For Honor (2)
The moment the staff credits began rolling on Myeong-yun’s stream, the conference room at Labisoft fell into complete silence.
No one had expected to witness such a scene firsthand.
Not only had he summoned Fortis, he had defeated him as well.
Fortis’s wish was an ancient one.
It was the only story that existed in a game with no real narrative to speak of.
Every time a player lost to Fortis, he would display a tip-like message revealing fragments of his past.
Myeong-yun had never lost, so he had never seen it…….
Still, “For Honor” contained that story.
A small easter egg the developers had hidden away.
Though calling it small was an understatement given its scale, the developers had included it in hopes that someone would one day discover it.
Occasionally it surfaced as bait on community boards, but since Fortis was not an NPC one could converse with, the topic quickly died down.
Yet at this very moment—
Today, of all days—
The story of Fortis had been reignited by the Heavenly Demon, Myeong-yun.
Messages about Fortis flooded the chat.
The sole king of Honor, the master of glory, another monster who held the record of a hundred consecutive victories.
Every developer felt a lump in their throat, but no one was more moved than the man who had designed Fortis…….
“Mitchell, are you crying?”
“…Shut up.”
It was Mitchell.
Originally, “For Honor” had been planned as a medieval fantasy open-world RPG.
Fortis was meant to appear as the “king” who would stand against the protagonist.
However, due to budget constraints, scheduling issues, and pressure from upper management, the genre was changed before release.
Things had somehow worked out in the end, but the situation back then had been truly desperate.
There had been a real possibility that the Fortis character would be deleted entirely.
How crushing it would have been for one’s own creation to vanish without ever seeing the light of day.
After relentless negotiations, only the Fortis they had created at the time was allowed to remain in “For Honor.”
Yet the conditions for encountering him were so absurd that no one knew when he would ever appear.
Then the Heavenly Demon, Myeong-yun, had drawn out Fortis’s past form.
He had shown the developers the very image they had wanted the world to see.
The image of a “king.”
That was why Mitchell’s tears would not stop.
Fortis’s dream had been the developers’ dream.
A lonely king waiting for a challenger who might one day reach him.
They were grateful to Myeong-yun for finally showing that figure to the world.
After a brief silence, one of the developers who had directed “For Honor” shouted,
“Alright, the stream’s over! Everyone, back to work! If we want to release the game we’re preparing now, we need to work even harder!”
Though the director said this, tears were also glistening in the corners of his eyes.
After defeating Fortis, an even greater wave of donations poured in than before.
Even right after completing the hundred-win challenge, donations had been enormous, but the Fortis match had truly been a battle between monsters.
Fortis existed on a superhuman level, beyond human limits.
His immense physical abilities and the way he freely swung his greatsword meant no ordinary human could possibly stand against him.
Yet Myeong-yun had done it.
And he had done so while displaying an overwhelming gap in skill.
Despite the terrifying difference in physique, he had not feared Fortis and had crushed him instead.
The process had been so unrealistic that it should have been a problem, but viewers of his stream had long grown accustomed to such sights.
“Mitchell? Thank you for the donation. With everyone offering such generous tribute, the Heavenly Demon Cult grows wealthier by the day.”
After finishing “For Honor,” a short chat time followed.
Myeong-yun read each ultra chat message one by one, expressed his thanks, and talked about “For Honor.”
“It was an enjoyable game. I safely completed the hundred-win streak, and I never expected they had prepared such a gift at the end.”
This game had been genuinely fun even for Myeong-yun.
He had been able to demonstrate the gap in skill against those who charged at him without fear, and he had unearthed raw gems.
They would need further polishing to become true jewels, but at the very least, he had found the seeds.
With that, he could lay the foundation for a virtual murim.
“Now you all understand my strength, don’t you? The meaning of martial arts.”
Myeong-yun had been about to ask what a Heavenly Demon Death Beam was, but held back.
Sang-hyun had told him not to ask about such things.
“If you still don’t understand, keep watching my stream. You’ll figure it out eventually.”
The chat split between those who understood and those who did not.
Myeong-yun smiled briefly at the flood of messages and said,
“There is still a long way to go. That will be all for today’s stream. I shall return with an even more entertaining plan next time. Until then, children, have a good night.”
With that, Myeong-yun’s stream ended, achieving a peak viewership of 110,000—an all-time record.
“Hey, want to go eat some omakase? You’re paying, of course.”
“I need to save money. Why would we eat omakase?”
After leaving New World, Myeong-yun replied to Sang-hyun’s suggestion and closed his eyes, replaying the day’s events.
The hundred-win challenge he had carried out in “For Honor.”
From the very first match to the final hundredth.
“Not bad.”
Until now he had only fought artificial intelligence, but battling real people brought a different kind of enjoyment.
AI simply moved according to its programming—literal “machines.”
Even when they attempted psychological warfare, they could never truly match real humans.
Humans were all different.
With a hundred people came a hundred different preferences.
Even the same problem could have a hundred different solutions.
Martial arts were the same.
Because there were so many people, so many different martial arts could be born.
That was what humans were.
Beyond the mere mechanical reproduction of movement that AI could manage, there existed a beauty only humans could show.
Even within imperfection, there was elegance.
“What are you getting all sentimental about? Come here and look at the donation total we got today.”
Sang-hyun waved him over.
When Myeong-yun approached and looked at the computer screen, the amount displayed was honestly hard to believe.
The hundred-win mission reward had been ten million won, so anything above that was expected, but still…….
“You earned someone’s annual salary in a single day? Honestly, I’m so detached from reality right now I’m just saying whatever comes to mind.”
“I’m having trouble feeling reality too.”
During the roughly three-hour stream in which he had played “For Honor,” Myeong-yun had earned over twenty million won.
To be precise, 27,553,240 won.
A considerable portion had come from overseas donations in yuan or dollars.
Even after fees, it was close to twenty million won.
It was an amount that felt like money was being duplicated.
With just the money earned over the past few days, he could cover university tuition and living expenses throughout his studies.
Myeong-yun, who had originally planned to simply save the money, decided he still wanted some reward and spoke to Sang-hyun.
“…If there’s a good place, make a reservation.”
“Oh, you really are my best friend! Since you like eating too, I’ll find a good spot and book it!”
At Myeong-yun’s words, Sang-hyun beamed with joy.
Opportunities to eat omakase were rare, after all.
Myeong-yun himself enjoyed fine dining, so he accepted the idea cheerfully.
After school, Myeong-yun and Sang-hyun headed home together.
After much discussion, they had decided to explain the current situation to his mother together.
Originally, they had planned to wait until after January, when he became an adult, to explain properly, but with tens of millions of won of unclear origin accumulating in the account (which his mother managed), she would inevitably grow suspicious.
Some people kept their VTuber activities secret from their families, but Myeong-yun had no desire to create such secrets.
He believed it was his duty as family to explain everything properly first and obtain permission.
Sang-hyun had agreed to accompany him because there was a chance his parents might not fully understand.
Since Myeong-yun’s explanation alone might not be convincing, Sang-hyun had joined as the explainer.
“Anyway, since we’re not streaming today, I’ll prepare for the next project and pick up our parents at the restaurant I reserved for dinner.”
“Got it.”
“My parents will come too, so if we all have a family meal together and ask for permission, it’ll be easier.”
There was a hint of worry in Sang-hyun’s tone.
He seemed concerned about what would happen if Myeong-yun’s parents got angry.
They might even think he had corrupted Myeong-yun.
Myeong-yun chuckled at Sang-hyun’s expression and gave him a firm pat on the back.
“Don’t worry. There’s no way my parents would refuse.”
Myeong-yun knew his parents well. They were good people who would do anything for him.
Even if he were to do hard physical labor, as long as it was something he enjoyed, they would respect it.
The love of his parents was something he had never received in his previous life, and it was vast enough to reform even the Heavenly Demon.
Sang-hyun, who also knew Myeong-yun’s parents to some extent, felt a little relieved.
Compared to his own parents, Myeong-yun’s were gentle people.
And that evening, when both families gathered together—
“Absolutely not!”
—came the voice of opposition from Myeong-yun’s mother, Kim Seon-yeong.