Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: For Elise (1)
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There's no clear answer to the problems you face in life.
'The fact that there's no right answer in worldly affairs is both an advantage and a disadvantage.'
The absence of a set answer in life is a tremendous stroke of luck.
Because you don't have to blame yourself for bad judgment.
'No red X marks on the scorecard of life.'
That's a huge plus. Imagine if every time you bought a pack of cigarettes, a message popped up in your head saying, "Wrong answer. Lung cancer stat increased by 1." How awful would that be?
'No wonder people hate studying so much.'
Tests have definitive right answers.
So you know immediately when you're wrong.
The feedback is instant—right or wrong.
'Who'd enjoy studying when checking your answers feels like getting reamed every time you're wrong?'
That's why people hate studying and exams.
Problems with set answers divide people into "the wise" and "the screw-ups."
'Life doesn't even have an answer key, though.'
Life has no right answers.
No right answers means no wrong ones either.
Your own life is free to screw up as much as you want.
No scolding or point deductions for being wrong.
But flip the perspective, and it's also a downside.
'No answer key means you don't even realize your mistakes.'
How nice would it be to have someone point out every wrong choice precisely?
Who knows—maybe cigarette sales would visibly drop if lung cancer stats were visible.
Show a heavy smoker the answer key: "This was your lung, pickled in nicotine," and unless they're hopelessly addicted, they'd at least consider quitting.
'Sometimes you wish life had right answers too.'
Inferno Earth Village has way too many raw deals.
Like loans tanking because of some shady stock.
So there I was, sighing deeply once again.
"Damn it. Is this really the right strategy?"
The Sealed Tower strategy I'd agonized over for days.
Wondering if it was truly correct or not.
Friday, 6:30 PM.
As I prepped for the broadcast, I was agonizing over my identity—unemployed bum, newbie YouTuber, or hunter?
Would the strategy I'd planned work or flop?
Even I, who'd prepped it, kept waffling.
'Hard to test if this method works without committing.'
The Sealed Tower stream was still 30 minutes out.
If I wanted, I could peek inside briefly.
Plenty of time for a quick hit-and-run to gauge difficulty.
But I couldn't bring myself to do it.
'If the dungeon weren't such a pain, I'd test-run it first.'
I clicked my tongue, observing the tall tower from afar with ghosts.
Blood Bats swarmed around its walls.
Those bastards were the root of my worries.
"Unclear how the Blood Bats will react to a preemptive strike."
Would they hold position despite aggro?
Or unlike traps, swarm down?
If they dove in a pack, hunting would be easy.
Just summon zombies to tank and sweep them.
'But that kills the broadcast concept.'
Climbing the tower? Done.
Turns into a monster wave survival against enemies.
'Sudden concept shift is hard to handle.'
My reflexes and leeway would tank.
Which means no fun broadcast.
'Preemptive strike starts combat before going live—disaster.'
My channel's core content is gate raid streams.
Clear trash mobs first, then start streaming?
'"Live stream my ass, faker,"—instant controversy.'
I shook my head, anticipating reactions.
Who even cleared those mobs—me or someone else?
100% backlash, like hidden sponsorships.
Worse, no way to prove innocence.
"No ideal option? Gotta pick what's there."
Life's all about that, right?
After stretching through the remaining 30 minutes,
I switched the stream to public.
"Hey everyone? Good evening, my beloved viewers. Your idol Yeoto here."
Quit overhyping me like that. You'll get attached.
"Yeah, great to see you all. Last stream was spaced out, so you ragged on me—here quicker this time. No need to thank me."
Sigh. Look at this scatterbrain chaos.
Tens of thousands chattering—chat won't stop.
'No wonder streamers can't reply to every chat.'
The stream captain can't steer by every passenger's whim.
Sorry, had to ignore most chats.
Luckily, my worry didn't last.
Some wanted to go where I was headed.
Right—came for gate live, expect raids.
Clap! I clapped at the camera.
To refocus attention.
"Okay, okay. This isn't an everyday chance. Today's stream: raiding the Sealed Tower, Absolute Defense Line chain gate. Check the screen."
I panned to the Sealed Tower.
Speechless? Frustrating? Tell me about it—I'm the most pissed.
"Right? Even a glance shows it's a scammy gate topping Absolute Defense."
I shook my head, clucking my tongue.
Emphasizing difficulty, but no acting—this frustration was real vibes.
"See? Boss probably atop the tower. Climbers need both hands for walls—even with tools. Can't fight."
"No door. Tried bombing the tower—didn't even scratch. No clue what it's made of."
Plausible idea, zero value.
Deep down, I'd love to.
"Snipe boss from top? Nope. Blood Bats hear boss fight noise, swarm—who knows? Gangbang ends us."
Besides, leave trash mobs?
'Dungeon break, idiots.'
Kill boss and bail from gate?
Worse than cherry-picking egg from kimchi fried rice.
Even cherry-pickers have standards.
Hunters close gates.
Yet some "hunter" leaves trash?
Gate crumbles, mobs escape.
'Clear violation of Association rules.'
Bulky Association guys and cops at my door.
No excuses. License revoked, red line.
"No choice. Must climb the tower. Brutally tough."
Every method had impossibilities.
Skipping details to avoid drag.
I zoomed on Blood Bats.
"Blood Bats are trash, but hard sans arms— they fly."
"Curious what falling does? I'll show you."
I spun the camera to the tower's far side.
A zombie's back, climbing barehanded.
"Uwaaaaaagh...!"
Faint groans from ground level!
Head-sized bats blanketed the zombie.
"Squeeee!!"
Blood Bats mauled the armless zombie relentlessly. Despite tankiness, it barely climbed before plummeting.
Whiiiiiish... Boom!!
"Kyaak!"
HP zero on impact—unsummoned.
A picture's worth a thousand words.
Viewers gawked at the zombie's state.
They laugh, but I caught it.
Viewers inwardly panicking.
'Lucky it's zombies—if human?'
Low-rank hunter? Corpse cleanup.
Viler than destructible traps.
"Gate strategy's obvious."
I dusted hands, loosening wrists.
"Two main foes: gravity grabbing ankles mid-climb. And boss stronger than Absolute Defense's mad skulls."
Chain gates up difficulty from prior.
Yet trash same as last map.
Implies boss strength.
"While I hemmed and hawed, Association folks measured difficulty."
During my Iyahn meet.
'Guarded to prevent secret clears too.'
New gate—free measure.
Results this morning.
"Near D-grade, difficulty E."
I half-lidded eyes tensely.
"Association said too much for current F-rank me."
Absolute Defense no longer world's worst E-gate.
Passing torch to Sealed Tower.
"Bought Absolute Defense—mine too. If I fail, Association seizes, auctions, sends proceeds. Won't happen."
Because I'll clear it.
I grinned genuinely first in days.
"Know this? Solo-closing higher-rank gate gives big bonus in promotion review."
Bonus points for high-diff clears!
Didn't know till yesterday.
'Association measurer told me.'
Hearing it fired my clear urge harder.
"Can't stay F-rank forever."
E-promotion leaves 5 ranks above.
Surging loan interest.
Association stock still negative.
Self-inflicted karma tightening noose.
Languish through reviews, wait results?
Ridiculous.
After junior sunbae begged for block, this genius reporter-cameraman-hunter won't crawl like a maggot.
"Pushing this gate, promoting to E."
Oh, promotion exam separate, sure.
I surged mana, activating skill.
"Call Ancestor Spirits."
Ghosts giggled, calling friends.
Ancestor Spirits.
Or little ghosts to me.
Stream-essential cameras.
I didn't stop.
Cooldown up—summon again.
"Call Ancestor Spirits."
Blink—triple little ghosts!
Tablecloth ghosts waved cutely, glowing will-o'-wisp style.
Better reactions than expected. Sorry in advance.
They'll like these kids, then see unspeakable stuff... Won't quit my stream, right?
These punks—watch their mouths.
"Necromancer why fuck. Our job's plenty badass."
"Huh?"
I flinched, about to retort—froze.
Shocked enough to nearly spill gifted mana potions.
'Whoa, startled. These ain't cheap.'
Whew, prepped bottles—close call.
I clutched bottle and chest awkwardly.
"How'd you know? Did I drunk-spoil the strategy?"
What? You just spoiled.
I scratched cheek absently.
"Nah, some chats know exactly how I'll sweep those mobs."
Low-level ghosts invisible to people.
Hunters included.
Visible ghosts? Minimum specter-grade.
'Unless I use a certain skill.'
This skill makes them glow.
Gulp. Gulp—.
Downed a prepped potion.
"Camera flash blinds eyes—bad news. Filming cams heavy, dangerous."
IMHO, cameras near weapons.
Perfectly bury a body.
Socially, physically.
"So, bashing bats with cameras."
Mana restored—skill time.
No one forgot last gate, right?
Cute ghosts turned auto-tracking missiles.