Debut

It was several days before Michael finally managed to upload the video. As a modern man, he knew full well how critical speed was in this game—yet every single time he tried to post it, the upload was blocked.

Damn it, why the hell is this happening?

A revenue freeze would have been one thing, but an outright upload ban was something even he had rarely experienced. (What he did not know was that the CIA and NSA were monitoring his account in real time and deliberately locking every attempt.)

His video contained nothing that even remotely suggested gore or child exploitation, so he could only sit there sucking his fingers in bewildered frustration—until, at last, the ban lifted. Michael wasted no time slamming the upload button.

"Please blow up. Please…"

Of course, simply getting the video online was not the end. It still needed the algorithm's blessing. Every day, MeTube received roughly 720,000 hours of new content—more than eighty-two years of continuous watching. Even a creator with millions of subscribers like Michael could vanish without a trace if the algorithm ignored him.

Given the subject matter, he was confident the algorithm would take notice… yet the fact that the upload itself had been impossible until moments ago made him feel the invisible hand of sabotage on his skin.

Fortunately—

"It's live!"

The video detonated. Within three hours, more than half his subscriber base had already watched it. That virtually guaranteed a spot on Today's Trending, which would only pull in even more clicks.

Viewer reactions were not bad either.

The thumbnail alone—featuring a beauty who resembled the elves of As that had appeared on television, yet was so overwhelmingly more stunning that comparison felt almost insulting (her towering height being the only minor flaw)—was enough to seize attention.

On top of that, no Earth broadcaster had ever captured an As ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠native this intimately. That exclusivity yanked viewers toward Michael's channel even faster.

For a brief window it was humanity's sole, Earth-exclusive footage. A quick glance already revealed analysis edits and outright stolen Shorts flooding the platform.

With numbers climbing at that velocity, the purely mechanical algorithm had no choice but to crown the video.

And so—

"SSSuuuuuuuu!!"

The golden age that had never once visited his life had finally arrived.

The reason Michael's video had been blocked was simple: the CIA and NSA did not want to risk displeasing Astria.

The reason it was finally allowed to go up was exactly the same—so as not to displease Astria.

"About that video I was filmed in… when exactly will it be uploaded?"

That single question set the entire U.S. government in motion. While trying to predict when some random MeTuber would finish editing and why the video still had not appeared, they discovered the intelligence agencies' interference.

The fact that national agencies had been babysitting a single MeTuber was reported straight to the President.

"I told you to stop spies, and you're surveilling some random MeTuber?"

"…He was connected to Codename D, so—"

"You're calling that an excuse?!"

President Ronald immediately summoned the directors of both agencies and tore into them. The directors bowed their heads, promised it would never happen again, and only after a verbal thrashing were they allowed to leave the Oval Office.

All of it was pure WWE. Ronald had no real intention of punishing the two men. Why discipline agents who had only been trying to keep Astria's existence under wraps?

But the world does ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not run on pure reason. Somewhere out there, politicians still drive onto sidewalks when the road is blocked. If actions taken for Astria's sake had ended up irritating her instead, a little public scolding was the least they could do.

"That should keep them quiet for a while…"

So Ronald thought—until the very next day, when a report landed on his desk that Astria wanted to start a MeTube channel.

"I wish to do MeTube."

"Pardon? Ah—I'll, uh, seek permission from above."

"Permission? Must this body seek permission before acting?"

At those words the agent realized her blunder and broke out in a cold sweat. I simply stared at her in silence.

I was only asking out of genuine curiosity…

It felt too awkward to explain my true intent now, so I simply walked away. A soft thud of someone collapsing reached my ears from behind. Only after confirming that nearby agents rushed over to support her did I relax and begin researching what one needed to start filming videos.

Then a portly middle-aged man came running up, drenched in sweat, and skidded to a halt in front of me.

"Hah—huff—M-Miss Astria. I hear you intend to start MeTube?"

"Mm. That is so."

"I-I see. Just out of curiosity… what sort of content were you thinking of?"

I answered with a broad grin.

"Naturally I must follow the current trends. From what I can see, the top MeTubers gift people houses, islands, cars, airplanes and the like. I could do something similar, could I not?"

"Similar… meaning?"

"Something like this."

As luck would have it, the MeTuber who had filmed me had just uploaded a new video—one of him shooting a beam from his finger. People seemed to think it was high-quality CG, but I knew better.

And the middle-aged man before me apparently recognized it as well; he began frantically mopping the sweat pouring down his forehead with a handkerchief.

"Th-this is…?"

"Worry not. I did not teach him magic."

"Th-thank goodness. So it's CG?"

"No. It is magic."

"…Did you not just say you did not teach him?"

The way he looked at me made it clear he was beginning to wonder if I suffered from dementia. I simply conjured another Mystery Orb—the same one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I had shown the MeTuber not long ago.

Seeing the sphere swirling with brilliant, multicolored light, the man took a cautious step backward.

"W-what is that?"

"Think of it as something akin to a magic circuit. A human who accepts it can expend their own mana to cast magic. If they have no mana, it consumes calories instead."

"Then… there's no need to learn magic at all?"

"Nonsense. Just because smartphones exist does not mean semiconductor departments vanish. Creating and advancing these things remains the duty of mages. And besides—"

With a flick of my wrist I tossed the orb at him. He flinched as though it were radioactive and tried to dodge, but the sphere struck his body regardless.

Moments later his eyes flew wide as he trembled at the superhuman power now flowing through him.

"Wh-whoa—"

"Wipe your sweat."

"Th-this is…"

A moment later the handkerchief in his hand began to dry itself fluffy and soft, complete with the fresh scent of laundry dried in the sun.

What I had gifted him was the magic of "drying a handkerchief until it is soft and fluffy." It could not be used on anything larger than a handkerchief, nor on living beings—mere Everyday Magic. Yet even that would be an extraordinarily convenient technology for the people of Earth.

"In principle it can only cast the magic that has been pre-set. Think of it as a machine with a fixed purpose… it cannot compare to a mage who has truly learned magic."

Originally this was a spell meant to be cast directly upon tools. In As it could not be used on living creatures, yet Earth's humans—lacking mana—apparently registered as tools…

I closed my mouth before I could mention such a trivial detail and risk giving him an unnecessary shock, then carefully regarded the man.

"This should make for sufficient content, no?"

"…O-of course."

"My thanks. Ah, by the way."

Having finished speaking, I watched the middle-aged man continue casting the spell over and over, fascinated by how soft his handkerchief became, and asked:

"Who are you, exactly?"

"You gave me this without even knowing…?"

I learned only later—

The man was the United States Secretary of Homeland Security.