The Tales of an Infinite Regressor

[Translator – Jjsecus]

[Proofreader – Gun]

Chapter 63 – Sleepwalker I

1

In my regressor life, I consider the 1st to 100th turns as the “early stage.” Alternatively, it could be called the “childhood phase.”

This was the period when I romantically fantasized that simply beating down the anomalies would somehow bring peace to the world.

And during this early phase, there were three boss monsters that dominated the Korean Peninsula as their turf.

Stage 1 Boss: Crawling octopus head. No matter how much you stab it, unless you simultaneously hit both hearts, it boasts infinite regenerative power and never dies! Known as the “Immortal Octopus or Ten Clans.”

Stage 2 Boss: If you don’t know, you’ll fall for it! Thinking it was a virus promising free immortality in the apocalypse, everyone joyfully accepted it, only to find out it was just fertilizer to grow a gigantic world tree! A new Buddha and god, “The Immortal Udumbara!”

Stage 3 Boss: This one will get you even if you know about it! In the 7th year of the regression, come what may, an unavoidable Armageddon will rain down from the night sky, “The Unavoidable Meteor Shower!”

Isn’t the location of the Korean Peninsula just a marvel? Truly, it makes one’s chest swell with pride.

However, among them, the octopus can gradually be ignored. By the time you hit the 100th turn, the octopus is nothing more than a mere mob that can be one-shot killed.

– Bloop?

Yes. Even if you act cute, I won’t let you off. Octopus tentacle head, ripoff Cthulhu, cut down.

As for the “New Buddha Virus,” the “Red Cordyceps,” the “World Tree,” and all the other names and the double the notorious fame they held, Udumbara’s fate was no different.

– Hun҉g҉ry҉?

Though it might seem unfair from its perspective, Udumbara’s matchup against a regressor is the worst.

Once I figured out that Udumbara’s original spawning point was in room 202 on the second floor of a closed inn in Onyang, it was perfectly conquered.

And so, now to the final chapter of my childhood.

“Hey? Look at the sky.”

Let’s talk about the meteor shower.

“Oh my! A shooting star! Wow, there are so many!”

“The ground’s going to hell, but the sky is beautiful….”

To be precise, among the early-stage boss trio, only the octopus operated strictly on the Korean Peninsula.

Udumbara, as known, tainted all of East Asia with the cult called the New Buddha.

The meteor shower was the same. The “shooting stars” fell not just on the Korean Peninsula but worldwide.

“Hey? Why does it seem like those are getting closer…?”

“What are you doing! Run! Get out of here!”

“Run? Where to? The guild master, the whole sky is falling.”

“…….”

Have you ever played a battle royale genre game?

In such games, as time progresses, the playable map area gradually shrinks. For instance, a “zone” closes in, making the safe area smaller.

It was a technique to force players into a tighter ring as the game reached its final stages.

This world selectively copied the worst parts of such games. Because our lives were essentially a shitty game.

“Half of the Eurasian continent is gone!”

“What kind of bullshit is that?”

“Literally just wiped out. Remember last week’s meteor shower? It hit, and half the continent just got wiped out.”

“This is insane.”

One time it was South America, another time Australia, then Eurasia, and occasionally the Pacific Ocean.

Any continent hit by the meteor shower invariably turned into an uninhabitable wasteland.

It was truly an Armageddon.

As humanity gazed up at the meteors pouring down like rain in the night sky, they were momentarily swept up in an apocalyptic sense of romanticism. But soon, that romanticism turned into a shiver of terror.

“Again, again! They’re falling again!”

“Damn it, where this time? Where are they going to hit?”

Meteor shower. Western awakeners often called it “Armageddon,” while Japanese awakeners named it “Meteor.” According to the classification system of the Library Society, which saw it as their mission to name anomalies, it was a continent-level threat, designated as “The Shining Little Star.”

“……”

The identity of the meteor that Lee Hayul reached out for in the previous episode was none other than this.

Another way for our world to meet its end.

2

The first time I encountered a meteor shower was in the 23rd turn.

The number 23 holds significant meaning for me. Not in a good way—if I were to put it bluntly—and I believe we’re close enough now for me to be this candid—it was quite a shitshow.

Perhaps some of you, with a memory as sharp as mine, might recall the events that unfolded in the 23rd turn, or more precisely, the events that began from the 23rd turn.

“Hey? Old man? Old man, are you here?”

Ta-da-

Congratulations! You’ve found Old Scho’s corpse!

“Damn it.”

Yes.

It was in the 23rd turn that Old Scho decided to take his first vacation. It was also the moment my character, Doctor Jang, got his exclusive theme song titled “(Congratulations) Shitstorm (Celebration).”

At that time, I was… well…

Honestly, I was a mess.

A sort of dark chapter in my history, you might say. The person I thought would be my comrade for life had suddenly vanished.

“What the… you managed such high-level magic with just two incantations… I guess I’m a genius! And Doctor Jang! I think you might be a bit of a genius too!”

Although I never said it, this was part of why I helped Tang Seorin perfect the law of equivalent exchange magic. Back then, I leaned on Tang Seorin emotionally.

Because, well…

I have some doubts about whether I should reveal this much, but since we’re becoming quite close, I suppose it’s time I share more openly.

I’ll be honest. It was because I believed Tang Seorin was the only one who could accompany me through the same timeline in my regressor life.

“Even if we can’t live together in life, we can accompany each other in death.”

“Look forward to it. My companion in time.”

Of course, Tang Seorin didn’t remember the time we spent together. But at least, by burning her lifespan to unleash her magic, she continued to accumulate her lifespan through regression.

So, though it’s a rather embarrassing confession, I viewed Tang Seorin as a substitute for Old Scho.

No, calling her a substitute doesn’t do it justice. I was clearly dependent on her.

Even though my mental state was shattered, I didn’t forget my final duty as a regressor.

Somehow, without Old Scho, I managed to build an organization by myself, then installed Tang Seorin as the leader, and eradicated the Immortal Octopus.

And then, in the seventh year.

“Wow. Doctor Jang, look over there.”

“Hmm? A shooting star?”

“Yeah. There are so many.”

Tang Seorin, walking barefoot on the sandy beach with a shoe in one hand, pointed at the night sky.

That was the moment we first observed the meteor shower.

Naturally, back then, I couldn’t have imagined that the sparkling meteor shower in the night sky was actually an anomaly.

I finished my nighttime stroll and went to bed peacefully――.

Blink, and the next thing I knew, I was back at the starting point of my regression.

I found myself back at Busan Station.

“…Huh?”

I was so dumbfounded that I looked around blankly. What the hell was going on?

Anyone would be confused if they suddenly regressed while they were just about to fall asleep.

At first, I thought it was a dream. But no matter how much I pinched my cheek, I didn’t wake up. So, believe it or not, I had really regressed while sleeping.

“You son of a bitch!”

[Translator – Jjsecus]

[Proofreader – Gun]

SG Guy (I didn’t know his real name was Seo Gyu back then) was shouting his trademark expletives, like an alarm app hell-bent on ruining a worker’s morning.

And I felt a similar emotion to those office workers. It was about 30% bewilderment and 70% absolute frustration.

‘Seriously, wait a minute. Why is this happening?’

But regardless of my confusion, the physical time of the world flowed on relentlessly.

A scream tore through the waiting room of Busan Station. Seo Gyu’s neck was neatly severed by a fairy.

While people fled in panic, I alone stood there, dazed and unfocused.

Some materialists might go on a rampage when their sanity goes AWOL, but I was more of an idealist who replaced the void with rational thought.

‘Did someone poison me?’

This seemed like the most reasonable assumption.

‘Or assassination? As absurd as it sounds. Even if I was asleep, could someone assassinate Doctor Jang as easily as twisting a chicken’s neck?’

Ah.

I let out a groan.

‘How could this happen! I’ve been too complacent!’

Indeed.

Ultimately, humanity’s true enemy wasn’t monsters but fellow humans. Our ancestors probably decided to write history to immortalize the sentiment [Humankind, that thing, sucks.]

“From now on… I will live for myself.”

As I declared my resolution with a determined face, the fairy, who had been playing with Seo Gyu’s rolling head, tilted its head quizzically.

“Huh. What’s this human babbling about instead of running away?”

“Quiet, tutorial mob.”

I responded to the fairy’s rebuttal with a flick on its forehead (“Ouch!”) and then, as usual, looted the silver bell from the souvenir shop in the waiting room.

Immediately, I started devising a plan.

Never sleep alone. Not only establish a guild and recruit comrades but also build an impregnable fortress where we could live communally…

It was around this time that I started putting serious effort into my guild base.

Although it was later torn apart from within by the mysterious existence named Koyori, who used brainwashing beams on everyone, until then, my guild base was a fortress that had never been breached. It was a place of resistance like Gongsun Zan’s camp or Jiang Wei’s sword pavilion (though both eventually fell, let’s ignore that for now).

Of course, even though I declared that I would live for myself, I wasn’t one of those typical web novel protagonists of a Korean web novel, a monopolistic regressor who says he will survive on his own but really struggles to survive, it did not suit my personality in the first place.

People should live together, shouldn’t they?

Naturally, I actively shared my fortress-building know-how with others.

“Uh, Doctor Jang. I appreciate you looking out for my safety, but… isn’t this a bit overreacting?”

Perhaps “sharing” is not the most accurate term. “Advising” might be more appropriate.

“Gal! If you continue to be so complacent, you could be assassinated without anyone knowing, Guild Master Tang Seorin!”

“Uh… huh? Oh, um…”

“People are flattering you as the greatest awakened one in Korea, and now your vanity is sky-high! Even if you are strong, that’s only after you sing the incantation until the third verse! Before that, you’re just a mage in front of a sword master! Do you think those dastardly assassins will wait patiently while you leisurely hold a concert?”

“Well, I mean… this is my guild headquarters, right? I have a well-organized watch and patrol system. It’s impossible for anyone but someone as strong as you to get past the guards to my sleeping car, so why…”

“Gal! Assassins would have already bribed all your loyal guild members! Or what if they have abilities like hypnosis or brainwashing? What then!”

“Uh…”

Surprisingly, my prediction was 120% accurate. I foresaw the distant future where I would be utterly defeated by Koyori. This is what regression experience is all about.

A terribly stupid experience.

Tang Seorin seemed to reach a similar conclusion.

“If an awakened one has such a broken ability, then security is meaningless from the start…”

“Gal! From now on, before you go to sleep, you must at least sing four layers of incantations: [Repeat], [Auto-play], [Silence], [Barrier]. Naturally, call Hayul and plaster the train cars with puppet strings.”

“Uh, but those spider webs are a bit…”

“Gal! If you die, Korea is finished. Are you aware of your position?”

“Um, okay… Yeah, I’m sorry…”

“Good. No, thinking about it, singing incantations before sleep isn’t realistic.”

“Oh! That’s what I’ve been trying to say…”

“Therefore, we need to make an impregnable fortress. Don’t worry, Tang Seorin. I won’t ask you to leave your beloved train. Instead, I’ll transform this train into the strongest fortress on earth.”

“……”

Tang Seorin looked at me with an expression that said, ‘Why has this guy suddenly become such a pain?’ But I ignored it.

In the end, not only my base but also the train of the Three Thousand Worlds was transformed into the ‘Ultimate Weapon—Train Fortress—Galaxy Express 999.’ Now, not even a swarm of assassins’ grandfathers could breach it.

In the seventh year.

“Wow. Doctor Jang, look at that.”

“Mm? Ah, it’s a meteor shower. It’s likely the annual meteor stream.”

“Really? There are so many. It’s beautiful. It would be even prettier if someone hadn’t covered the windows of my luxurious train car with steel bars and spider webs.”

“……”

After having drinks with Tang Seorin, I returned to my base and fell into a peaceful sleep――.

“Ah, hello everyone! Hmm, the number seems a bit smaller… Anyway, you must be surprised to be suddenly summoned here! But don’t worry! I’ll be your friendly guide from the very beginning!”

Naturally, I had regressed again.

The familiar ceiling of the waiting room at Busan Station greeted my eyes. Of course, the 264th tutorial fairy was also flying around cutely.

“……”

My vision grew dim.

In my ears, SG Guy’s ever-so-friendly alarm rang out.

“You son of a bitch!”

[Translator – Jjsecus]

[Proofreader – Gun]