The Million Club
The development studio behind Cyberpunk in Murim 2077, Fighters Forest.
They had stayed in the conference room watching Myeong-yun’s stream until the very end. The moment the broadcast cut, the entire room erupted.
“Woooooooooo—!!!”
“I knew we could trust the Heavenly Demon!!”
“Holy shit, that was actually insane—!!!”
Everyone was swept up in a whirlwind of pure ecstasy.
The performance Myeong-yun had shown was exactly what they had always dreamed of.
They had all witnessed it, after all.
The hidden trigger that only activated when the NPCs’ artificial intelligence registered their opponent as a monster.
The martial arts packed with instant-kill patterns were the distilled malice of the entire dev team given form.
The Cult’s Asura Heavenly Demon Divine Art, Saro Heaven’s Nine-Tails Evil Heavenly Divine Art, and the Namgung Group’s Heavenly Wall Emperor Sword Form.
Techniques so close to suicide moves that the leaders of each faction only unleashed them when mutual destruction was the sole path to victory.
All three apex beings of Sleepless City had identified Myeong-yun as a monster and drawn their secret arts.
According to Fighters Forest’s calculations, the moment those techniques were deployed, the player’s win rate dropped below thirty percent. The odds of mutual destruction exceeded ninety. It was no exaggeration to say the martial arts the AI carried had been designed for one purpose: to kill players.
A wall that could not be broken without countless attempts.
“Not one, but all three of them used their hidden gimmicks, and he still won? Without taking a single point of damage?”
“That last move was straight-up crazy. Cheonma-singong? That’s what real Cheonma-singong looks like. What we coded wasn’t even martial arts!”
Before they were developers, they were gamers. Before they were developers, they were viewers.
When the VTuber they rooted for showed something magnificent, they could only scream.
“But how did he even do that? He swallowed Namgung-cheon’s sword energy and converted it into his own technique! Did we even have a system like that in the game?”
“There was probably leftover code from the Absorbing Power Great Law. But that spec was scrapped because it was too heavy on the user. The martial implementation was never finished. I’m pretty sure only the operating skeleton is still in there.”
“So the Heavenly Demon used the Absorbing Power Great Law with nothing but his own power? How does that even work?”
“I don’t think that’s quite it…”
The development team’s joy lasted only a moment before they fell into heated discussion over the final sight Myeong-yun had displayed.
Absorbing every last strand of Namgung-cheon’s energy and shaping it into a colossal black orb to crush his foe—that was a feature that had never been implemented in the game they built.
Yet no matter how they debated, they could not reach an answer.
It was the limit of men who had created a martial arts game without ever understanding true martial arts themselves.
“…Anyway, call the PR team and tell them to get in touch. Overtime starts tonight!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Understood!”
“Hai!”
“A western bastard has invaded the gangho! Die! This is Cheonma-singong!”
“Hoo…”
Myeong-yun rose from the bed as he exited New World.
“You ended the stream early. You could’ve at least read a few more donations and chat messages.”
“I was in no condition to do so.”
With those words, Myeong-yun tossed the New World device toward Sang-hyun.
Sang-hyun caught it on reflex, his face puzzled, then immediately screamed.
“Ah, hot!! What the hell is this?!”
The cooling fan was spinning at blinding speed, yet it couldn’t handle the heat. The device felt like a live coal.
Sang-hyun slammed it onto the floor and frantically shook both hands.
“Wow, fuck, it’s burning! Why is it like this? Wait, is it because of that Cheonma-singong you used at the end?”
“Correct.”
“When the hell did you even learn that? I was monitoring the whole time and I never saw it once.”
“Learn? I simply knew it from the beginning.”
“…?”
Sang-hyun gave Myeong-yun a look that said what kind of nonsense is that? before picking up the now slightly cooler device.
He frowned deeply.
“This thing’s done for. How long has it even been since you bought it? Guess I’ll have to send it in for repairs.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. The cooling fan isn’t even spinning anymore. Just how hard did you push it?”
“I did run it right up to the limit.”
It seemed using the Heavenly Demon Black Wheel Technique had been the decisive blow. He had hoped the device would endure a little longer, but the resources required to control the art had far exceeded his expectations.
Myeong-yun took the New World back from Sang-hyun and smiled faintly.
“You have worked hard. The finale was suitably spectacular, so it was worth it.”
“What are you talking about? We’ll just get it fixed. A new model came in anyway. Once it’s repaired we can sell it used.”
“…It appears you possess no human heart whatsoever.”
“Why is this guy being so weird today?”
Sang-hyun shrugged and beckoned Myeong-yun over.
Myeong-yun glanced at the desk that had somehow gained two extra monitors, raised an eyebrow, and looked at the screen.
What Sang-hyun had pulled up were the records Myeong-yun had shattered that day.
With a single broadcast, he had broken countless milestones.
“…This is.”
“Exactly. One million subscribers. In a single week! One million!”
Sang-hyun slapped Myeong-yun’s back with a loud smack.
Today’s stream had blown up so much that even though Sang-hyun hadn’t uploaded the edited VOD yet, viewers were flooding the channel.
Those who arrived late were probably watching the replay right now, shivering with excitement while soothing the regret of missing it live.
They were subscribing, turning on notifications, swearing they wouldn’t miss the next live.
Hundreds of thousands of such people had poured in at once…
And so they had reached it.
One million subscribers.
The previous record for fastest VTuber to one million had been two weeks. That record had stood untouched, a legendary feat in the history of the platform.
But history is always rewritten.
The Heavenly Demon Myeong-yun, having descended upon the internet, claimed one million subscribers in only seven days and became the new record holder.
“Looks like we’ll receive the gold button before we even apply for silver.”
“Silver button?”
“The shield-shaped plaque YouTube gives you at one hundred thousand subscribers.”
“A shield, you say.”
“It looks like a shield, so that’s what people call it. Anyway, congratulations. One million!”
“…Somehow it still doesn’t feel real.”
It had only been a week since he had once again become the Heavenly Demon inside virtual reality.
He had barely registered the fact that he was now a VTuber.
Myeong-yun had simply returned to being the Heavenly Demon as he once was and done whatever he pleased.
Yet the moment he saw the number one million, the realization finally hit him: so many people across the world were cheering for him.
It is different from my previous life.
In his past life, he had possessed countless believers as well.
The disciples who joined the Heavenly Demon Cult had looked up to him with reverence.
They knelt, bowed their heads, sought salvation, and begged to be guided.
They worshipped him as a god and offered everything they possessed.
But these people desired no such thing.
All they wanted was entertainment. They did not offer their everything.
It could be called a far healthier relationship than the one he once had.
Perhaps, deep down, I longed for exactly this kind of bond.
After all, the more faith one received, the heavier the burden became.
The being known as the Heavenly Demon asked nothing of his followers. He simply existed, and they followed of their own accord.
Yet the followers prayed.
They prayed that the Heavenly Demon would watch over them, that he would lead them along the demonic path.
The Heavenly Demon did not answer those prayers, but the weight of them still existed.
When hundreds of thousands, when millions prayed for you, how could you possibly ignore them?
If every Heavenly Demon in history were sent to a psychiatric hospital, they would all be diagnosed with severe stress-induced gastritis.
“How does it feel?”
“Not bad at all. And allow me to correct one thing. I did not achieve this alone. We did it together.”
“…You little brat. Hearing you say that actually makes me feel pretty good too.”
Sang-hyun stretched his arms wide.
Before they started this VTuber venture, he had never imagined it would go this well.
Ever since virtual reality arrived, countless people had rushed into the industry.
Combining independents and corporate talents, the number easily reached the tens of thousands.
If they counted the current total, it might already surpass one hundred thousand.
Surviving in an industry that the VR boom had turned into a complete red ocean was no easy feat.
Even today, new VTubers debuted while those who failed quietly vanished or graduated.
The path of a VTuber was merciless.
“We’ve crossed one huge mountain. Hitting one million basically means you’ve joined the big leagues and entered the ‘Million Club.’”
“Million Club?”
“That’s what people call it once you pass a million subs. More subscribers means more ad deals, easier collaborations with other VTubers. We’ve passed the imperial exam and climbed aboard the flower palanquin.”
Sang-hyun sent Myeong-yun a pre-captured image displaying the exact figure—1,000,000—and continued.
“Post something on Twitster. Thank them for the million subscribers.”
“Very well.”
Myeong-yun chuckled and gave Sang-hyun’s back a light pat.
When Sang-hyun turned with a questioning look, Myeong-yun spoke.
“Now that I think about it, the chat kept mentioning the arena. It didn’t seem related to the game, so I ignored it, but… has someone sent this seat a formal duel challenge?”
“Ah, that.”
Sang-hyun roughly scratched his head, thought for a moment, then let out a heavy sigh.
It was clear the matter had been weighing on him.
“You know how the nail that sticks out gets hammered down, right? Like the awl in the bag?”
“That analogy is slightly off.”
“Whatever. Your physical ability got famous, so now there are guys publicly challenging you to fights. They’re calling your physical hacks, cheats, the whole nonsense.”
“And?”
“They’re uploading videos outright. Those Rekka bastards. Saying if you’re not scared, come and try it.”
Sang-hyun moved the mouse and played a video.
Even though he had proven it multiple times during live broadcasts, they still called it manipulation or hacks.
Of course, that wasn’t what truly mattered to them.
They were not driven by any sense of justice to expose the truth.
It seemed he had been burned by similar types before; Sang-hyun’s reaction was unusually fierce.
Myeong-yun found his friend’s response amusing and grinned.
“It appears the theme for the next broadcast has been decided. To think someone would dare send a duel invitation to This Seat without knowing their proper place.”
“…You’re really going to do it?”
Seeing the look on Myeong-yun’s face, Sang-hyun knew there would be no stopping him.
In a tone of complete resignation, he muttered.
“Fine. Since you’ve hit a million, just do whatever you want.”