Fenrir Translations
"What the hell... What is this...?"
Hell.
A word that every South Korean, regardless of age or gender, has uttered at least once, a magical phrase that can express all the emotions and experiences of life.
As a Korean, one must be able to instantly distinguish the emotions conveyed through this word, and most people could do so effortlessly.
Everyone in the chat knew.
The recent curse came from a complete loss of understanding.
A deep, primal sigh.
But the body naturally moved to replay the video of the recent match. There was no need to review the early stages, so the playback was sped up, focusing on the moments just before death.
Spectator mode.
The overhead view showed both the player's and the enemy's movements clearly.
Bullets riddled the car, and flames began to rise from the hood. The past self, who had slowed down and gotten out of the vehicle, headed towards the opponent, who was leisurely setting up traps on the second floor of the house.
Meanwhile, the enemy was tying a fishing line to the trigger of a gun and then quietly moved into the next room, pulling the line to spray bullets into the air.
"Wow, really... I should've just fled instead of charging in. Ugh..."
The screen continued to move.
The enemy had already set up fishing lines all over the second-floor entryways. Not just once, but crossing them at least four times to ensure the target would trip, just like in the movies.
It was designed to make sure the human-shaped entity would definitely fall.
What happened next was predictable.
Kato, carefully ascending the stairs, tripped over the fishing line tightly secured to nearby furniture, fell down, and let out a low groan mixed with a heavy thud that echoed through the space.
At the same time, the enemy's avatar appeared.
Since he couldn’t even move his neck due to his death, this was the first time Kato had truly seen his opponent.
Delicate facial features paired oddly with a long, snake-like tail.
The fully armed enemy cautiously approached, wrapping the fishing line around their hand, then used their tail to bind Kato's legs, immobilizing him, and began to strangle him.
With a smooth, melodious voice, they tightened the fishing line with one hand and, with the other, drew a pistol from a holster and aimed it at Kato's head.
Bang.
And thus, the promotion match came to an end.
"What the hell...?"
Kato muttered in disbelief, but did he know?
That this was just the beginning.
[Notice: You have been promoted to TIER 2!]
[Notice: You are now eligible to apply for the Asia Qualifiers. You can submit your application in the main lobby based on your current tournament rank.]
"...Somehow, I've made it up here in about ten days. I think it's thanks to all the support from everyone. I want to thank all the viewers."
Tier 2.
Had it taken a bit more than ten days, or less? Honestly, I didn't pay attention to how long it took since I had been climbing the ranks almost mindlessly, without a clear goal.
In Dark Zone, the promotion to Apex Predator is basically about accumulating a certain RP within a certain number of games.
The number of games required to achieve the necessary RP could increase or decrease depending on one's past performance. In my case, it was minimal, almost as if it seemed impossible, as the chat said.
Anyway, the number of promotion matches I was given was three.
According to the brief information provided before starting a game, I needed to secure first place in three consecutive matches with at least seven kills each time to secure the necessary RP.
Ironically, it wasn't that difficult.
12 hours and 36 minutes.
That was the total broadcast time for today. Unlike usual, where I would run around the map sweeping up other players, lately, I had been playing a bit more cautiously, so each game took a bit longer.
Physically, I could still endure, but mentally, I was not in the best condition. Taking a deep breath, I logged out of Dark Zone and switched to a private booth.
I sank deeply into the incredibly soft chair and spoke.
"I'll stop Dark Zone here. I'm quite tired."
As I stared at the ceiling, with the chat slowly fading, one thought crossed my mind.
Come to think of it, have I ever done a proper interaction stream with my viewers...? It's hard to say for sure, but maybe, maybe not. It could go either way.
But in another sense, it was an ambiguous situation. Compared to the "just chatting" streams of other streamers on platforms like YourSpace, well, not sure.
But when I think about what I should do, it's also unclear.
<YourBanana has donated 1,000 won.>
"...No, I'm not sleeping."
The voice that came out was a bit more subdued than usual.
After a moment of thought, I decided to just be honest.
"It's nothing really, but when I think about it, I don't think I've had a proper interaction with you guys. You might misunderstand, but it's not because I don't want to talk to you; it's just that I don't know what to do."
...Scary, so scary.
I thought everyone was just focused on my gameplay, but it turns out they were just holding back. The way they’re pouncing now feels like opening a gas valve.
I excused myself to get a drink of water. If you don't stretch and hydrate every hour, your body quickly tires out. Just like bedsores develop from lying in the same position too long.
After thoroughly spraying my body and tail with a mist of water and returning to my private booth, I found a flood of questions waiting.
Let’s go through them one by one.
<Q: Please tell us your avatar's three sizes.>
"...The first question is ridiculous. Do you really have to be curious about this?"
Without even needing to see, I skipped this question.
Moreover, this is my avatar, but also my body, so there's no reason to share this information. Since I've never revealed my real appearance to anyone, I need to be extra cautious.
As I moved on from the question, the money attached to it started to climb, but naturally, I ignored it.
Next question.
<Q: What are your height and weight?>
"...My height is 171 cm. I can't tell you my weight."
"I’m telling you this so there's no misunderstanding: My body is quite unique, so revealing my weight could expose too much personal information. I’d appreciate it if you understand that."
Then came the next question.
<Q: Teacher, are you an Emergent?>
"No comment. I think my previous answer should tell you everything you need to know."
There was no reason to hide this part.
Among the few chatters, some were worried about me impersonating an Emergent, but there was no need for concern. If I were impersonating, I'd face the wrath of the law soon enough.
I considered taking more questions, but knowing that I couldn't just fill time with a Q&A forever, I decided to start talking about something else.
What would be good?
...Ah, I know.
"Come to think of it, I recently got a message from Harmony. Just a normal check-in and... what was it? She suggested that I try out a game called Jump Master. It’s a game about rescuing a pretty girl character from the top."
The reaction was immediate.
How should I describe this?
If I put it harshly, the reaction was like an insect hit with pesticide. If I’m being polite, it was like an electric shock. In either case, this wasn't a reaction you’d expect towards a streamer.
But thinking about it the other way around, I was quite curious. Just what kind of game is this that they hate it so much?—Though it felt more like "It's finally happening" rather than outright dislike.
Moreover, it seems like it’s more about me suffering through the game than the viewers. From that perspective, this reaction is probably just them playfully blaming Harmony for recommending it.
In any case, their intense protests only made me more curious about the game.
So I spoke, using Harmony as a shield.
"Still, since it was a recommended game, if I stream tomorrow, I’ll play it for about an hour."
With that, I concluded today's stream amidst a variety of reactions—mostly desperate pleas for me not to go down that road.
Thinking about it, I didn’t really communicate much, but this was nice in its own way.
With that loose thought, another day came to an end.
It was a productive day.
nice