Debt-Chasing Iron Streamer (6)
Yuri0921. I'd heard that ID somewhere before.
"Ah!"
Racking my brain, a vague memory surfaced. A legendary ADC from the early days of Asgard, whose name had shaken the world.
The god of ADCs, literally. They'd turned down countless pro offers, shrouded in mystery, never doing streams or interviews.
"Let's see what you've got."
I popped a piece of chicken in my mouth and hit play.
One minute into the video, I dropped the drumstick from my lips onto the floor.
"Whoa."
Is this human physicality? In just one minute, I felt a physical gap I'd never bridge in my lifetime. This wasn't skill—this was a different species, DNA-level different. To beat this player, I'd have to be reborn.
The ADC stepping forward to sweep the enemy base clean—it was straight out of a movie.
Dodging every skill? All of them non-targeted?
This player evaded every single one. Insane movement.
Distance control is perfect too.
Is this a person?
No.
Is this the same role as me, an ADC?
Honestly, I felt an insurmountable wall.
"Fuck."
Looking back, I wasn't even an ADC. Not even an ADC assistant—that was too generous. If I had to name it, maybe a ranged minion. I'd even died to minion attacks before.
I scrolled down to check the comments. As expected, pure praise.
"Jealous."
I stared at the screen, entranced. There was the ultimate ADC I'd always chased.
"I wanna learn Asgard from this player..."
Even a talentless scrub like me would skyrocket.
*
"Hoo..."
I let out a long sigh. Twelve hours into the stream already. A brutal schedule no normal streamer would touch.
The viewers sensed something was off, flooding chat with concern. But I couldn't stop. A man's word is bond—I had to pay off the debt fast.
"Missions... taking missions. Anyone got requests? Kills, or like last game, wreck the support—whatever."
"Doping...?"
Choco-mongs were already piled on my desk. I grabbed one with a straw and slurped deep.
-Slurrrp.
"Ha."
Feels like I can live.
Matching popped in the meantime.
Matching accepted.
Accept, screen shifts to pick phase.
Picked my main Nike as usual, checked allies.
"No trolls, good."
Just one concept troll. Better than a leaver threatening to throw from start.
"Crane-feather fan's kinda annoying."
Loading ends, game starts. I buy items, position for invade defense. Then ZhugeSheep spam-pings frantically.
"Sniper much."
Probably rushed in seeing the stream, trying to roleplay. Sure enough, kept nitpicking me. Mid laner ignoring CS, just staring bot.
Why's chat quiet but ears ringing? Vision blurred. Body floating, drowsy.
Sleepy...
Sleep hit late. Pushed through mentally, but 12-hour stream wrecked this body. Old sturdy build maybe fine, not this one.
Taking flak from ZhugeSheep, I dazedly smacked minions. Sole thought: earn cash. But head drooped anyway.
Nike stood still, eating hits freely. HP zero, down.
Character dead.
Me too. Sleepy.
*
Time passed.
Groggy-eyed, I checked my phone alarm and freaked.
"Waaah!"
A whopping 1.2 million!!
Just playing Asgard and money duplicated!
"It actually came."
Unreal. Gaming in my room and cash flows in. Worlds apart from slaving with bricks.
"Heh heh."
Opened bank app. First thing with income: obvious.
Sent 500k straight to Simhae Cheongsobu. Kept 700k for living and emergencies.
Transfer complete.
Sent Simhae a message too.
Wait wasn't long. Reply in a minute.
"What a talker."
I chuckled, typing back.
Simhae's right. Streaming's red ocean now. Most quit without recouping gear.
But I pulled it off. Wasn't easy—12+ hour murder schedule, tons of suffering.
Worried? Touching. I replied all dignified.