The Art of Stealing Victory

Who are you, you ask? Lately, the number of people playing as Alchemists has shot up. The last time they patched Arcade Mode, a balance update came with it. The Puppeteer, Magic Engineer, and Alchemist all received buffs.

For the Alchemist, the improvements focused on item crafting, damage output, and their ultimate ability. Compared to a classic supporter like a Saintess, the Alchemist wasn’t very intuitive. On the flip side, that also meant the Alchemist was a versatile, high-skill-ceiling character.

Higher-ranked players favored the class far more than lower ranks. Any slight difficulty could be overcome with raw skill, and its adaptability across situations combined with surprisingly strong offensive power for a support role made it incredibly appealing.

What I was getting at was that the current meta was excellent for me, someone playing as the Phantom Thief.

“Steal.”

I slipped behind the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Alchemist and activated the skill immediately. The bombs and reagents an Alchemist created through their abilities were all treated as items. That meant they could be shared with teammates or stolen by the enemy. Naturally, Steal worked on them too.

Fire-attribute bomb.

What I’d learned from fighting Alchemists was that most players barely knew anything about the Phantom Thief. The class had always been unpopular, and it hadn’t received a single balance patch for a very long time. It was what people called a “craftsman’s character.” As a result, few players had faced it often, and even fewer knew how to counter it.

If they’d ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stacked water-attribute reagents, they could have handled this.

But what I stole wasn’t a reagent. It was a bomb. After checking its type, I hurled it straight into the enemy formation.

I seized the Alchemist in front of me by the neck. The Phantom Thief had one overwhelming strength: skill cooldowns reset on kills. The problem was that its only skills were the support abilities Steal and Ghost Step. In other words, it suffered from the dilemma of needing kills while lacking the damage to secure them reliably.

I had no choice but to snap the Alchemist’s neck.

Crack.

The chat reactions I caught were so absurd I nearly laughed. Marine Corps suspicion? Had there been a rumor like that? Sorry, but it was completely false.

With my cooldowns reset, I activated Ghost Step again and stole the incoming Spearman’s spear with Steal. Thanks to the cooldown reset on kill participation, the Phantom Thief had a slight snowballing tendency. It wasn’t perfectly optimized for it, but it was there.

While I kept stealing enemy weapons and fighting, the word “Victory” suddenly appeared before my eyes.

“Oh my.”

While I was stalling for time, the main allied force must have taken down the boss. We got lucky with the team this match. A satisfying victory. Satisfying rank points earned.

But the road ahead was still long. Back in the waiting room, I happily prepared for the next queue.

I was about to queue again when Chell’s voice rang out.

“The viewers are complaining because you won’t turn on your broadcast.”

“[Can I turn it on at Lora’s house?]”

“You really don’t plan on going home, do you? So, we have a guest?”

“[Yes.]”

Chell answered shortly. She gave no extra details about who the guest was or why she couldn’t handle it herself and had to call me instead. That complete lack of explanation was pure Chell.

Quietly doing her own work was one of Chell’s strengths, but the total absence of communication was definitely a flaw.

If I’m going to hire a housekeeper, someone like Leon or Sora would be much better.

Both of them had a tendency to nag, but that was still preferable to Chell’s near-silence. I realized it all over again.

“I’ll step out, so wait here a moment.”

The viewers said whatever they wanted, but it wasn’t going to happen. I switched the broadcast to the waiting screen and exited the VR capsule.

The person waiting for me the moment I stepped out was Sora.

“Oh my, if it isn’t Sora.”

“Why is Chell here?”

Those were Sora’s first words.

“It’s been quite a while since Chell decided to camp out at our house.”

“I’ve been so busy lately I couldn’t even check your stream.”

“Were you that busy?”

“There’s… that.”

Sora spoke with a strangely embarrassed expression. What was that about?

“…Never mind. That aside, aren’t you streaming way too long? Did you know you’ve been live for over a hundred hours straight?”

“Has it really been that long already?”

Gate Attack Mode had a time-acceleration system, so my sense of time had inevitably become distorted.

“It has. You’ll ruin your health at this rate.”

Sora’s voice was full of concern. When I glanced at her left hand, I saw a plastic bag. The label showed she had bought porridge on the way here.

Come to think of it, no one around me knows about my actual physical abilities.

People thought of me as a short sleeper. That wasn’t entirely wrong, but it wasn’t exactly accurate either. My homeland—if I could even call it that—had been an RPG world. After being exposed to dungeon and gate mana and hunting countless demonic beasts, I had gained an enormous amount of experience. When I defeated the hidden boss, I must have reached an absurd level. Probably well over three hundred.

Although I was still classified as human, this body that had reached level three hundred had already transcended humanity. Calling it a monster would not be an exaggeration.

“Thank you for worrying, but I’m truly fine.”

What I was trying to say was that my body should not be measured by human common sense. It would be more accurate to think of me as something that simply wore human form. That was why sleeping only four hours a day felt perfectly comfortable, and even that was merely a preference. I could easily go five days without sleep, and if I took a ten-minute nap each day, I could probably last an entire month without issue.

“Fine? Nothing about this is fine. Seriously…”

Of course, explaining my condition to others was difficult.

“Then let’s do this. Since you’re already here, you take over the broadcast. I’ll take a short nap in the meantime.”

We settled on that. I didn’t actually need sleep, but I would soon hit the login restriction timer anyway. Resetting the restriction early while also easing Sora’s worries would be killing two birds with one stone. Most of all, convincing Sora was simply too much effort.

“Fine. You really are high-maintenance, you know…”

Ten minutes later, I had set up the tracking phones for myself, Sora, and Chell on the PC.

“What are they even saying?”

Sora stared at the chaotic chat with an exasperated expression. I adjusted the microphone and spoke.

“As you can see, Sora has come over to visit our house.”

After saying that, I immediately picked up a spoon. I had planned to hand the stream over to Sora and go straight to sleep, but since she had brought porridge, I decided to eat first. I wasn’t particularly hungry, but warm food should be eaten while it’s warm.

While I ate, I gave the viewers a brief explanation of the situation. Once the porridge was finished, I would get up right away.

Since there were demands like that, I turned on the webcam for fun. Of course, the only thing on camera was the porridge. If our faces were ever shown, we would all have to retire together. That was why I had fixed the webcam in place so it would never capture our faces or hands. I was wearing gloves, but I still didn’t want them filmed. Some viewers would scold me for breaking immersion.

I moved the spoon carefully so my hand wouldn’t appear on camera.

“I got worried because Lora kept streaming… but she seems completely fine.”

“So there’s no need to worry at all.”

“Still, once you finish that, go sleep. Who in the world streams for a hundred hours straight?”

“Right here.”

I smiled brightly, but Sora only sighed.

“Why are you pushing yourself this hard with streaming anyway?”

“Of course it’s to apply for the Fantasy League.”

“Can’t you just submit an application? I thought they picked one person per tier.”

Sora tilted her head. It seemed she had read the participation requirements once.

“You only know the surface details. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The reality is rather complicated.”

I moved the mouse and brought up a website on the broadcast screen.

“Right now I’m Diamond in both Gate Attack Mode and Single Combat. So at this point I should be placed in Tier 2.”

Of course my Arcade Mode matches and win rate were also high, so there was a chance the bonus points could push me into Tier 1. However, I didn’t want to rely on that uncertainty. If I was going to do this, I wanted to be firmly in Tier 1.

“Is there a reason you’re so fixated on Tier 1? Wouldn’t Tier 2 be fine?”

“The higher the tier, the higher the chance of being selected.”

“Huh? Why? They pick one from each tier, so the odds should be the same, right?”

“The number of applicants differs by tier.”

Naturally, there were far fewer Master players than Diamond players. Among Master-rank streamers, the proportion of women was extremely low. And among female Master-rank streamers, VTubers were even rarer.

“…So higher tiers give you better odds. That’s not easy…”

Sora muttered.

And although I won’t say it on stream…

To be picked in the draft, rank and skill weren’t the only important factors. Subscriber count mattered more than expected. More precisely, “name recognition” was what counted.

“If the higher tiers are responsible for carrying the team, the lower tiers are responsible for the team’s atmosphere.”

“You have to keep the team happy and make the team popular.”

“Because the Fantasy League earns revenue through merchandise sales.”

That was what Rinko had explained. Each team would have one Master and one Diamond. They would serve as the team’s aces, leading the squad. Conversely, every team would also have one Bronze, Silver, or Gold player. Their chance of becoming an ace was extremely low, and they might not contribute much to victory.

If they weren’t going to help win, it was better to bring in a popular streamer instead.

“Of course popularity isn’t ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠everything. There have been cases where streamers with only a thousand subscribers passed the draft.”

“But for that, you need a strong character concept and the ability to create a good atmosphere with your teammates.”

“The role is to make people think, ‘Ah, this team looks fun. I should become a fan of this team!’”

“In that sense, subscriber count serves as important ‘insurance.’”

“They have popularity, they’re entertaining, and they definitely won’t suddenly disappear mid-tournament, right?”

“How could anyone draft an indie VTuber with only a hundred subscribers? If they vanished during the event, who would take responsibility?”

From what I heard, the Fantasy League was a competition tangled with many different interests. That was only natural. Game companies, the pro gaming industry, and the streaming industry all had their own agendas for participating. Therefore, the most important thing was for the event to succeed and not fail.

In that sense, subscriber count was the most direct measure of marketability and also served as a streamer’s credit rating.

My current subscriber count had surpassed two hundred thousand. It wasn’t small, but compared to major VTubers like “Serenade of 11 PM” or “Horizon Air,” I was still behind. After all, I had only debuted three months ago, and EYEAI was only a mid-sized agency.

“That’s why I plan to focus solely on Labyrinthos for a while without resting. I want to secure Tier 1 for sure.”

“I get it, so once you finish eating that, you have to sleep. I’ll watch to make sure you do.”

Sora crossed her arms as she spoke. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Um, who are you?”

And while I was sleeping, a guest had arrived. For reference, that guest’s real name was Jeon Sojin. She had apparently become worried after seeing that I was streaming for over a hundred hours straight.

Her VTuber name was Shiroki Anna, but there was no way Sora, who had greeted the guest, would have known that. After all, the two of them were meeting in real life for the first time.

“…Who are you, for that matter?”

It seemed a strange atmosphere had formed between Sora and Anna, but there was no way I could have known about it. I was asleep, after all.