hit twice in a row.
Meanwhile, you had to clear uncharted floors and special events to drain the towers’ mana.

“That way, you buy time to grow stronger, then conquer them one by one….”

But could I actually do that?

What if I marched into China right now, yelling that the Heilongjiang tower would bring the apocalypse unless it was cleared?

Who would believe me?

“…Yeah. Headache.”

If I were Master-level, maybe people would listen.
But I was just some no-name hunter with no guild backing.

“They wouldn’t listen either. This would break the world’s ‘rules.’”

If I tried to solo the Heilongjiang tower?
China’s hunters might just kill me for “disrupting world order.”
Even getting past the military cordon around the tower was impossible.

“Ugh. In the game, I could just click and enter….”

Click.

I absentmindedly clicked on Heilongjiang tower again.

“…Huh?”

Just like in the game, an Enter button appeared.
So I clicked once more.

[Heilongjiang Tower – Rank 500/500
Entry available in 2 hours.]

A message popped up in front of me.

Two hours.
The same travel time it took in the game when playing from Busan.

“…Holy crap, this works?”

I couldn’t help but gasp.

That meant no flights abroad.
No trekking into remote wilderness.
No showing hunter IDs to tower officials.

With just one click at home, I could enter any tower in the world.

This wasn’t just about bypassing distance.
It meant while everyone else scrambled to prepare and mobilize,
I could slip in unseen, clear towers in secret.

Anyway…

“Damn, where did I put my raid gear?”

<Hey, shouldn’t we pack a few cans of cherry pepper too?>

“Yeah, toss them in that subspace bag over there!”

And so, I hurriedly began preparing for my first tower run.