Golden Butterfly Hell

Raid Gate Two, commonly known as Golden Butterfly Hell. Unlike the straightforward first gate, the second one was loaded with coordination mechanics that stuck together like glue, earning it the nickname guerrilla training from players.

Whew. Just like before… let's do this.

The game company probably designed the mechanics to test coordination and teamwork, but it produced the exact opposite effect. Players grew to distrust and despise their fellow humans thanks to all the fake-it-till-you-make-it veterans, learning the hard lesson that the only person you could truly trust was yourself.

"Yes, understood."

I had every pattern for the second gate memorized, of course, but the fear of screwing up had been weighing on me. Now my shoulders felt a lot lighter.

The moment we entered the second gate, a swarm of golden butterflies momentarily blocked our view, and then the boss appeared. Dirty fur wrapped around its neck, golden wings, antennae that doubled as tentacles, and a mouth lined with sharp teeth in several places. It looked far closer to a moth than a butterfly. Calling it a butterfly felt impossible.

A few viewers were clearly in pain. That was how repulsive the boss looked.

The golden butterflies scattered powder through the air.

This is seriously fucked…!

The most annoying thing about this creature was that it started the fight by throwing out debuffs. Once hit, your health slowly drained and your movement speed dropped. And that wasn't the end of it—the longer the fight dragged on, the more the stacks built up and the stronger the effects became. Even with the Priest's debuff removal skill, you had to time it perfectly to avoid max stacks, which made this absolute hell for the support players.

Right after, the boss pulled out its tentacles and swung them toward us. Every raider dodged them cleanly.

"Yes."

At max stacks your health would plummet and your body would freeze completely. As a squishy mage, that was something I absolutely had to avoid.

The first mechanic appeared. Eight circles formed across the field.

We each moved clockwise according to our party order. I took position on circle six. The boss's tentacle antennae rose higher and higher into the sky, splitting into multiple branches before attacking everywhere except the safe circles.

The fight wasn't over yet. As soon as the tentacle attack ended, the boss immediately triggered the next phase.

Eggs began spawning across the field. Thirty-second time limit. The countdown appeared. Every raider unloaded their skills onto the eggs.

This is going to be tight…!

If we failed to destroy the eggs, the golden butterflies would double in number and the pollen stacks would build up twice as fast. Fortunately we destroyed every last egg with three seconds to spare.

Was this the rage of a mother who had just witnessed her children die? If this mechanic was cleared safely, the monster's critical damage, critical rate, and attack speed would skyrocket to ridiculous levels.

The viewers' reactions were heated. That made sense—this pattern could two-shot even Warriors running full tanker skill sets.

Max-stack victims were calling for the Priest from every direction. The Priest responded immediately, rapidly clearing the debuffs with well-timed skills. After that we dodged the minor patterns and other mechanics while squeezing in damage. Eventually the stun gauge beneath the boss's health bar emptied. The moth lost strength and sank to the ground.

At the raid leader's command the Priest cast a damage buff while the rest of us, myself included, chugged the potions we'd brought. We dumped every skill we had into the boss. Its health bar plummeted. We couldn't miss this window. If we failed to finish it now, the boss would recover half its health and we'd have to do the mechanics all over again.

What…?

The words "max stacks" made me flinch. Hadn't the debuff just been cleared? The ones at max stacks were the Fighter and Warrior from Party One who'd already been hit multiple times during the minor patterns. The Priests had just cleared everyone else's debuffs, so their skill cooldowns definitely weren't ready yet.

The damage is gonna be way too low now…!

Two people had already died. No matter how strong the mage's damage was, covering for two or even three people was impossible.

"Ah, shit…!"

Okay. Calm down…

People make mistakes. We could always pump out the damage again. As time passed and we forced every bit of DPS we could, the boss's stun gauge dropped faster than before. Since there were no revives on the second attempt, we could focus purely on damage. Then came the final zero-line pattern—one of the most frustrating mechanics for raid players. Fail it and everyone would die to the wipe skill, forcing a full restart.

With the raid leader's warning, the final desperate pattern began. Red and blue circles appeared across the field. Odd numbers had to stand on blue, even numbers on red. Since I was even, I quickly moved to a red circle. The entire raid team took positions in the cardinal directions. Two people were already dead so two spots were empty, but we could manage that much.

Cocoons began sprouting from the circles.

Those on red moved right to destroy the cocoons on blue circles, while those on blue moved in the same direction to destroy the cocoons on the inner red circles. We were doing well until someone made a mistake.

The Paladin, who had kept his mic off until now, turned it on. Just from his voice you could tell his throat was in bad shape. But the real problem came afterward. While the Paladin's cocoon was still alive, the Warrior next to him stepped outside the circle.

Maybe because we had failed, the boss's wing-flapping looked like it was mocking us. Then—boom. The wipe skill detonated and the party was wiped.

Whew. Just endure it…

I couldn't get angry at the Paladin who had invited me. Besides, we still had plenty of time left. Wasn't failing like this part of the fun of raiding? It's not like I get to raid often. I should treat every attempt as valuable experience.

But that resolve crumbled in less than an hour.

. . .

Before we knew it, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stream had been running for three hours and no matter how many times we tried, we simply could not clear the second gate. There were many reasons. Sometimes too many people hit max stacks and died, leaving our damage lacking. Other times we made it all the way to the final mechanic only to fail just like before. The reasons were varied.

Of course the failures themselves didn't make me angry. The problem was the massive effect they had. The raiders' motivation and concentration were dropping, and now we were hitting physical limits too. And above all that, there was one final problem that overshadowed everything else.

Everyone had grown extremely sensitive. The raid atmosphere turned toxic and fights broke out.

The insults quickly escalated into vicious mother-related attacks.

"Then maybe I should go fuck your mom and send you the video, you piece of shit!"

"I'll fuck your mom, record it, and show it to you, asshole!"

The viewers had been amused by the unexpected fight at first, but the constant repetition was starting to make them sick.

The raid leader tried his best to mediate, but he clearly didn't realize his words weren't reaching the two fighters at all.

Instead of calming things down, he had only poured fuel on the fire.

"Th-that's…!"

The Thief was gradually losing ground. Then he suddenly started looking around for someone else to blame.

"……?"

The target of the conversation had suddenly changed. The arrows of blame now flew toward the Paladin.

"……."

It was a lie. The Paladin had only made three mistakes total—far fewer than the other two.

The Fighter and Priest—who had died the most after the Thief and Warrior—began agreeing with the Thief.

Haa… this isn't ending anytime soon.

The fight showed no signs of stopping and my eyes were growing heavier by the second.

Maybe I should take a quick nap…

Just as I leaned forward to rest, I heard my name.

My eyes snapped open. Suddenly, me?