The Sole Survivor and the Chatroom Catastrophe
The taut balance that had held the arena of Solitude together finally snapped in a single instant. The moment the young girl—who had been the focal point of everyone’s wariness and the reason for their forced standoff—collapsed, the tacit agreement that bound them in uneasy cooperation shattered.
With their common target gone, someone drove a blade into the back of the person they had fought alongside only moments before. That was how the pandemonium began. These were people already spent from the previous battle. In a situation where the first surprise attack mattered far more than martial realm, there was no chance they could endure for long.
One by one, the participants of Solitude followed the very people they had killed. Fewer people meant fewer threats to watch, which in turn meant they could focus entirely on slaying the enemy before them. As time passed, the frequency of blood spraying through the arena only increased.
Baek Hwaryeong watched it all with an expressionless face. The elders let their regret show as those they had favored fell. And every time another body crumpled to the ground, Seol-ah’s shoulders twitched.
The viewers of my stream were far too busy laughing and chatting among themselves to care about the solemn atmosphere of Solitude. The contrast between the grim ritual and the chatroom descending into pure chaos was so ridiculous that I found myself chuckling inwardly. Before I knew it, the Solitude had reached its end.
The final survivor was a man with a rigid, stony demeanor. Breathing hard, he examined the opponent he had just felled, confirmed the kill, and let his weapon drop from his hand. Then he slowly looked around, taking in the sight of every corpse one by one.
Hmm. The one who survived this time has quite the decent character.
Most survivors usually didn’t spare a single thought for the dead and simply cheered in triumph. This man, however, etched the face of the once-vibrant young girl into his memory before stepping forward and kneeling.
Baek Hwaryeong rose from her seat, leaped down lightly, and stood before him.
Baek Hwaryeong placed her hand atop the man’s head and once again released her energy. The formations installed throughout the building began to move again. I knew exactly what they did. They gathered the energy of everyone who had died inside Solitude and offered it to the final survivor.
Having been the one to perform this ritual for over a decade after ascending to the position of Heavenly Demon, I naturally understood its purpose. Even so, I had never known the exact principles behind the formation. I had simply been a puppet carrying out the procedure.
Yet even the current, lacking version of myself could tell one thing clearly. This resembles the Blood Cult’s techniques. It wasn’t simply similar in effect. The way the energy moved was nearly identical. Because it lacked the Blood Cult’s characteristic damp, viscous aura, I had once believed it was merely similar but ultimately different. But no. It was the exact opposite. It only appeared different; at its core, it was the same.
Of course, this was merely the view of an outsider. Baru might have an entirely different opinion. Still—
“Right. He did.”
Lost in thought, I unconsciously distributed the points when the donation alert sounded.
“Hm? What is this? Why are you all acting like that?”
The chatroom had suddenly exploded, leaving me blinking in confusion when another donation alert arrived.
I looked back at the man still kneeling before Baek Hwaryeong.
“Ah.”
That’s right. When I had referred to him earlier, I had written “stiff-looking man.”
Watching the chat speed by at a rate incomparable to before, my hand naturally drifted toward my long pipe. This was bad. I had just given a perfect excuse to light a fire under people who already loved setting the world ablaze.
Judging by the way they were carrying on, it seemed the idea that points were merely intangible currency with no real value would not fly. That wasn’t what they cared about. What the viewers wanted was for me to acknowledge my mistake and receive suitable punishment. That punishment would probably involve me struggling on stream while they laughed at my suffering.
Damn them.
If they gained something thanks to me, they should be standing in front of me acting as shields! Why were they hiding in the back and only taking the profit? Come out here and fight the mob attacking me!
When I shouted that, a few brave souls actually jumped in and began spamming the chat, pushing back the angry messages. Those who had lost points fought back with their own spam. I watched the chatroom that had now completely abandoned any pretense of communicating with me, exhaled a puff of smoke from my pipe, and looked away.
For now, I would wait until they calmed down. Conversation required both sides to actually listen. How could any dialogue form if they were simply shouting their own thoughts? This fiery chaos wouldn’t last for hours anyway.
Since it was true that I had made a mistake, I needed to think of a way to soothe their hearts while the flames died down. Hmm. Should I send Enry a message asking for advice in advance?
By the time I extracted myself from the uproar, the Solitude ritual had already concluded. The man who had survived until the end was meditating to stabilize the energy he had gained, and Baek Hwaryeong and the elders remained in place to watch over him.
My business here was truly finished. It was time to leave. The frustration piled up in my chest needed to be unleashed on the Blood Cult.
“Seol-ah.”
When I called her name, Seol-ah responded a beat late and turned her head.
“Wait.”
Even though I had said we were leaving, Seol-ah did not stand.
“...Yes.”
Her gaze kept drifting toward the man. It seemed she wanted to speak with him.
“I see.”
“Understood.”
*
After logging out of the game and leaving the Heavenly Demon Cult, Seol-ah lay inside the VR capsule and stared blankly at the ceiling. The scene of Solitude she had just witnessed lingered in her mind. The sight of people with their own dreams burning their simji only to be broken one by one had stirred countless emotions inside her.
The will to survive at all costs. The resignation spat out as they died. The final plea to fulfill their wishes.
Recalling the bright face of that young girl, Seol-ah dragged both hands down her face. Had she ever been this immersed in the death of an NPC before? No, never. She had never been the type to play games for the story.
She had never understood people who said they became too immersed in VR and could never return to those games. Now, she thought she might understand a little.
After a long while, she finally calmed down enough to stagger to her feet.
The task given to you is simple. Find your own simji.
Hwaryeong-nim had been right. She had already shown the path Seol-ah needed to walk. All that remained was for Seol-ah to take those steps.
What is my goal?
Why do I want to learn the Heavenly Demon Divine Art?
Why am I so drawn to Hwaryeong-nim?
Instead of answers, Seol-ah’s mind only produced more questions. Groaning under the endless chain of doubts, she headed to get some water and tripped over something she had tossed on the floor, tumbling across the room.
“Ouch…”
With no one to complain to, Seol-ah endured the pain alone before lifting her head to see what had tripped her. It was a martial arts novel. Harin had gotten excited after learning they shared the same hobby and had enthusiastically recommended it. After being pestered so much, Seol-ah had bought it out of curiosity, but it hadn’t been as interesting as Harin claimed. It was readable, but that was all.
I guess nothing beats that one book.
What rose in Seol-ah’s mind was the very book that had first led her into the world of wuxia—the one where the protagonist was the Heavenly Demon who brought the entire murim world to its knees. The book that had planted the seed of longing for the martial arts genre inside her.
What was I thinking when I first read it?
Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t read it in a long time. Maybe she would pick it up again.
*
<Hwaryeong-nim. Why would you make such a mistake?>
While walking through the cult in search of traces of the Blood Cult, a message from Enry arrived. Even without any explanation, the fact that she was saying this meant she had already heard the gist of what happened.
“The water has already been spilled. Tell me what I should do.”
Watching the chatroom continue to spam would only make me dizzy.
<Can I call you?>
“If you are fine with it, I have no objection.”
The moment I answered, the call connected immediately.
“Hello! This is Enry, expert in fire suppression! I have come to provide assistance!”
“The person who has started the most fires is naturally the best at putting them out!”
“So do you have a proper solution?”
I needed to quiet them down somehow if I wanted to focus on dealing with the Blood Cult.
“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t!”
“Then tell me. What is this method?”
“Let’s spin the roulette!”
“Roulette?”
“Yes! The penalty game roulette!”