Gawol (4)

A crisp wind brushed past me.

As I moved like I was vaulting from tree to tree, the current of air slipped between the folds of my clothes. The soft snap of black fabric flaring out. A pleasant chill cooling my skin. It was a sensation no ordinary gamer could ever properly enjoy. I was the only one who played this game at a Sensory Synchronization Rate of seventy percent. That meant the omnipotent rush of this moment belonged to me alone.

I savored freedom the way a bird savors the sky.

At the end of that freedom lay my first target. High enough, I decided. From the crown of a towering tree in the Great Forest, my body sprang upward as if on a trampoline. The leaf-veiled sky slid past the edge of my vision, and I plummeted headfirst, beloved short sword already firm in my grip.

On the forest floor, a naive warrior was locked in combat with a pack of wolves. The last streamer I had killed. BoozeBun.

“You said a white dot popped up on the minimap earlier? Ah, seriously, cut it out. I’ve heard that line like thirty times today. I swear I’m gonna ban—”

Shhhhk!

My vision inverted at the same instant the blade cleanly split his shoulder. A perfect critical wound, yet still not quite enough. A top-tier player’s specs wouldn’t die from that alone. No matter how aggressive my build, a single strike couldn’t finish a heavily armored warrior. So a second and third attack were required.

I drew a breath and burned the sturdy warrior’s condition into my eyes. The ambush had left him full of openings. Good. His stance was broken; the initiative was mine. The window in which I could move him freely lasted roughly two seconds. First priority: slash the wrist holding the sword so a counter would be difficult.

BoozeBun shouted as if the universe itself were unfair.

“Why—why is it me again…!”

“Because you were close. I just woke up after killing you once already. You should’ve run farther.”

I wasn’t lying. I would have hunted him down even if he’d been far away, but nothing I said was false. He wasn’t stupid either; his free hand was already reaching for the secondary weapon. I reversed the grip on my sword and forced the blade into the joint of his armor. A long gash opened from the elbow along the artery.

Next, work the back? Or finish crippling the arm—that works too.

The warrior’s posture curled defensively. Better to go for the rear, then. Mana drained in a rush as my position shifted. BoozeBun’s back filled my vision. First, a polite greeting to the thigh. Next, both Achilles tendons. Once mobility was gone, I severed the tendons behind the knees and forced him to kneel. For good measure I left a cut across the shoulder, snuffing out any last resistance. The blade resting against his nape was my way of granting him a little time.

This was the moment I loved most.

Every emotion showed in the streamer’s posture, and the chat window I’d pinned in the corner of my vision exploded.

Even a glance showed the firepower wasn’t bad. Some people cursed me, but plenty of others were clearly enjoying the show. A strange heat—or maybe a kind of pleasure—rose from my chest down toward my lower belly. The moment the pleasure chemicals flooding my brain swallowed my mind, blood surged as if a stopped heart had started beating again.

“Chat’s fun. Guess you’ve got more karma than I thought? Other streams fill up with nothing but hate for me. Yours is pretty split.”

“So what? If you’re gonna kill me, just do it. You’re talking a lot today.”

“Don’t give up. If the viewers beg hard enough I might let you live. Streaming’s important, right? Can’t disappoint the audience.”

Killing a streamer felt like stealing their broadcast. Killing a pro gamer felt like shattering the honor and crushing weight that came with the title of professional. Things I could never have. I knew it. I knew better than anyone that this pleasure wasn’t healthy. But it felt good, so what was I supposed to do? You people shine. You live wrapped in a light ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I can never possess again. I was thrown into hell just because one of my legs is ruined—can’t I snatch that light for a little while and wear it myself? It’s not like anyone actually dies. I just enjoy myself for a moment and leave.

A sweet, sticky rapture. A strange, sensual feeling spread through my whole body. Blood boiled so hard I barely held back a moan. This was bad. Lately it was getting harder and harder to restrain myself.

A perfect donation arrived right on cue. The attachment was a video of a man being strangled between a woman’s thighs. The tight focus on the space between the legs looked pretty niche. Not really my taste, but… fine. I liked it. Dying that way would stick in the memory for a long time. And I was already in a pretty good mood.

“You heard the man. A hundred thousand is serious money. Gotta honor the request.”

“Hey, you little bi— mmpf, mmmmph!”

“Oh, is this how you do it? Guess I’ve got talent.”

I climbed onto BoozeBun’s shoulders and wrapped my right leg around his neck. Pulling my ankle tight with both hands let me properly crush his windpipe. In reality he was still breathing just fine, but his character’s face went pale as if he were truly choking. The way he thrashed trying to free himself was so lively and entertaining that a laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

“Ahah. Ahahahah…”

“Ghk— you little… bi… kkhh!”

The warrior’s hands clawed desperately at my thighs or ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tried to flip his whole body using the size difference. But this was inside the game. I wasn’t just some fragile girl. Even with a solid strength gap, he couldn’t pry me loose. In the end every struggle was meaningless. All it did was burn those ugly, ridiculous thrashings into my eyes. At last BoozeBun’s body went limp, and a system message rose into my vision like a reward.

“Ahaha… I’m losing it. That’s too funny. So you can die like that too?”

BoozeBun’s chat, of course, detonated. Some people mocked the ridiculous death; quite a few others shifted their attention to me. Apparently my chest had been pretty blatantly on display while I was finishing him. A normal female streamer would have been bothered by those reactions. But I didn’t stream, and my identity as a man was still stronger. What I hated was pity that looked at me like some poor little girl. Just staring at my chest didn’t particularly disgust me. So what if a bit of flesh showed? Back when I worked out hard I used to walk around shirtless all the time—why would a pair of female breasts be so special? The old me and the current me were the same person. Just because the body changed didn’t mean my chest suddenly gained some grand value. I usually bind them tight, so maybe that makes them look even more lewd? In that case… tch. Feeling good was making my mind wander in all sorts of directions.

Anyway, this really was a well-made game. Turns out you could kill a character just by keeping them from breathing long enough. I’d been ready to simply stab him in the head with a dagger if it didn’t work. Glad I learned something useful. If methods like this were possible, there were plenty of things worth trying. For the first time in a while, my brain started spinning at full speed.

Who should I try next?