Three-Delicacies Fried Rice

Even thinking back on it now, the only word for that level of skill was astonishing.

Deliberately throwing herself into the opponent's guard, then riding that very momentum to move with it and land a counterattack.

Seyul had no idea how it worked, and even if she could have done it, she doubted she could pull it off in her right mind.

And yet she had executed that technique dozens of times over.

One or two strikes weren't enough to leave a real mark on the Orc Chieftain, so she had been forced to hammer the same spots again and again to concentrate the damage. The wounds she'd barely managed to carve out weren't enough one at a time — she had to make several.

Having watched the madness succeed with their own two eyes, the viewer who'd been riled up had to concede the point — and sent the donation along with it.

"No... no, it's true."

The Orc Chieftain, who had taken the blows firsthand, felt the same.

Blood streamed from the countless wounds scattered across his body from that unbroken chain of strikes.

Before long, he'd bleed out and die.

Because he understood his own condition perfectly, he acknowledged Seyul's skill.

"I still have things I'd like to say, but in the world of monsters, strength is everything. You beat me, so whatever you say, I'll accept it."

"You're handing out the 'well, if you say so' routine pretty generously there."

Seyul looked down coolly at the kneeling Orc Chieftain.

Even on his knees, he was still larger than she was.

Gazing up at the barbarian warrior who had once seemed like a giant, an old memory stirred.

Well, to be fair, nobody rewrites their entire worldview the instant they lose.

The strong ones she'd met in the Another World had been the same.

Unless someone was small-minded, losing to another's strength didn't make them flip their beliefs on the spot. Most stood proud right up until the moment they died.

Seyul had always considered that the natural way of things.

If you claimed to believe in something and then swapped it out the moment an opponent's power overwhelmed you — wasn't that itself a surrender to strength?

To argue that conviction outweighs power, you crush the other person, and then... if you forced them to change their mind because they bent to your power, the words and the deed were a walking contradiction.

That was why Seyul had never tried to grind the reluctant Orc Chieftain into true submission.

It didn't matter anyway.

The reason she'd argued that conviction wasn't meaningless in the face of power was never to make the other side listen to her.

It was something she'd said for herself.

"Would you like me to make it easy on you?"

Instead, Seyul asked the Orc Chieftain.

Left as he was, he would die regardless. But she had no wish to see him die in agony.

"If you want, I'll end it in one stroke."

"If you'd do that, I'm grateful. Dying on your spear is a far more warrior-like death than bleeding out here like this."

The Orc Chieftain accepted the offer without a trace of sarcasm — he genuinely meant it. However...

"Before you kill me, there's something I'd like you to take."

The Orc Chieftain was not planning to die just yet.

As Seyul gripped her spear, he called for a moment and held something out.

"A Mana Cultivation Manual?"

When Seyul looked, she found the name she'd heard moments ago written across it.

"Don't tell me this is—"

"It is. The human tome I stole so that I could learn mana."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The Orc Chieftain continued in an even voice.

"This is what made me strong, whatever else you say, so I carried it close to my chest always. If it's acceptable, would you take it?"

"Why?"

"Because it would be a waste. I'm dying here either way — what good is holding onto it? Better to pass it to a warrior with a promising future."

The Orc Chieftain harbored no self-interest whatsoever.

A book destined to become scrap paper, and a Seyul who performed feats like this even without mana. It was a double waste, and that was why he offered up the book written with the art of wielding mana.

Everyone was certain Seyul would refuse the Orc Chieftain's offer.

This was the woman who'd turned down gods offering her everything under the sun.

And the mana cultivation manual the Orc Chieftain was handing over wasn't even particularly good.

It did drop if you killed the early Orc Chieftain, but it was such trash that nobody ever bothered learning it.

And yet—

"If you're offering, I'll gratefully accept."

Upending every expectation, Seyul took the book.

The chat window plunged into unforeseen shock and terror.

Seyul knew nothing of their existence, but as if answering them in spite of herself, she explained her reasoning.

"There's no reason to refuse a kindness offered purely by someone on their deathbed."

The other party was different from the gods who had tried to control her using power as leverage.

Compassion for one who was dying.

And a pure, unadorned kindness.

Because there was no agenda behind it at all, she accepted.

Chaos broke loose in the chat, but there was no way Seyul could know.

The moment she silently accepted the book, it transformed into light and seeped into her.

The book had been a kind of skill book, and with her consent, accepting it automatically granted her mana the moment it touched her hands.

For the first time ever, Seyul had acquired something — and the very viewers who should have been celebrating were thoroughly underwhelmed.

It was like watching her learn the most basic starter skill ages after she should have had it. There was simply nothing to cheer about.

"Farewell."

With the final request settled, Seyul drove her spear in without hesitation.

The body of the Orc Chieftain, already on death's doorstep, gave way easily.

She pierced his heart precisely and sent him off in a single stroke.

It's been a while. This feeling.

With everything finished, Seyul looked up at the sky.

Facing an enemy who meant to kill her, fighting back, and prevailing.

And then, just as she had taken the book, exchanging a small but genuine meeting of hearts along the way.

In the Another World, she'd been through this countless times.

Except back there, she hadn't been mature enough to receive such things this gracefully.

Today was the first time she'd handled the whole affair smartly, and for that alone, entering virtual reality had felt worthwhile.

I'm getting more and more excited.

She wondered what awaited her going forward — and how close it would all come to the Another World.

Just as Seyul, hope blooming in her chest, was about to continue down her path—

"Oppa, stop playing and come eat!"

The voice came abruptly from outside, and she stopped in her tracks.

"We're ordering from the Chinese place today — what do you want, oppa? Tell me quick!"

It was Semi, calling from the real world for dinner.

Should I call it a day?

At her little sister's summons, Seyul deliberated.

She'd meant to keep going, but if it was time to eat, there was no arguing.

Besides, no matter how much she missed it, playing the game for too long wasn't good for her.

"I want three-delicacies fried rice!"

She called out her order and logged off.

And then—

The broadcast ended as naturally as it began, but even after a stream ends, chatting remains possible.

The chat window was buried under an avalanche of shouting and wailing.

She'd happened to mention three-delicacies fried rice right at the cut, and viewers baffled by the non sequitur were everywhere.

Some viewers felt thoroughly toyed with.

If only to watch Seyul crash and burn, they resolved to catch her next stream no matter what.

These viewers, along with those who were simply and honestly curious, all hit the subscribe button.

And without Seyul ever knowing, the number of subscribers waiting to watch her stream blew past one hundred in the blink of an eye.

God's Warrior.

The very first virtual reality game ever released.

Beyond carrying the "first" title, the gameplay itself was solid. It had earned a place among the masterpieces, and its fanbase was large.

Plenty of other VR games had come out since, so it wasn't as if it hadn't faded somewhat into the background.

But today.

Out of nowhere, commotion erupted around the long-quiet game.

Posts had suddenly appeared across every game-related site.

The claim: a brand-new route, never before known, had been discovered in God's Warrior.

Had only a single post gone up, it would have been dismissed as nonsense.

But when witnesses started posting from all over, the story changed.

Fans hovered between belief and doubt as they combed through the details, and—

"Today, for the first time in four years, we're playing the newly discovered Divine Sword route!"

A major streamer took the bait.

"Hello everyone, Human Paladin here."

This was a man who fired up God's Warrior and broadcast it live.

Going by the handle Human Paladin, he was a streamer whose main content was virtual reality games.

A handsome face, impeccable manners, and respectable game skills — he was famous for all three.

With an average viewership north of ten thousand, he was a top-tier streamer, and the moment he heard the whole internet buzzing about the new route, he sprang into action.

"Let me get to the conclusion first: the Divine Sword route everyone's arguing about. I ran the experiment exactly as described in the posts, and — it's been confirmed. It's real!"

Human Paladin declared it to his viewers with full force.

He had pre-edited footage of himself retracing Seyul's exact steps, and played it for his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠audience.

Human Paladin's viewers watched the video and voiced their astonishment.

Unable to withstand the chorus of his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠audience, Human Paladin revealed the item's stats.

"As you can see, even though the weapon's grade is 1 — nearly the lowest tier possible — its attack power and durability are several times higher than other weapons of the same grade. And it comes with five separate special abilities on top of that."

God's Warrior players who saw the revealed stats fell silent, jaws agape, in perfect unison.

The performance was absurdly good — and it was a growth-type item besides.

An item this good would only grow stronger with time!

Some of the viewers had actually watched Seyul's stream live back then.

They found her rejection of an item this magnificent absurd — and at the same time, a faint trace of worry crossed their faces.

There was no rule against following a route someone else discovered — but this one could launch even a nobody to stardom overnight, and a major streamer had just claimed it as broadcast content.

Handled carelessly, the big-name streamer could end up mired in controversy for being shameless, and everyone voiced their concern.

"Ah — my apologies. Seyul? If you're watching, please contact me later. If this becomes an issue, I'll issue a formal apology."

Human Paladin, a God's Warrior fan himself, had gotten swept up in the excitement and broadcast before thinking it through. Only afterward did it dawn on him that this might be a problem, and he apologized.

"I do intend to play this new route myself, but I am not the one who found it. If you visit this address, you'll find them. The stream has ended for now, but they go by Seyul—"

He went on to firmly credit Seyul as the discoverer, slipping in some indirect advertising as he did.

He didn't know who this person was, but since they streamed, having plenty of viewers probably meant they'd welcome the exposure.

The calculation was simple: someone would hardly be upset to have a top streamer advertise them to ten thousand viewers.

And so—

The next day.

The moment Seyul started the game.

Over a hundred had gathered the day before — now, ten times that number swarmed in within seconds.