To Teach Someone

"Now, the donations should be active. I say this again — expect no special reaction or reward from me in return."

Beep-ring! An electronic chime rang out, announcing the first donation. Its content was —

Rather an odd message, that.

"Ah, so you are my first donor."

Beep-ring! Hard on its heels came another electronic chime.

"Did the first not already pass you by?"

Hm. What exactly did this "first donation" mean to these people, that they came pouring in the very instant donations were switched on?

"..."

I hereby give up on understanding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠these people. They are like unto the Abyss itself.

And things like this, on top of it all. Ordinarily I would have paid it no mind, but having witnessed something shocking mere moments ago, I find it grates on me. I had best raise the minimum donation, then. It is, after all, something anyone can do... If such trifles as these are permitted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to scatter one's focus, how are they any different from torture?

"Might I send you all out?"

Truly, after waging a full-scale war against these people for whom I cannot find words, I changed the donation settings.

"The minimum shall be ten thousand won. There shall be no more of these thousand won punches."

"Now the ten thousand won punch too is an eyesore!"

It seems opening donations at all was a mistake — it seems I was wrong to lend any ear to my viewers — or so I thought, and in a fit of pique I raised the minimum donation to one hundred thousand won.

"Surely now they cannot disturb me."

"You are the ones who made me this way! Accept your karma."

"Would you please stop with this nonsense...!"

Even after raising the minimum to six figures, they spout such drivel. What on earth fuels this passion of theirs for talking rubbish?

"Let us have done with this and proceed with the game. I shall lower the donation minimum again in due course, so kindly cease."

If I listened to any more of this prattle, I truly felt I might come to understand what it means to step out for a leisurely lunch.

"You were caught quickly enough."

And then, in the room I had entered, something strange caught my eye.

"Do newlings' garments always glitter so?"

In my own case, these very robes of mine had been registered along with me, but those others — they appeared to be wearing some manner of armor.

"And that one there is wearing nothing but undergarments."

What manner of creatures, in heaven's name, were the newlings of this place...

Ah, so I was not, in fact, a newling. But was it not the unwritten rule that old-timers run about in bunny hoodies and underwear? What is this armored one doing here, then?

"Is that armored one an old-timer as well?"

Come to think of it, no self-respecting old-timer would play the game clad in thick plate armor.

"It seems we are about to begin."

The numbers floating before my eyes took the form of a countdown. Begun at five, the figure descended at last to one — and the surroundings shifted.

"A harbor. Hm, a terrain without forests."

We had been moved to a comparatively open stretch of ground. It was not without obstacles for the survivors, but everything about it seemed weighted against them.

Moreover, when I had spectated Aso's broadcast, the terrain had been generously wooded — this time the map seemed full of open ground. As I was surveying the area, I noticed that the other survivors had vanished somewhere.

"The others have gone off somewhere."

"Ah, so this is the spawning ground where both survivors and killers are created."

Amid a flood of chat — questions, urgency, and no small measure of private appetite — I sensed a presence appear behind me. So this was the killer's presence. The figure stood roughly seven cheok tall, red-skinned with gleaming blue eyes. Fine musculature, was it not? Admittedly, it was a crafted killer's form. But for that frame to belong to a woman — was that not going too far? Well. It mattered not either way.

"You are of considerable size."

As I observed the killer, she merely stared blankly — perhaps this was a first for a killer as well. That simply would not do. If she meant to catch me, now was the only chance she would get, was it not?

Well, such a misapprehension is understandable enough — but I had told them time and again not to measure me by their own standards. And yet,

"You are very tall indeed."

My neck ached from looking up.

"Kneel."

To find a change of expression on that face like a potato with eyes attached — it seemed I had uncovered a most remarkable talent. Though, in fairness, the fury came through in that scream regardless of expression. Still, is discovering someone's talent not the greater reward?

The killer's thighs began to draw taut. From her right hip to her fingertips, from her left heel up through her calf — muscles surged and, in an instant, she launched herself forward, the right arm shooting out.

"Do you not see where she aims?"

But an arm extended so honestly — even a sloth could dodge that. Hm... no, that is not quite right. What could a sloth hope to dodge? I let the outstretched arm slip past me like flowing water and flung my body behind her back. Come to think of it, could the killer hear speech as well?

"You, I take it, have no idea who I am."

"UAAAAARGH!!"

Wheeled about, the killer plunged in once more. This time she seemed intent on crushing me in an embrace, her whole tension gathered into both arms — and now.

"I must decline the hug."

I timed my leap to the instant of that explosive lunge. The killer's pupils flicked rapidly, registering me; even as she sought to convert the embrace into a swing to match my leap, I set my foot upon the swinging arm.

"You have not yet attained the speed of thought."

You are a thousand years too early to catch me.

I stepped lightly off her head and rolled away, and the sight of the killer on her knees as she turned to look after me seemed somehow hollowed-out. And yet — kneeling, our eyes were finally level.

"Ah. So that is why I never told you who I am."

I'd logged on for the first time in ages to blow off some stress. Figured that after such ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a long break, I'd only run into mid-tier randos rather than the truly stale old-timers, and...

"Ah. So that is why I never told you who I am."

Why on earth would I need to know who you are?! I mean, sure, your face is stupidly, ridiculously handsome — but it's a character creator anyway, so who cares! And yeah, it's absurdly well-made, I don't know how many days they spent on it, fine!

I just came here to let off steam... why the hell am I feeling a WALL?! Not that the guy can hear anything but weird sobbing noises from me anyway, but I wanted to swear at him at least once, properly.

"I am a streamer of the Infinity — the Sword God."

A streamer. Okay, and what the hell am I supposed to do with that? I can read where this is going — "speed of thought," this ridiculous bit, and you're giving ME advice? And that's the Heavenly Demon outfit, isn't it. Great, a Heavenly Demon fanboy. Seriously... what next, are you going to grief me later?

"I broadcast in order to teach those such as you."

Ha, must be nice, teaching people and all. And what does that make someone like me? But — the moment she gave up on catching him and looked him full in the face, that face was so stupidly handsome that her fury melted away in an instant.

He was insanely, criminally handsome. Was that even a human being? But the Sword God... where had she heard that before? Sword God, Sword God... Sword God Punch? The spider swarm massacre?

"Come at me again. I shall deign to teach you."

That face, which had been merely handsome, now seemed to radiate light. Someone like that is going to teach me?

All those countless clips floating around the galleries. Every one of them showed techniques she could never even dream of replicating. And yet... he was going to teach her?

She shut her eyes, resolved to endure a little hardship — and threw herself at him.

A whole new world opened up.

It looked like hell, somehow... but she could survive this. Probably...?

By my own standards, had I not taught her with ample room to spare? Why such a reaction? And you — pull yourself together as well. Was it not a mere nineteen minutes? Hm. She fainted.