Streamer Soma (5)

After the in-depth analysis broadcast on Syme's Hidden Route finally wrapped up, people figured that with nearly every scrap of Hidden Route information now out in the open, the community sites that had been blazing white-hot over Nightfall would cool down at least a little.

To cut straight to the conclusion, though: that guess was only half right.

Just as most folks had predicted, the fever around Nightfall's Hidden Route bait had largely died down. Topics involving Yujin, on the other hand, were still burning every bit as fiercely as before.

Yesterday, for reasons known only to himself, Yujin had not gone live. He left nothing but a brief notice saying personal circumstances would keep him off stream, and that he would return before long with news that would leave everyone stunned.

Of course, that was the exact kind of line streamers always used when they suddenly went on hiatus, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so viewers did not take the words at face value. They simply wanted—needed—Yujin back as soon as possible to play through the final chapter of the Hidden Route, and this was the only way they could vent that longing.

Because even though the number of streamers tackling the Hidden Route had grown, the only person who could truly satisfy the viewers' hunger, in any real sense, was still just one man: Yujin.

And so, across Pawol Gallery and every other community site, people twisted themselves into knots waiting for him to return—right up until that very moment.

At last, the news they had been waiting and waiting for arrived.

At first, people could not hide their disappointment that it was not the stream announcement they had been craving. That feeling lasted only a moment, though. Curiosity about the video that had just appeared on his YouTube channel began to take hold.

No notice. No explanation. Just a single video, sitting there alone. The sheer confidence and nerve of uploading it like that was impossible to miss.

The title of the video was none other than Demon King.

And so, as if entranced, people clicked—

Static—

The screen came to life.

The figure filling the frame was Yujin, facing off against a pack of disposable extras for reasons no one could yet understand. More than ten of them were preparing to take on a single man, and yet there was not a trace of guilt or shame in their eyes. What radiated from them instead was a strange exhilaration—and an unidentifiable sense of relief.

In that hair-trigger moment as they locked eyes—

BOOM—!

A casual swing of Yujin's sword sent one of the extras sailing into the sky like a home-run ball, and the real fight began.

What followed was something that left every single person watching the video far behind in the dust of their own imaginations.

From every direction, more than ten ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blades came flying at Yujin at once. Drop any other person in the world into that spot and they would have been turned into a human skewer in a heartbeat. The instant everyone watching thought, It's over—

Yujin's sword swept the surroundings like a storm.

No—he was not merely swinging a sword. Fists pistoned out. Elbows whipped around. Shoulders slammed. Feet stomped down. Knees drove into bodies. Every form of violence a human being could inflict poured out of Yujin's body in that single moment.

The extras threw every trick they had into stopping his assault, but none of it worked. The way every one of their attacks skimmed past Yujin's body by the thickness of a single sheet of paper filled the viewers with a kind of awe.

The content of the video was so absurd that viewers found their mouths hanging open without realizing it. Yet as if to mock those suspicions, the entire clip was raw from start to finish—not a single edit in sight. And the extras charging at Yujin wore the grim faces of men who had already accepted their own deaths.

Every person watching understood it on pure instinct.

This was not acting. No—this was something that could never have been acting.

How much time had passed? In the end, the only figure still standing on two feet inside the frame was Yujin. He looked for all the world like a man alone atop a mountain of corpses.

In that moment, every person watching Yujin's video could only stare blankly at the screen.

And then—

Static—

The image shifted. No—it was not a cut. CGI began to layer itself over Yujin as he stood alone atop that mountain of corpses. The backdrop transformed from a set into a desolate Gothic city, and Yujin's clothes changed from ordinary streetwear into the gear hunters typically wore in Nightfall.

Something about him was off, though.

An ominous black aura bled from his entire body, and a geometric pattern of some kind had been carved into his left cheek. At a glance it might have looked like cheap chuunibyou theatrics, but not a single viewer felt that way. Because every last person looking at Yujin felt genuine unease.

It was impossible, of course—and yet it was the kind of creeping dread that came from witnessing an actual Demon King and watching someone faintly, imperfectly imitate it.

That was what made it impossible for anyone watching to tear their eyes from the screen.

Cloaked in that sinister energy, Yujin murmured the words while holding the equally blackened Holy Sword Omega.

The dread only deepened. As if heralding him, the crows circling above the city cried out even louder.

Yujin smiled. It was the smile of something not human, trying to imitate a human, and every viewer froze solid.

And then—

With that final image the screen crackled, shuddered, and went black.

A single line of text rose in its place.

The world flipped upside down.