Chapter 2
Chapter 2
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Advice Gets You Banned
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Streamer, Yura.
Three years in the broadcasting business.
In a world where countless streamers were born and vanished every single day,
she had carved out her own fame with her unique wit and ghostly instinct for camera angles.
Yura was a streamer who proudly held her ground.
In an industry where most faded without even leaving a name behind, she had survived long enough to at least etch hers into the books—even if it meant dying with that much skin left.
And survival meant strength.
Strength meant overcoming countless hardships.
Yura had been scammed by viewers, tormented by excessive hate comments, and caught in false rumors, among other trials.
Thanks to that, her big data now included info on malicious viewers.
When she first started, Yura thought the worst offenders were the ones spewing curses.
But no.
The real villains were the ones who tried to puppeteer the streamer to their whims.
The so-called Rat Shake viewers.
Yura caught a whiff of Rat Shake from the viewer giving missions and unsolicited advice.
The most vicious kind of Rat Shake, at that.
Rat Shakes had levels.
The basic ones who posted comments to sway public opinion.
And then...
The worse ones who shook things up with money.
The latter were more toxic for one simple reason.
They gave money.
What can you say? They dished out the abuse but tossed in cash, too.
Like handing you a bottle of poison and then the antidote.
"Argh! If it's so easy to say, why don't you try it, viewer! This is hard!"
Three monsters stood before Yura.
Bulging muscles. Green skin. Long, tusklike fangs jutting up.
Orcs.
Even scorched by fire, orcs were orcs.
With their signature tough vitality, they advanced clubs in hand.
And for a level 21 mage, close-range orcs were extremely dangerous.
Yura felt the Rat Shake vibe from the advice-giving viewer but responded anyway.
It wasn't full-on Rat Shake yet.
And the viewers were enjoying it, so a bit more banter was in order.
Even if it was a toxic Armchair Advisor, Yura would deal with the devil for the stream.
"Hmm... If she does that there, she won't take down the orc..."
Crunch.
A salty tang filled my mouth.
Pure white, round snack.
The essential munchie for watching videos or streams.
Potato chips.
What?
Popcorn?
I don't do popcorn.
I stick purely to potato chips.
Popcorn is heresy to me.
Hmm...
No heretics who like popcorn here, right?
I couldn't hold back the sudden curiosity.
Hold it in, and you'll get sick.
As the name implies, internet streaming is internet-based.
Real-time comments meant quick feedback and tons of opinions.
Brutal.
So many heretics in the world.
OH! Potato—what even was that?
Wasn't that just flour lumps, not potatoes?
As a last hope, I looked to Yura.
You.
You would get it.
Not the popcorn heresy.
You'd know the glory of potato chips.
I trusted her usual snack was Pocket Chips.
Not pure potato chips, but close enough.
You would...!
[For fight-watching? Popcorn's best for that.]
My hopes shattered miserably.
The world...
The whole world...
Full of heretics...
This won't do...
A horrific world.
And then.
[Kyaaak! What the heck?!]
Watching her get smacked by an orc made it worse.
Why stand there like a pole and take the hit?
Mages need solid footwork basics.
Blind swings kill easy.
Not my personal opinion.
Back in my hero days, I asked my party mage buddy.
-Hey, what's the key to being a mage?
-Footwork?
-Bullshit. Magic.
-You bastard.
Dumbass mage who sucked at magic but had the sage title, so he knew his stuff.
So, here's the truth.
Mages need footwork.
Footwork.
I gave Yura that simple wisdom.
[Footwork can go die...! Can't you see I'm about to get pummeled by orcs?!]
What a response.
Doesn't know this basic truth.
Aaah, you're no mage.
Confirmed.
The three years clinging to broadcasting had toughened Yura through every ordeal.
'Even had a manager skim my payouts once.'
Even absurd embezzlement of platform settlements.
Her mentality grew steel-strong every moment.
Now she boasted tougher than any steel—titanium plating over her face, not iron.
So...
This was nothing.
"No! Uwaaaah!!! My fifty grand!!!!"
I slammed the desk extra hard for effect.
A message popped in the corner of the screen.
Fifty grand gone before my eyes.
Climbed seven floors of the tower, but failed to reach ten.
'Fifty grand stings, but now's the time to snag a Miss Clip Angle.'
Like they say, an egg over a pheasant.
Yura ditched the fifty-grand mission quick and pulled a Miss Clip Angle.
People remember failures more than wins.
Slap on an aggro title, edit it clickbaity for Mityube, done.
This was why she turned what would've been a simple 'damn it' into desk-slamming rage.
Viewers' reactions were solid.
They loved the fail more.
Pro as ever, Yura milked the broadcast angle even amid the chaos.
'This is enough—can end today's stream.'
Planned longer, but scored good content.
One quick Ranking Match then log off.
"Everyone, last game for real this time, then I'm out."
Feigning reluctance.
Acting for the stream, she nailed the End Broadcast Angle.
Tell the editor to cut this part, send the footage—smooth sailing into the final game.
Same mission as before.
From the same persistent viewer.
Tempting for another go?
She shook it off inwardly.
Already did End Broadcast Angle, and the amount dropped.
Unaware of the potato chip heresy drama costing a zero, she wouldn't fold for 50k.
"Thanks for the 10k. But another try's tough."
"As I said, just one PVP then done."
Quick Ranking Match queued.
Even in 1v1, Yura kept chatting with viewers.
Mission again.
One or two's fine.
Third time's Brain Snap.
Now I see—same advice-spamming viewer.
Rat Shake vibes.
Viewers' missions getting tougher lately—time for an example.
"Viewer."
Yura moved her finger.
"Read the broadcast rules again. First offense, so 24-hour ban."
"Ah..."
Dropped my potato chip.
Crunch!
It hit the floor, crumbling to dust.
But something worse happened.
[This broadcast is banned for 24 hours.]
My little dopamine den... blocked.