The Golden Blade Meets Emergency Maintenance
Anyone who’s deeply enjoyed online games this year has likely heard of—and probably experienced firsthand—a certain set of words. They’re known as the “Three Great Swords,” three blades whose very names make any player who loves the game tremble: Regular Maintenance, Emergency Maintenance, and Extended Maintenance. Their lineup is as flashy as it is dreaded.
Emergency maintenance will begin shortly to address an abnormal phenomenon detected in the current Bolekia Raid.
Of the three, the blade currently blocking Seongna’s party’s path was none other than Emergency Maintenance.
“Huh?”
“No way, why now of all times…!”
“What kind of maintenance is this all of a sudden?!”
Naturally, the Seongna Party was thrown into confusion. They had reached the 270th line of Imperial First Sword, Bolekia with zero casualties since the start. Did the flow really have to break here?
“Let’s just give it a shot. If we can’t clear the 270 line anyway, we might finish before maintenance hits.”
Though the situation was chaotic, the party focused on the raid once the raid leader’s order came down. No idle chatter followed—only concentrated play.
“It should be coming out soon…”
Bolekia scattered sword energy toward the players without pause. Most attacks were either blocked by Minji or dodged when guarding was impossible. The relentless assault continued in a dizzying rush.
……
Suddenly, Bolekia stopped attacking and sheathed its sword. It lowered its stance, placed a hand on the hilt, and assumed the unmistakable posture of a draw slash.
Caution: Bolekia’s sword is being dyed in golden light.
“Okay, the gimmick is coming!”
This was the first gimmick pattern Bolekia had shown since the opening. It was also the wall that no one had yet overcome—the highest barrier currently standing in their way.
“Who got the mark?”
The 270-line gimmick, nicknamed “Draw Slash,” began with Bolekia sheathing its sword and taking the draw stance. At the same time, a sword-shaped mark appeared on one living player. That mark was the key to clearing the pattern.
“Oh, it’s me.”
The mark had landed on Seongna. Given her unmatched confidence in Perfect Guard, the party had been blessed with good fortune. While the odds were low, if the same weak link kept drawing the mark, the pattern could theoretically become impossible to clear.
“Line up, everyone. Single file.”
“Okay, one by one…”
System: Only those with the courage to face it can block the golden sword energy. Good luck.
Exactly ten seconds after the mark appeared, Bolekia would fire sword energy at each player one by one. If the marked player blocked every single one, the pattern would be cleared. It sounded simple enough—until you realized the sword energy flew at absurd speeds, just like the rest of Bolekia’s patterns. And worse, fake sword energies—the Sword of Emptiness—were mixed in. Blocking those meant instant death.
When the Seongna Party first encountered this pattern, their reactions had been roughly like this:
“Huh? What’s this, a gimmick?”
“Why is it taking a draw stance all of a sudden?”
“Perfect Guard? Are we supposed to Perfect Guard this?”
“What the hell, seriously.”
They had scattered, been sliced apart one by one by the incoming sword energies, and finally wiped to the final wide slash that crossed the entire map. After that single attempt, the conclusion was obvious: spreading out was suicide. The sword energies targeted players individually, so if everyone stayed together, the directions would converge into one. Most parties would have needed several tries to notice that. The fact that Seongna’s group figured it out in one go proved just how much raid experience they had accumulated.
“It’s coming soon.”
Facing Bolekia head-on, the party lined up in single file. Minji, marked, stood at the very front. Everyone else followed in no particular order. After all, only the front mattered. The rest was secondary.
Bolekia’s hand trembles slightly. The attack seems about to begin.
Bolekia: “Block it if you can.”
With those first words Bolekia had spoken since the raid began, golden sword energy shot forward at terrifying speed. The Imperial First Sword’s slash, which had frustrated the party countless times, flew straight toward Seongna’s neck—
But—
Clang—!
The first sword energy was perfectly blocked by the saintess’s one-handed sword and scattered into the air.
“Good.”
“We can always trust Seongna-chan.”
In truth, this was the first time Minji herself had drawn the mark and faced the sword energy directly. Because the “Courage to Face It” mechanic chose targets randomly, it was entirely possible to go an entire run without ever getting marked. Until now she had only watched others fail and wondered, “Just how hard can it be if everyone keeps messing up?”
…But seriously, why was everyone failing something this easy?
Clang—!
“Hah!”
Clang—!
Clang—!
Bolekia kept firing sword energy until, at some point, it withdrew the golden light and launched a deep-blue blade instead.
“Fake!”
It was an obvious fishing pattern—attempting a Perfect Guard would trigger an explosion and instant death. The only way to clear it was to dodge.
“Okay, we got past it.”
“I was worried Seongna would try to Perfect Guard again.”
“She’s great at everything except that habit of moving her hands first…”
Okay, so maybe she did get caught by fishing patterns a lot. But she was doing really well right now, and they were still teasing her? She was half-tempted to mess up on purpose. Still, she owed the party for the time she had ruined an entire day, so she would try her best today.
Clang—!
“Whoa, we cleared it, damn!”
“Seongna, that crazy girl—she’s literally the god of Perfect Guard!”
Having blocked the final sword energy, the Seongna Party succeeded in clearing the first gimmick.
Imperial First Sword, Bolekia [X265]
A perfect start on day three—clearing the third gate’s health record on their very first try. But—
Connection to the server has been lost.
“Ah.”
The heat that had been rising was instantly doused. Emergency maintenance had arrived.
Because of the emergency maintenance, the Bolekia raid had to be paused. No matter how skilled the players were, a single snap of the game company’s fingers left them powerless. Of course, if the maintenance lacked a legitimate reason, there would be backlash later—but right now they had the perfect excuse of “maintenance.”
As annoying as it was, there was nothing the Seongna Party could do about it.
“The timing is really unfortunate… We might’ve actually cleared it on that last try.”
At least they could still complain.
Raids whose strategies weren’t fully developed were like marathons that endlessly consumed time and stamina. When the difficulty was high, most attempts turned into endurance battles. To have the most promising run cut short like this was bound to affect morale.
Still, there was one silver lining—
“So what do we do now? Maintenance will take at least thirty minutes.”
“Yeah… Should we eat something?”
“I already ordered chicken, just in case.”
“Wow, chicken this early in the morning? Are you a pig?”
“Ryong-gak-chan, if you say stuff like that you might actually die.”
Perhaps after surviving the greatest hardship march in history, even this level of setback barely scratched the mental fortitude of these gaming addicts.
“Zzz…”
Minji, whose condition had been the worst among them, immediately dove into bed the moment maintenance started and passed out.
Thus, an unexpected break was granted to the Seongna Party while maintenance ran.
“Oh, right. Eder oppa, you’re going to the platform’s year-end event, right?”
“Hmm… I’ll probably go. I got the invitation email.”
Complaints lasted only a moment before they moved on to rest and casual chatter. Then a tempting phrase caught their attention: “Platform year-end event?” What was that?
“Huh? What’s that?”
“Ah, it’s an event the streaming platform holds every year-end. Think of it like a broadcasting station’s entertainment awards, but for internet streamers.”
Come to think of it, there was something they had completely forgotten while focused on the Bolekia raid. The new year was approaching. The day that marked the end of one year and the beginning of another was less than a week away.
“Wow… I had no idea because I’ve been holed up at home all day.”
“Go outside once in a while.”
“Is that something you should be saying, Ryong-gak-chan?”
“I-I do go out.”
“Liar! We all know you never leave the house!”
The realization that this year was ending cast a heavy atmosphere over the party—especially over the “Doomsday Gallery” members like Baek Ryong-gak, Podomat Sachang, and Dalnun.
Another year was already gone. What had they even done? It felt like they had just eaten and played games at home every day.
“Oh, um… Eun-ha! Did you get the email?”
Unable to watch the mood sink any further, Suha stepped in to salvage the situation. These people were usually so loud—why had they suddenly become so deflated?
“Huh? M-mail? You mean the email?”
“Eun-ha-chan, if you keep getting flustered your concept breaks. Pull yourself together.”
“U-understood.”
“The platform sends out year-end event invitations via email. You probably got one too, Eun-ha. They only send them to streamers with a certain level of scale, but you’re definitely qualified.”
“Me…? I’m not at that level… Wait, does the great one qualify?”
“Yes. With your numbers, you’re a strong candidate for Rookie of the Year.”
The platform’s year-end event was essentially the internet-streaming version of a broadcasting awards show. There were categories for each field, and they selected nominees before choosing winners. One of those categories was “Rookie of the Year,” awarded to streamers who debuted that year.
Even though Baek Eun-ha had only been streaming for less than two months, maintaining an average of a thousand viewers made her more than qualified for the nomination.
Of course—
“But… isn’t the winner already decided?”
Among the Rookie of the Year nominees, there was one overwhelmingly strong candidate.
“Well… that’s true.”
However, there was one problem.
“If she doesn’t attend the event, someone else will receive the award instead.”
“Ah.”
“That’s true.”
No one could predict whether that girl would willingly participate in the event or not. Absurdly enough, the fate of the Rookie Award rested entirely on Minji’s decision.
“Zzzzz….”