It's Easy

After nearly ten minutes of floundering, I finally managed to calm the chat down.

Subscriptions usually came with their own requirements, so most rookie VTubers couldn't open them right away — but the Yoo Serin account already had streaming history, so the option was already unlocked. Between that and the kids hopping on half for the fun of it, the place had turned into pure chaos.

Among them were people who'd actually watched the real Yoo Arin's streams. Ordinarily, the polite thing was to stay quiet about past lives — though technically this wasn't even reincarnation, just a swapped shell.

How am I supposed to respond to that…

I turned it over and over in my head, then answered.

"I'm a whole New Neo Ultra Alpha Megaton Yoo Serin now, so please treat me like a completely different person!"

Just draw a line. That was the conclusion I'd reached. If I tried to keep some connection going, I was bound to slip up.

Thankfully, even the old viewers seemed willing to roll with it. Of course, there were only about nine of them to begin with, and not all of them had even shown up — so there wasn't much to worry about regarding past streams. If anyone pressed, I could just go with what Hakko-whatever said and claim I'd studied up and changed the concept.

"Anyway! To celebrate the new avatar, I'm doing an all-clear!"

Dragging the chat out further was getting exhausting, so I scrambled for the mouse. The opening of Light Soul 3 filled the broadcast screen. In the middle of it all, I'd forgotten to kill the BGM still playing in the background, which earned me a little more ribbing.

"I'm finishing this all the way today!"

The moment the main menu boomed onto the screen, chat erupted into a frenzy.

Naturally, everyone assumed it was impossible. I'd have snorted too if some girl VTuber announced she was going to all-clear LaSo. It wasn't about looking down on girls so much as the fact that most VTubers built their brand around cute interaction and pseudo-romance — stacking a "she's actually cracked at games" image on top of that was no small feat.

And then a massive mission dropped on top of everything!

"O-One hundred thousand won?!"

My jaw hit the floor at the number. Someone was throwing that much money at clearing a single game?!

"Th-thank you! Um… are you sure about giving this much?"

I asked carefully. What if this was some kind of bait-and-switch? Fazijik would handle it, of course, but receiving a sum this big so casually still left me dazed.

Chat was uniformly in a "you're cooked" mood — but like someone had already said, as far as I was concerned, that money was already in my pocket. Now, if the mission had a six-hour time limit or something, that might be different. But I didn't even need to get lost anymore; I was confident I could finish within three hours.

"Heh… heheh…."

I couldn't stop the laughter leaking out.

And the mission pots just kept climbing. Part of me wanted to drag things out and milk every last won — but even so, a gamer still had a conscience.

"I've watched a lot of Hanryang's streams, so I know the game pretty well."

One of Fazijik's flagship streamers and the godfather of the Korean variety-gaming scene. Saying you were a regular Hanryang viewer was basically a free pass for "ah, so you know your stuff."

It was a lie, of course. I had watched the streams — but I'd also actually played LaSo myself. With zero hours logged on this account, though, claiming experience was basically confessing to a smurf. And I couldn't exactly say a thirteen-year-old girl had practiced at a friend's house…

Doesn't really matter.

This way or that, who cared. I was going to demolish every game in existence going forward. Even if people started suspecting some kind of math-prodigy genius, I could just prove myself on the next new release.

"Hmm… what should I pick?"

I hit start and landed on character customization. The moment origin selection came up, chat flooded exactly as expected.

These were the kind of people who thrived on a streamer's suffering, so of course they were ruthless. Recommending the Beggar — the class that had to rely on a single club — and not just one or two of them, but the vast majority of the audience. At this point it was basically coercion.

"Come on, anyone can see that's garbage."

A top-tier streamer knew how to turn even a situation like this to their advantage. I bounced it back once, and that familiar donation chime rang out again.

There it was. Of course a guy like this would show up for a LaSo stream.

"Thank you for the ten thousand!"

I bowed to the cool donor, then made a little show of deliberating as I moved the mouse.

"Fine, fine! I'll pick Beggar, okay?!"

After soaking up the reaction, I chose Beggar with a reluctant air. For the cosmetics I just grabbed a preset and hit create.

"Ugh, this is bad and we all know it!"

I played along with the banter and the viewers beamed. Word that a tiny VTuber had started a LaSo all-clear must have been spreading, because the viewer count was already racing toward 150.

"Alright, let's go!"

And just like that, the all-clear was properly underway. From here on, there was nothing special I needed to worry about. Just do what I'd always done.

Thwack!

Clatter-clatter-clatter—

Thud!

After a quick run through the controls, I massacred the monsters at the starting point.

Anyone could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tell they were just trying to mess with me. That was streaming culture. What they couldn't possibly imagine was that I was the one messing with them.

"Wasn't there a hidden mob this way?"

Before the viewers could even bait me into it, I headed straight for one of the classic newbie shredders — a hidden mob.

The viewers had gone past hyping and straight into throwing a party. Unfortunately for their expectations—

Thwack!

Thud!

Screeeeeech—!

I wasn't about to die to some lizard.

Damn, took four hits.

Must have been the nerves from being on stream — uncharacteristically, I burned a potion on trash mobs. If a friend had been watching, my face would've gone red. But of course the viewers had no idea what was going through my head.

"You just look and dodge."

That was all I needed to say. Look and dodge — that was essentially the entire souls-like genre. I hadn't even bothered memorizing the patterns. My reaction speed was just absurdly cracked.

Viewers who'd seen the performance poured out praise. Most of it still carried a "let's see at the boss" undertone, and a few snide comments were mixed in between.

They're not wrong, though.

It was a common field mob. Getting this worked up over it was blatant hype-glazing. And I had no intention of being satisfied with this level either.

Rrrrrrumble—!

After the skill check, I returned to the first boss room. As always, Dagon unfroze his stiff body and welcomed a new challenger.

I skimmed the rapidly scrolling chat, then charged the boss without a second thought. Club-smacking commenced immediately!!

Thwack!

Thuuud!

Phase one had huge recovery frames, so as long as I had stamina I could just beat on him and clear it easily. Then phase two began — the transformation pattern. Normally, waiting out a transformation was just good manners, but I didn't have that kind of generosity in me.

Thwack!

Thuuuuud!!

Phase two wasn't anything special either. He looked a little scarier, sure, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but every move was so telegraphed that all you had to do was roll on cue. Getting scared and backing off was how you actually got hit by Dagon.

Thwack!

Under that relentless, breathless damage, the giant finally dropped to one knee.

This time without using a single potion, I flashed a grin at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠face-cam phone.

"It's easy."