The Heavenly Demon Arrives: Narak (8)

The game Narak collected players’ play data and used it to generate countless derivative stories.

Every detail—how the player had fought, what equipment and martial arts they had used—was meticulously recorded.

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Countless players had wondered why the game went to such lengths to gather information.

Now, that very secret was being revealed live on Myeong-yun’s stream.

The real-time viewer count had already surpassed fifty thousand. An unbelievable number for a VTuber who had only debuted a few days ago.

Myeong-yun smiled softly and spoke.

Ignoring the sudden chaos exploding in chat, Myeong-yun kept his hands clasped behind his back and stared at the replica mirroring his exact posture.

Facing an existence that looked identical to himself sparked an unexpected surge of interest.

Myeong-yun raised one hand and beckoned with a flick of his finger, inviting the opponent to come first.

The replica Heavenly Demon immediately stepped forward.

Since it had been created from Myeong-yun’s own body data and playstyle, even its running form was eerily identical to his.

The replica swung both hands in a flurry. It seemed determined to go all out from the start, launching strikes aimed at every vital point with countless variations of technique—just as Myeong-yun had done against his enemies.

“Hmm…”

Yet Myeong-yun merely looked as if he found the assault lacking. He freed only one hand from behind his back and effortlessly deflected every single blow.

After parrying the attacks, he thrust his palm forward and struck the replica squarely in the solar plexus. Then he clenched and unclenched his fist a few times before speaking.

The replica Heavenly Demon charged again.

This time it mimicked Myeong-yun’s playstyle even more faithfully—light footwork paired with lightning-fast strikes aimed at vital points.

It seemed to be replicating the moment it had briefly surpassed Bi-ryeong’s speed.

Yet not a single one of the replica’s attacks reached Myeong-yun.

He simply kept both hands clasped behind his back now, lightly stepping through footwork techniques to dodge every blow with ease.

While viewers spammed chat calling it nonsense, the distance between the two shifted once again.

Myeong-yun reached out toward the charging replica, grabbed its head, and slammed it straight into the ground.

A perfectly timed counter that struck the moment of vulnerability.

The replica quickly got back up and reset its stance, but Myeong-yun’s assault ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had only just begun.

He closed in and struck the replica’s body repeatedly with the edge of his hand—light, rhythmic blows that almost looked like a massage.

Finally, Myeong-yun’s finger touched the center of the replica’s chest.

With nothing more than a gentle press of his index finger—as if pushing a button—he drove it into the solar plexus.

The replica’s movements froze. Then its entire body began to twist violently, as though it had been shot.

In the next instant—boom!—its body exploded, dissolving into a handful of liquid.

To the viewers, it looked like the replica had taken a few hits and then randomly exploded.

Myeong-yun kept his hands behind his back as if nothing had happened and calmly explained.

Even Myeong-yun found that part rather fascinating.

No matter how closely it mimicked reality, a game was still a game.

Was it truly possible to unleash real martial arts within one?

It almost feels as if I can sense internal energy as well.

He once again marveled at the performance of New World, the pinnacle of modern cutting-edge technology.

Having defeated the replica Heavenly Demon, Myeong-yun clasped his hands behind his back once more and began walking forward at a leisurely pace.

Before long, a heavy sound reached his ears.

Thump— Thump—

It was the sound of a heartbeat.

What soon appeared before Myeong-yun was a colossal black heart.

The heart, roughly the size of his upper body, beat slowly as if it no longer had the strength to continue.

Seeing its dying appearance, Myeong-yun spoke.

Myeong-yun let out a small chuckle at the sudden WWE match breaking out in chat, then reached toward the heart.

The moment his hand touched it, the throbbing heartbeat gradually slowed.

It was the expected reaction.

The current viewer count had exceeded 53,000, and most of them had come to see Narak’s new content.

An end-game challenge that could never be reached without exceptional physical ability.

Once Myeong-yun finished Narak, a large portion of the current audience would undoubtedly leave.

Myeong-yun squeezed his hand, crushing the heart.

The world shook violently, then began to collapse.

The black world melted like paint and flowed away.

Ceiling, walls, floor… the black hue that had covered the abyss slowly faded, revealing a brilliant new world.

Myeong-yun stood atop a cliff.

The thick darkness of Narak receded, and beyond the mountain ridges, the morning sun began to rise.

As the darkness gradually thinned, brilliant light spread across the land. The sight was truly spectacular.

“Hahaha!”

But of course, the viewers were still the viewers. Plenty of them deliberately ruined the atmosphere, yet Myeong-yun paid them no mind.

Witnessing the ending of an entire world had, for some reason, set his heart racing.

Indeed. I never witnessed the end of the murim world.

That was precisely why he could stand here now.

With the single-minded desire to see an ending.

With the single-minded resolve to once again create a murim world filled with chaos.

As he stood there for a while, watching the sunrise, the ending credits and staff roll began to appear.

The lead developers, localization team, art directors, marketers… and even the special thanks.

Myeong-yun and the viewers quietly watched the morning sun until every name in the staff roll had scrolled by (the chat was noisy, but he didn’t spare it a single glance).

Finally, the last line appeared: “Thank you for playing Narak.”

Still immersed in the lingering aftertaste of Narak, Myeong-yun quietly reflected on the path he had walked.

Becoming a virtual YouTuber had truly been an excellent decision.

Thinking that he might even feel regret on days he didn’t stream, Myeong-yun opened his mouth to conclude the broadcast.

“Well then…”

And at that exact moment, a donation alert sounded. He had disabled alerts for donations below a certain amount, yet…

It was an official donation from OnTheRocks, the developer of Narak.

And they had generously sent five million won in one go.

Probably because he had set the alert to only trigger for donations of five million won or more.

After reading the donation, Myeong-yun turned around, putting the rising morning sun at his back.

He looked directly into the camera and replied.

He chose not to mention that everything except Bi-ryeong had been rather lackluster.

Still keeping his hands clasped behind his back, Myeong-yun continued.

Myeong-yun let out a soft chuckle.

As long as he had viewers like these, he would enjoy playing any game.

Sang-hyun had once told him that for a VTuber, the most important thing was to enjoy it themselves above all else.

When he had first heard those words, he hadn’t quite understood. But now, he felt he was beginning to grasp their meaning.

Just as Myeong-yun was about to express his gratitude once more, another donation from OnTheRocks exploded across the screen.

Although it had enjoyed considerable popularity, news of a Narak sequel had been completely nonexistent.

People didn’t know whether development was still underway or if the project had simply been scrapped.

Many users had desperately wanted a sequel, but OnTheRocks had remained stubbornly silent—until now.

The announcement of Narak’s sequel wasn’t made at a press conference.

It was made right here, on Myeong-yun’s stream.