The Dawn of the Two Five-Stars Era
I'd figured there wasn't much left in the level 11 bracket that would actually bump my specs. That was part of why I'd been meaning to light up my fourth star a little early—though shutting the viewers' mouths had been the bigger reason. I never expected to land a power-up even larger than that.
"A hundred percent skill damage..."
Mana options had never held much appeal for me anyway. They helped when I was slinging a lot of skills, and grabbing them as item stats wasn't exactly a bad idea, but that was the extent of it. If mana ran a little tighter and skill damage climbed in exchange, though, I had no reason to refuse.
Mana, bought with money.
An idea ordinary users couldn't even entertain. For me, it was perfectly possible. A spec-up that worked for me alone, because it worked for no one else.
"Heh heh."
I was looking forward to it more by the second.
The Slime King. That was where I'd make a flashy debut into the level 11 bracket.
It had been a while, so I ordered chicken and beer.
"One spicy glazed, one soy garlic, and a draft beer, please."
I dropped onto a sofa as soft as the bed, and by the time I came back from the shower the chicken and beer were already laid out. I drank and watched TV. Time in Haven was nice, but cracking a drink open after a stream had become one of life's little pleasures lately.
"Gotta say, having a steward around is pretty great."
I lived alone, and still there was a steward who had the whole room set by the time I finished washing. I tore into a drumstick and took a long pull.
"Kyah~"
Then I turned a stream on. Not mine—the list of users broadcasting Haven Online.
"Let's see who's suffering today."
My own broadcasts were fun, but once I'd started streaming, watching other people on my days off had become its own entertainment. Enough that I finally understood why viewers showed up every single day for a host with no gift for talking.
Lately—only the past few days, really—the word I searched when I was resting was gacha.
"Lot of class pulls."
Was that my influence? Class-pull streams had been drawing unusually big crowds. A few hundred viewers as a baseline, and anyone who looked like they spent real money climbed into the thousands. Plenty of streamers were running class pulls just to chase that audience, of course, but viewers almost never stuck. Five-stars. The ones gunning for a five-star were the popular ones.
"Yeesh. This really isn't something a human being should be doing."
What did it look like from a third party's seat? Curious, I'd favorited a handful of streamers over the last few days and had been dropping in to watch.
"Fuck! When is this thing gonna drop!"
"Heh heh heh."
The streamer's voice, thick with rage, pulled a laugh out of me on its own. I knew that helplessness. For me it hadn't been the dread of money pouring out so much as the dread of not knowing when it would hit—but still. For ordinary people, slamming a hundred thousand won into the void every single second, with no idea if it would ever pay off, could never be easy.
"Even so, everyone—I'm taking the challenge. I'm a man who finishes what he starts! I brought plenty of ammo, so I'm going until I pull it!"
"Well, well. Impressive."
I was curious too. People said I was on the lucky side, and as I remembered it, mine had cost about 3.2 billion won. How much would someone else need? Was my luck average? Actually good? In a spirit of support, I opened the donation window.
"Aigo! Dragon Mage hyung! That's ten pulls! Thank you!"
"Gasp! No way—is it actually Kim Siwoo? Siwoo, the man I respect?!"
"Ah. You think so? Haha... yeah, fair... our idol Siwoo must be busy."
"A hundred million! I really hope he drops by just once."
They were entertaining themselves just fine, so I watched, pleased, and didn't say a word. I hadn't been able to stream for a while, but I was a seasoned attention hound from the big corporate broadcasts aimed at women. I knew by instinct exactly how to play a moment like this.
"DragonWurdsMage... Wurds hyung... is it really you? No, wait. Even if you're a knockoff, I don't mind. In my heart, DragonWurdsMage already outranks DragonWordsMage!"
He rolled a class pull at once. Same gacha as mine, but the method was a little different.
"Here it goes. Here it goes! Here it goes! It's rolliiiiing!"
He rolled one, despaired, then spent forever explaining the class all over again.
"This class is D-grade.... It's not even the tank I want. I should roll it again, right?"
It was a little frustrating. Eating chicken to it, the tempo dragged. I hopped to another room.
The room title was the same as the one I'd used when I started. The only addition was the amount spent, stuck on beside it.
"Wow. This guy's spending a fortune."
Ruin Run sounded grand. In practice it wasn't easy. Pour in more than three billion and still miss, and every last coin was gone. The reason that two years on, besides me, only four five-star users had ever appeared—that hadn't changed one bit. If you could at least save your progress, if you could stash even a single four-star, the rich would have whaled their way to five-stars without a second thought.
"Alright. Today I'm stopping at five hundred million, flat."
I'd never seen the streamer before, but the viewer count was solid, and he seemed to have been playing Haven for a long time.
"Whoa."
Hearing the viewers explain it for him, I realized he was a bigger deal than I'd thought. At this point, rankers weren't simply users with money. They were people who had melted two years into Haven. The money sunk in was money, sure—but nobody gives you the time back. And he'd thrown it away without flinching.
"I'm pulling a five-star no matter what. A mage would be ideal, if I get a say. I'll smash that Dragon Words Mage to pieces. Kahaha!"
"A five-star's a five-star. Throw enough money at it and they're all the same. Come on, everyone. My assets went public, right? Two years in the trenches, pay efficiently, and you'll blow past Dragon Words or whatever-you-call-it in no time."
"Oho."
In a way, it was a first. Someone throwing down a challenge at me since I'd started Haven. Not directly, of course. It was never going to be nobody at all. It was kind of fun, too. But the heat rising in my chest told me I was still a hot-blooded kid after all. I was sure I wouldn't lose. Part of me even hoped he would show up.
What was it, exactly? My own pride. Maybe I wanted to show I had room to spare. Honestly, confidence that I wouldn't lose was the one thing I had in abundance. Probably nobody could beat me. No matter how much money they had, no matter how good their luck.
How do you beat four hundred ninety quadrillion won?
The viewers buzzed. The streamer running the broadcast startled, then accepted my provocation without missing a beat.
"Oh. Mr. Kim Siwoo. Is that really you? A hundred million says it probably is. Mind waiting just a little? I'll pull a five-star and come take that spot. Pray it's some other class while you're at it. The next number-one mage seat is mine."
He really did have money. Even staring down a hundred-million-won donation, he said everything he meant to say. Hearing it only made me look forward to it more.
"He actually might pull one."
Haven, which had been feeling a bit like a single-player game, might be about to get its pulse back. Wasn't that what games were? Running alone was fun. Stomping everything in sight was fun. But so was the sight of someone chasing you from behind, and someone else ahead—throwing every last thing they had at a goal sitting overwhelmingly far in front of them, thrashing forward on nothing but the will to take it. That was part of the fun of playing, too.
"Go on, then. Pull one."
If he could.
The chicken had cooled a little, but it made such a moreish snack that the drinks went down in easy gulps. I finished it off, pleasantly buzzed, and still didn't head for bed. I watched another three hours. The five-star never showed.