At the time, Juhyeok was at his parents' house.
He had stopped by on the way back from the Namyangju villa to his Cheongdam-dong home.
He'd been calling often, but it had been a long time since they'd seen his face.
"I'm here. Juhyeok's home."
But then—
"O-Oh, welcome. N-no trouble… no, I guess there is trouble."
His father glanced at him cautiously.
'Hmm.'
Was it awkward dealing with a son who'd become the richest man in the world?
'That's understandable.'
He got it.
Even parents could feel burdened when their child became too successful.
His younger brother Minhyuk shuffled out of his room as well.
"Hyung? You're okay, right? You're not having dark thoughts or anything, are you?"
What's with this idiot now?
Dark thoughts, my ass.
Their mother spoke calmly.
"Juhyeok, don't be too upset. You've earned a lot of money already. There's no need to regret it just because it broke. When technology advances, it can be repaired."
Now he understood.
"Wait—are you all comforting me because the holy sword broke?"
"Hem-hem, so what if you're not a Holy Sword Owner anymore? You can just be a building owner. Buy a building with the money you've saved."
"We've lived without greed all this time, hyung. It's fine. Everything will work out."
"And the money you gave us before—we haven't spent a single won. You can take it back if you want."
Good grief. Not a single won used? This whole loser family.
"I knew this would happen. I told you to spend it however you want! I've got tons of money, okay? Mom, go luxury shopping at department stores, okay? Dad, buy yourself a high-end sedan, okay? Minhyuk, go to the Apple Store and buy the most expensive pad they have and get applauded by the staff, okay?"
Minhyuk stared blankly.
"…What are you talking about? Why would I get applauded?"
"It's a thing, you brat!"
There was no helping it.
He'd planned to reveal the holy sword repair with a big bang at the decisive moment.
He'd even coordinated it with Vice Director Jeon Gwang-il—
"Whew. Mom, Dad, and Minhyuk."
Well, family could know.
It wasn't some huge secret.
"The holy sword? I fixed it."
"…Fixed it? It was split clean in half three days ago."
"I put it back together. Perfectly. But it's a secret, so don't go around telling people."
"I-Is that really true?"
"Yes."
"You're not lying, are you?"
"It's me, Juhyeok. If I lie, it shows right away."
"Well… that's true."
For a moment, his father's eyes sparkled.
"Then can I buy a car?"
"Go buy one right now. Get a good one—and later, when you're driving, don't crawl along the highway at 50 km/h."
"Huh? Is there really some lunatic who does that?"
"…Probably not anymore."
Still, he was grateful for their concern.
"By the way, aren't you feeding me?"
"Just wait a bit, I'm setting the table right now."
"Ah, I'm starving. Hurry—"
That was when it happened.
[World Announcement: Humanity has encountered a sentient demon for the first time.]
[World Announcement: The High-Ranking Demon Kabalon, Duke (Replica) is observing the world.]
A world announcement?
What now?
The atmosphere in the house shifted too.
Everyone froze mid-motion.
"D-Demon race? Is that the name of a pork dish?"
"Why can I hear this?"
"Mom, you too?"
"Y-Yeah. It's ringing right in my ears."
"Why is Duke Carnival observing us?"
"It's not Carnival. It's Kabalon."
"Right, Carnival Replica."
Everyone heard it.
Juhyeok realized then.
A world announcement.
The recipients were, quite literally, the world.
The French Black Tower—floors 65, 66, 67, 68, and 69—cleared in one continuous, uninterrupted chain.
Because it was the French Black Tower, French players were the first to notice.
At first, all they felt was disbelief.
Five floors cleared at once?
Was the Black Tower insane?
Had there been a system error?
Even more absurd—the clear times for each floor were spaced exactly one second apart.
No matter how you looked at it, it wasn't normal.
Then came the next message.
This time, it was a world announcement.
Not just French players, but players across the globe—no, every human on Earth received it.
Everyone heard it.
Elderly couples walking hand in hand down the street.
Elementary, middle, and high school students heading home after class.
Vendors selling goods at markets, laborers at construction sites.
Politicians, civil servants, office workers, shut-in NEETs… even newborn babies heard it.
Of course, they couldn't understand its meaning.
But in that moment, the world must have gone quiet.
Duke Kabalon of the demon race?
The Curse of the Average?
Match seventy floors?
Why seventy, of all numbers?
The world fell into chaos.
What on earth was happening, and why?
After the initial uproar subsided, attention turned to France.
Because the first anomaly had occurred there.
The event where five floors were cleared in five seconds—and France's tower progress jumped to the 70th floor overnight.
The French government couldn't hide it.
They had no choice but to disclose what had happened.
The key lay in the death of their top player, Guillaume Loiret.
Footage from CCTV cameras installed in his home to monitor him due to his long battle with depression.
The video showed Guillaume entering the tower—
And then, immediately after the general announcements and world announcements rang out,
He appeared—already a corpse.
Thus, one hypothesis was established.
"There is an item called a Tower Jumping Ticket. The reward probability is extremely low, but it does exist."
Director Antonio, his expression stiff, reported to Secretary of Homeland Security Macmillan.
"I know. I also know it's a damn useless item."
"Normally, the rule is for the government to confiscate and store it, but…"
"So Guillaume had been hiding it."
"Yes. That's how he managed to clear five floors in a single day. There's a very high probability that the demon Duke Kabalon is the boss of the 70th floor."
"Probability? It's certain."
The first sentient monster.
And it was spreading curses beyond the tower itself?
The Curse of the Average.
Ten countries had been selected.
South Africa, Mexico, Saudi Arabia, America (USA), Japan, the Netherlands, Senegal, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, and Kazakhstan.
It was insane.
The United States was included as well.
The selected countries had to rapidly push into higher floors.
Because it was said that their time limits would keep shrinking.
And they really did.
For example, a tower progress status window would show something like:
[Time Limit]: 101 days, 5 hours, 25 minutes, 38 seconds
You could see hours, minutes, even seconds.
But it started shrinking rapidly.
The speed was gradually increasing.
Like a time bomb with the wrong wire cut, the deadline was dropping at a terrifying rate.
Gradually, steadily, accelerating—
The curse was real.
"To lift the curse, the global average has to reach the 70th floor. Is that even possible?"
"Well, if we're given enough time… it might be possible."
There were 145 towers on Earth.
Not every country had one.
Some countries did, others didn't.
The criteria were population size and land area.
Countries with small territories or populations under three million didn't have towers.
And divided countries like North and South Korea shared a single tower.
Of course, some countries had multiple towers.
One hundred forty-five towers.
Let's assume every Black Tower on Earth reaches an average of 70 floors.
Repeated clears and re-clears don't count.
Only the first ascent of previously uncleared upper floors is included.
An average of 70 floors across 145 towers meant a required total of 10,150 floors.
But the current global average floor was about 55.
The total number of previously uncleared upper floors conquered so far was about 7,975.
What's 10,150 minus 7,975?
"By simple calculation, the number of new upper floors the world still needs to clear to reach an average of 70 is 2,175."
"This is driving me insane."
Not everyone had to reach the 70th floor.
Only the average mattered.
But was that even possible?
"If the countries below the 60th floor really push and climb ten more floors each…"
"Tsk. Easy to say."
"We'd have to apply pressure. Assign tower-clearing quotas."
"You're talking nonsense. Do you think that would work?"
Exactly.
Each country's tower progression was entirely up to that nation's players and government.
Would it work to tell them, "Your country must clear the Black Tower up to this floor"?
But if a country said, "We weren't selected among the ten, so we won't hurry," and refused to cooperate, they'd be condemned by the rest of the world.
That was the terrifying aspect of the Curse of the Average.
Countries that failed to meet the average—those dragging the average down—would inevitably become global pariahs.
The seeds of conflict had been sown.
If things went wrong, a Third World War might even break out.
"At this point, war would almost be easier. How convenient would it be to conquer the world and make it a single nation?"
"…The Earth would be finished before that."
"What about defeating Duke Kabalon?"
"Well… the condition is defeating the true body, not a replica. The Kabalon on the 70th floor of the French Black Tower is very likely just a replica."
Then where was the true body?
"On the 70th floor of one of the 145 towers, most likely. In the end, it means every country has to clear the 70th floor to lift the curse."
"Hahaha. We're screwed."
The future was painfully clear.
Black Towers collapsing across the globe.
The Earth riddled with holes, bursting open everywhere.
The world had changed in an instant.
From now on, the entire paradigm of tower conquest would be overturned.
Since the U.S. was one of the ten selected countries, clearing the 67th floor was now urgent.
But there was one massive remaining problem.
"If only the holy sword hadn't broken…"
"Haa…"
The holy sword.
With the holy sword alone, reaching an average of 70 floors wasn't an impossible goal.
Countries stuck in the 50s could be handled through temporary naturalization by advanced nations, and the ones in the 60s could push upward using the holy sword.
"The key is the holy sword. If we can just repair it somehow, there's still hope."
But could it be repaired?
Expert opinions were almost unanimously negative.
Repairing it was impossible.
Even if it were repaired, it wouldn't be able to display its former effectiveness.
"Should I contact the Korean government again?"
"Again?"
"It's urgent."
"Just wait. They'll announce their stance soon enough. All we can do is pray and wait."
Saudi Arabia was in agony.
The criticism from other countries was secondary.
They could grit their teeth and endure that.
But among the ten countries selected and ordered to rapidly clear towers to reach the average, Saudi Arabia's name was included.
Among the ten, only two countries were in the 60s—America and Saudi Arabia.
The remaining eight were all stuck in the 50s.
For countries in the 50s, there were many options.
Temporary naturalization was one of them.
Players above level 50 were fairly common.
So climbing was entirely possible—some countries had simply delayed to manage timing.
But countries in the 60s?
Were players above level 60 common?
And with the holy sword broken on top of that?
Saudi Arabia originally had the most remaining time.
Because they'd cleared a floor most recently.
But the moment they were selected, their time limit began visibly shrinking.
And because they'd had the most time left, it was shrinking the fastest.
King Ibn bin Al-Wahid of Saudi Arabia asked Minister Majed,
"Can Nasser clear the 67th floor within a month?"
"If he achieves another trait enhancement, perhaps…"
"I don't need vague assumptions. I need a definite answer."
"…"
Minister Majed couldn't respond.
In truth, they had already sent Nasser into the 67th floor.
He hadn't even managed to kill a single Phantom Reaper.
It was on a completely different level from Specters.
Light-attribute items were practically useless.
Even if he achieved another trait enhancement in this situation?
It wouldn't work.
In fact, Nasser had already undergone trait enhancement when he attempted the 66th floor.
And he still failed.
They'd succeeded only by borrowing the holy sword.
And now the 67th floor?
"So it's impossible."
"…I-I'm sorry."
"Hoo… if only the holy sword hadn't broken."
Broken?
He had broken it himself, but King Al-Wahid of Saudi Arabia refused to acknowledge that to the very end.
Japan was also burning with urgency.
The looming reality of tower collapse.
The conquest deadline trickling down like sand through an hourglass.
How were they supposed to clear the 58th floor?
There was only one option.
Prime Minister Kawaguchi shouted at the foreign minister.
"Contact Saudi Arabia immediately. We signed a tower-collapse defense pact—tell them to honor it!"
"We already did."
"And their response?"
"T-They say Saudi Arabia is struggling as well right now. And that since the defense pact was only verbal, it has no legal force…"
"What?"
It was technically true.
They'd talked about forming a pact, but there had been no signatures, no seals.
"Damn it all!!!"
So who was going to clear Japan's 58th floor?
The tower's collapse was truly right in front of them.
At the Korean Awakened Management Agency, things were chaotic too—but comparatively relaxed.
They had something to rely on.
After finishing a phone call, Vice Director Jeon Gwang-il answered Director Park Gyeongsu's question.
"Did you call him? What did Player Bong say?"
"Yes. He said we can reveal it right away. He wants the holy sword rental to resume quickly."
"Whew… then what about the rental fee?"
"He said to keep it the same. That now isn't the time to raise holy sword rental prices."
"Haha, as expected of a man of great character. He could easily take this chance to make a fortune."
"Well, isn't that why he received the holy sword as a reward?"
Park Gyeongsu nodded and continued.
"I wonder if people even realize how much they owe him."
"They don't. Just look at what Saudi Arabia is doing. They cleared the 66th floor using the holy sword's power, broke it, and now they're acting shamelessly."
If they'd just offered a single apology, people wouldn't be this angry.
"What should we do? Japan is one thing, but we can't just let Saudi Arabia off the hook."
"Don't worry. I have an idea."
"…What is it?"
Park Gyeongsu smiled thinly.
"When the repaired holy sword is revealed, Saudi Arabia will have no choice but to bow their heads, right?"
Of course.
If they wanted to survive, they'd have to.
"But a simple apology won't cut it."
Accepting a half-hearted apology would make them nothing but suckers.
"At the very least, shouldn't they crawl over on all fours carrying a trait-enhancement rune?"
Jeon Gwang-il smiled in satisfaction.
"Well said. An apology made of words alone is meaningless. We need something worthy to give to Player Bong as well."
A trait-enhancement rune.
An item that was extremely hard to obtain now.
In the early days of tower climbing, the market had been flooded with them.
Back then, the reward probability had been very high.
But as time passed, the probability dropped lower and lower, and now they almost never appeared.
And the country that had swept up most of those runes when they were plentiful?
Saudi Arabia.
They were guaranteed to have at least one.
"When should we hold the press conference to reveal the holy sword repair?"
"Tomorrow. Immediately."
"Will you do it yourself?"
"I've done it before—it was quite exhilarating."
"Hahaha. I'll make the preparations."
If one were to list the most shocking events in human history:
First—the appearance of the towers.
Second—the collapse of the Mumbai Tower.
Third—the world announcements from the tower.
Even ordinary people, who had remained mere observers until now, heard the curse cast by Duke Kabalon—or rather, by the tower itself.
Naturally, the world fell into turmoil.
Strange, frightening, worrisome, bewildering—beyond words.
In the midst of it all, the Korean Awakened Management Agency announced a press conference.
Was it about the holy sword repair?
Had it really been repaired—or had it failed?
If repaired, could it fully display its original performance?
If it failed, would Korea hand it over to a country with superior technology?
Every media outlet in the world turned its attention to Korea.
The agency's main auditorium served as the press venue, and it was packed to the brim.
Director Park Gyeongsu stood at the podium.
Jeon Gwang-il stood beside him.
"First, please watch the footage."
Footage?
The press room began to murmur.
A video played on the large screen.
Bodycam footage.
A Specter descended from the sky toward the ground.
In that instant—
Flaaaash!
Brilliant light filled the entire screen.
"Gasp!"
"Ah…"
"Th-That is…?"
"My god!"
"Insane!"
It was the holy sword.
The same holy sword everyone had seen in past footage.
But the intensity—the radiance—was completely different.
If its previous glow had been like a firefly, this one was like a high-powered searchlight.
Slash, slash, slash—
In three strikes, a single Specter was incinerated.
"The holy sword has been completely repaired."
Park Gyeongsu continued, smiling broadly.
"No—rather than repaired, it would be more accurate to say it has been reborn. Citizens of Korea, citizens of the world, you may rest assured regarding 60th-floor-level conquests. Do not worry, and return to your daily lives."
Silence fell over the hall.
"The repair of the holy sword was carried out personally by its owner. Yes—the very person who first obtained the holy sword. Humanity owes that individual its deepest gratitude. And then…"
Park Gyeongsu concluded with a single line.
"We are now accepting reservations for holy sword rentals."
The press hall erupted in deafening cheers.
And it wasn't just there.
Every place with a television erupted the same way.
It wasn't a perfect solution—but the most dangerous hurdle had been cleared.
Everyone felt relieved.
Everyone rejoiced.
Everyone felt grateful.
Of course, there were countries that couldn't bring themselves to smile.