The Frontier (3)

The horn felt substantial in my hand. The cut face was clean, and the tip looked sharp enough to draw blood at a touch.

Sulbbang, examining the horn beside me, reached the same conclusion I had.

"This… kinda looks like a quest item, doesn't it?"

Throughout our exploration, we hadn't bothered dodging the monsters that blocked our path. Learning a monster's drop table could always turn into an opportunity later. So even when it was a hassle, we killed everything we ran into — as long as there weren't too many. Dying by accident would have made the whole effort pointless, after all.

Anyway, the item we'd picked up hunting like that was this Suspicious Horn. The shop sell price was set far too high for an ordinary material. The name itself was blatant, and the usage field still read "Unknown." My gamer's instincts lit up with a hard green light. Whatever this was, we were heading in the direction of a delicious reward.

"Think a siege war's opening up?"

"There's a chance. If so, we'll have to push the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠recorded footage even further back."

The first siege war on the new continent of Zephyrion was scheduled for a month from now. But you couldn't wage war on land that hadn't even been pioneered yet. Certain conditions had to be met before a siege war could unlock, and those conditions varied wildly by region — everything from simply killing a field boss to clearing a long, narrative-grade quest. The big quest-type conditions usually sat toward the center of a continent. We were out on the periphery, so dungeon exploration or a boss kill was the more likely path.

That said, Sulbbang's comment had sparked a question.

"Hey, roughly how much do you make from videos?"

"In my case, streaming's the main thing, so not much. On average, about this much a month?"

"Ah, I see."

A number written in the dirt, then wiped away. For something he called "not much," it was a pretty solid amount. Then again, Sulbbang wasn't exactly a small-time streamer.

"Video content is Se-rin's specialty, so ask her later."

Where Sulbbang put most of his weight on live streams, Elderin split more evenly between videos and broadcasts. That was why the second prelims had been cast on Sulbbang's stream, while the edited highlight reels went up on Elderin's channel.

It struck me again how little I still knew about streaming. Maybe that was only natural. I'd watched a lot of it, but I'd never done it myself. Even I wasn't shameless enough to count barging into someone else's stream as an actual "appearance."

I'd once held vague dreams about becoming a pro gamer or a streamer. When those ambitions fell through, I'd started PK'ing instead — and yet, looking back, had I really prepared for any of it at all?

Someday. Truly, someday. Maybe a little light would fall my way too.

I must have been fretting more visibly than I thought, because Sulbbang snickered and clapped me on the shoulder.

"What, you getting interested in streaming?"

"…A little."

What does he know about what I'm going through. No — wait. If he actually knew, that might be even more awkward.

"Then try guesting on a few streams. You could pull that off now. Nobody's invited you?"

"They have, but guest spots are one-offs. Does it even mean anything?"

"Of course it does. What are you even talking about?"

After winning the Arena, a number of streamers had naturally reached out with collab offers. I'd turned them down — half of my own will, half not. The popularity I had now was a single flash of light. The reality that I still couldn't stream hadn't changed at all. I couldn't shake the fear that soaking in a half-baked dream would only snuff out whatever curiosity people still had about me.

But Sulbbang brushed my worries aside like they were nothing, speaking as if he were stating the obvious.

"For one thing, you get to figure out what kind of stream actually suits you. Just look at me and Elderin — our audiences are completely different. Appear on both and you'll see which viewers you click with better. Cuts down on a lot of failure either way."

"Ah…!"

"You're always densest in the weirdest places. If you need anything, just say the word. I'll help however I can."

"Th-thanks."

I found myself looking at Sulbbang in a new light. Back at the offline meetup, I'd thought something along the lines of guy looks normal enough, but he's weirdly shy. I felt bad for having been so uncharitable. Thinking back to karaoke — he'd sat next to me, too nervous to even sing properly, fidgeting the whole time. I'd felt sorry enough to duet with him, and when it was his turn I'd even played the tambourine. He'd stared at me for a long time after that, like he was grateful.

But so what if a person was a little shy? A good heart was enough.

Well done, Sulbbang!

"Alright. I'll take you up on that later."

I had no idea then that "later" would turn out to be only a few hours away.

Our efforts paid off. We hunted the minotaurs that littered the area, fled when too many piled on, and scoured the whole region until we finally found a dungeon tucked into a corner. Just as I'd predicted, the Suspicious Horn served as the entry key.

Then one problem came up.

Of all things, it was a dungeon with a time restriction. By the time we found it, morning was just breaking. Factoring in a meetup with the rest of the party, moving any further felt awkward. I was considering a short rest when Sulbbang decided this was the perfect chance to go live — settle somewhere decent and our location wouldn't show, so it might as well be practice for me.

I couldn't refuse. The moment I nodded, half in a daze, a notification chimed.

The viewer count began climbing almost immediately. I sat stiff and awkward, watching the chat scroll by. I drew a deep breath, then let it out. Good. At least this time I wasn't shaking the way I had before. Maybe the Arena streams had gotten me a little used to it.

"Yes, yes. Hello, everyone. Nothing special planned today — just got Ga-wol sitting next to me."

While Sulbbang got the stream sorted, I kept watching the chat. Most of the people here already knew who I was. Part of that was the Arena win boosting my name recognition, but I'd also crashed Sulbbang's stream more than a few times — mostly to kill him, admittedly. Either way, I wasn't a complete stranger. A few of the nicknames even looked vaguely familiar.

The donation video was the one of me choking Sulbbang out with my legs. The sender looked like the same guy from back then. I couldn't remember for sure, but it was probably him.

Beside me, Sulbbang watched the clip and exploded.

"Hey, we're in the same party now! I invited you as a guest — you can't just kill me. Right?"

"Well, if someone asks for an encore, I could do it again. Just without the killing part."

"Yeah. An encore— wait, what?"

"I can't just pocket a precious donation and do nothing. Money matters. That person spent hard-earned cash on this."

"Where does that uselessly ironclad work ethic even come from?"

Rude. If you take the money, you do the work. That had been my iron rule ever since I started gaming — no, ever since I'd been alive. Kendo had only relatively recently been classified as an elite sport, and the only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reason athletes could make a living at all was taxes and fan support. If you took the money, you owed at least the bare minimum of professionalism. And if your ability fell short, you still had to give it everything you had. That was how I'd been raised.

"Anyway, today I'm just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hanging out with Ga-wol for some light chat. Any donations aimed at Ga-wol get passed straight over, so if you've got questions, fire away."

The second Sulbbang finished speaking, the chat went completely feral. Maybe it was the nature of a personal stream. These people really did dig straight into whatever they were curious about. Our party members deliberately avoided asking this kind of thing.

Still, this much was fine. I'd answer while drawing a reasonable line.

"I did train athletically, yes, but I don't anymore. Whether I was a pro is a secret. And just so we're clear up front — I'm not taking any sword-dance questions."

The questions were coming in faster than I'd expected. The donation amounts were chunky enough to be genuinely startling. But money was money. Anything I could answer, I would.

"No face reveal planned for the time being. And by practice, you mean in-game, right? How I do it… hmm."

I was starting to enjoy this a little. Anything about my personal life got a pass, but there was one solid question in the mix, and that lit a spark of motivation. A character's physical strength got heavy correction from stats, but controlling that strength still came down to the player. Balance, posture, body control — those had to be trained for real. And back in my competitive days, I'd seen a form of practice that worked perfectly for situations like this.

Showing them directly would probably be better, right? The ground here was flat enough for a demonstration, too.

"Have any of you ever watched artistic gymnastics?"