Fate (2)
“Phew… hope that did it. Pretty sure I snagged first place.”
Today was the day I'd been waiting for forever. The day the month rolled over. The day the aggregated Gallery Creation Ranking results dropped.
According to the stats from the last Gallery Creation Ranking, first place was basically a lock. But the future's unpredictable by nature. Just like how I ended up a girl, there could be some wild upset in the rankings too.
“It's up.”
I kept hitting refresh until the awards post finally appeared. Keeping my nerves in check, I tapped it and scrolled to the bottom with my eyes closed.
“Bottom up. Bottom up…”
I slowly dragged the post upward, checking the ranks. 10th, 9th, 8th… No sign of my username down there, obviously. After all the hell I'd been through.
4th. Things started getting tense here. My name could pop up anytime. From 5th on, it was all serious Gallery Creation pros like me—guys gunning straight for the top.
Us top shitposters—myself included—were total maniacs with comment-to-post ratios around 100:1, so our post counts were insane.
Not like some obscure minor gallery nobody visits. Ours was top-tier among game galleries.
“3rd… nothing so far.”
3rd place had 3,117 posts. A solid rival, but not my match. Mine was easily over 3,500.
“Tch…”
Next, 2nd place: 3,628 posts. A monster. This freak did nothing but eat and shitpost all day—a jobless time-wasting Bill Gates.
“Phew…”
But above that beast was an even greater shitposting legend.
He123
Post Count: 4,001
That was me. Fuck yeah, I nailed it. First place! A whopping 4,001 posts! 4,000 in a month! The gallery's poster boy for unemployment, shitting out 133 posts a day. That was my moment.
“What a brutal war…”
I stared at the glorious scene in a daze, like a general after an epic battle.
Savoring it, I thought back on all the struggles and agony to climb the rankings—how to shitpost more efficiently—then dropped a comment.
The reactions were explosive, as expected. Deep down, it felt awesome. This top spot was my victory banner.
“That was rough…”
It really was. Cranking out 140 posts a day ain't easy. Sure, if you were just obsessed with ranking, maybe not—but for me, it was different.
I wanted my posts to be good ones that visitors actually liked, not just gallery-clogging trash that nobody clicked.
All that agonizing over quality while grinding quantity? It fried my brain as bad as magic research back in the day. No exaggeration.
“No regrets, though.”
4,001. An insane number. The results matched the effort. I was basking in the reactions when—
Bzzz—
My smartphone vibrated on the desk. Incoming call.
Lately, the Magic Association and others kept blowing up my phone, so I wasn't thrilled.
But this time, I picked up the second I saw the screen.
“Hello?”
“Ah, yes. Yang Jia? Doing well?”
It was Baek Seol-yeon. Lately, her calls were the only ones I looked forward to. Selling the mana stone would finally ease my money woes.
And her calling again meant a buyer had shown up. She never called for personal stuff.
If anything, she'd initiated maybe five calls in over five years. She visited in person way more.
“I'm good. You, Seol-yeon? Hehe.”
Fresh off my ranking high, I was in a great mood— even teasing her with a nickname I never used.
“What's with you today? And don't call me Seol-yeon. A buyer wants your mana stone, so I called.”
Bingo. Grinning ear to ear, I asked,
“Cool. When and where?”
She said mana stone deals were usually in-person. Verify mana reaction, follow buyer-seller protocol, whatever.
Didn't matter to me. Cash in hand was all I cared about.
As I grabbed my stuff to head out, she dropped a cryptic line.
“Well… the buyer's someone you might not like.”
“Huh? Who?”
“Magic Association elf. That says it all, right?”
Association, huh. Awkward, yeah. Our relationship was trash.
They probably saw me as some “insolent little girl slinging high-level magic,” but even back in Yggdrasil as Kenis, we'd clashed hard.
“Just checking in case. If you hate it, I can find someone else. High-grade mana stones don't lose value over time anyway.”
Thoughtful of her. Performance-wise, selling fast was better.
“……”
I pondered. Association buying my stone? No coincidence. Probably bait to lure me out since I never picked up their calls.
“Hmm.”
I eyed the mana stone. My head felt cool again.
Brain spinning: Inside a spatial mana Gate was my domain. Mana stones resonated with my mana—same breed.
“Hold on.”
They dangled bait for the fish—me. But they overlooked one thing.
“Deal. Where?”
This fish was a whale. I'd bite, then soar up and crush them.
Time to show who they messed with.
Me, the gallery-certified Time America.
Why the Association gave me the title of Archmage of Omniscience despite our bad blood? Simple: appeasement.
Once they realized I outpowered their whole force, they slapped fancy titles on me to win me over.
I accepted the Archmage coronation invite without hesitation. Time to end the feud.
Started small, but it snowballed into a chasm.
Post-coronation, I secluded in the Mist Forest, honing magic.
That's when I discovered spatial magic. Elves with grudges sent assassins, but my spatial mana barrier shut that down.
Hummm—
Elves are born of magic, live by it, die by it.
We're hypersensitive to mana compared to other races, wary of the unfamiliar.
Like humans struggling in strange environments, elves get side effects from alien mana.
Mild cases: cold sweats, tension.
Worse: mana circuits burn out, slashing capacity.
“……”
On the bus to the Elf Management Bureau, I cloaked myself in faint mana.
Tiny amount—undetectable to non-elves, but elves would sense it. A warning.
Spatial mana was alien to them. They'd felt it via objects or Gates, never from another elf.
“Next stop: Elf Management Bureau. Elf Management Bureau.”
I grabbed my bag and got off. A big building with floor-to-ceiling glass loomed nearby. That was it.
Elves bustled around—mostly males, some Gate raid teams.
They wore Yggdrasil gear, clashing with Earth.
A few eyed me, but I kept my head down.
Inside, Baek Seol-yeon and an unfamiliar elf waited in a meeting room.
Association elf, decked in gaudy necklace, rings—total tryhard.
I opened the door.
“Ah, you're here.”
Baek Seol-yeon welcomed me warmly. The buyer elf? Face already pale—he'd sensed my mana.
“Nice to meet you.”
I shook his hand casually. He was shaking, sweaty, fingers trembling.
Mana control and output = weight class among elves. He was a rabbit facing a predator.
“How do we do this?”
I dumped the mana stone from my bag. He stammered,
“Uh, yeah. Price… 100,000 won each?”
Baek shot me a look. Way too low. I'd Googled it.
I amped my mana subtly.
“500,000.”
He panicked, nodded mutely. Price didn't matter—just escape.
“Deal.”
Handed over the stone, got paid. Protocol was quick: wrist on machine, channel mana.
Elf bolted with the stone.
Baek Seol-yeon smirked.
“A bit intense today, huh?”
“Intense? I'm in a great mood. Know what GalChang Ranking is? I took first.”
“GalChang Ranking? What's that?”
“Term for the community's greatest user. You gotta study up online.”
She scanned me top to bottom, then handed over some license.
“This?”
“Hunter license. No permits needed for Gates anymore.”
“Why give me…”
“You looked like you were having fun on that stream.”
True enough. More comfy than fun, but close.
She continued,
“Recent intel: Gate spawning near your place. Up to you if you go.”
She marked the spot on my phone. Local stream by the convenience store—that clerk's spot. Nighttime emergence.
One question:
“If no one enters or survivors, total wipe—failed raid—what happens?”
She looked surprised, then explained patiently.
“Mana condenses, rift cracks… area gets mana-polluted. Earth's soil and water are vulnerable, so nation sends cleaners. Not fully gone—becomes 'Gate hazard zone.' Where I grew up.”
“Hmm.”
Pondered Gates, then asked,
“Can I stream it?”
No words—just her beaming smile and nod. I left the room.
“W-Wait…”
Outside: pissed-off elf and the shaky one. I brushed past. Felt their stares, ignored.
From his view? Probably,
'I met a monster.'
“Yawwwn…”
Long time out—fatigue hit hard. Headed home, blew mana stone cash on RPG top-ups, crashed.