Former Hero Streamer – Chapter 100

“Hey, you can’t just do that here. You need to shove the surrounding stuff to block the door then dash to buy some time.”

“I thought I could just close the door and run right away.”

“That would do it. It’s a subtle trap; if you run away without knowing, you’ll get surrounded immediately.”

“Oh, you’re right. If I jump from here, done!”

“Nice job. We’re slowly reaching the ending scene.”

I patted Forming’s head as they struck a fighting pose shouting ‘Yes!’

[The ending scene is slowly forming up]

[The progress is quick… as expected from Forming…]

[Forming has always been good at games like this]

[Even before the escape, it was all like whoosh!]

[Ah, Forming has never escaped. Just took a two-year break.]

It had been three hours of swapping characters and replaying after each game over.

Forming, who got swapped in, smoothly defeated enemies one by one, clearing the scenario.

Unintentionally, I ended up just munching snacks while watching in spectator mode.

This type of horror game isn’t just about physical skills; it requires interpreting puzzles and various devices to proceed.

From Friede’s perspective, solely pushing through with physical prowess was more like a weak strategy.

“Using the camcorder mode to view the screen is kinda cumbersome. Other than that, it’s fine.”

“This way, you can properly understand the story.”

When recording with the camcorder, the protagonist shares their thoughts as monologues at specific locations or events.

The story’s branching points could change depending on how much footage has been recorded, which was a pretty interesting setup.

—Huff, huh!

The protagonist trudged forward, stained with despair and ruin.

They dove into the depths of the hospital, embroiled in all kinds of hardships to uncover the cause of their parents’ deaths.

Caught by a mad doctor, losing an ear, falling from a third floor, or being soaked in drugs—truly pushed to the extreme of ruin.

Moreover, the story’s atmosphere was becoming increasingly hopeless.

The only thing the protagonist could do in the end was erase the malevolent spirit encapsulated in the underground secret lab.

Hints that even if they succeeded, surviving would be tough, ominously echoed through the protagonist’s monologues and background.

As the story progressed, the protagonist’s actionable scope was severely restricted.

In the first stage, it was possible to crush crazed patients with a single bat, but against the ghosts or giant monsters appearing mid-game, they couldn’t even dream of fighting back; it was simply fleeing.

The game was designed like that.

There was a moment when pure physical skill was necessary in between, and that’s when they stepped in as a relief pitcher, but just that.

Thanks to that, Friede’s area of action shrunk, and they ended up being the one munching snacks beside the action.

Unlike the always bold and flashy Soul Warfare, watching Friede hunkered down in a spectator role showed a rather different charm.

[Bus passenger Friede ㄷㄷㄷ]

[Ride the bus, Friede… that’s pretty rare]

[Fighting like a tank in a horror game and then getting wrecked LOL]

[Prepare the popcorn, Friede!]

[I noticed it back when they were considering their parents’ funeral at the start of the game.]

[For real here…]

Perhaps it was that moment in time.

The chat was ready to bust a move at Friede’s powerless display.

If Pride had been an aloof person, they might have gotten mad, but all this is content, right?

Prominent figures showing a goofy side also has its own unique flavor.

“Ah, dead.”

I snapped out of my thoughts at Forming’s unfortunate exclamation.

The screen displayed the protagonist collapsing in the final boss fight alongside the game over message.

“From here, it’s all about physical skills. I’m absolutely lacking in that.”

Forming complained that the horror game was demanding way too much physical skill.

Thinking about how the difficulty had been ramped up, I just decided to stay quiet.

Alright then…

“Hero~ appears~!”

“Blood!”

I lightly pinched Forming’s cheek in response to the mockery as they adjusted their seat.

As we were getting ready to see the grand ending in the last boss fight, a new mission notification popped up.

“Hoordisnathing’s 100,000 won mission!


—Finish the first intro without getting hit by a ghost!”

Now that was a pretty provocative mission.

But there must be some certainty behind such a provocation.

Anyone who played Revizor would know it was absolutely destined to fail.

‘Maybe if you try dozens of times, then a first-time success might be possible.’

The only physical skill Friede had shown off in the game was muddled by this mission’s difficulty.

While the ghost’s attacks didn’t deal much damage, because there were so many, if you hesitated even for a moment, you’d get eaten up.

Plus, the map from the research lab to the control room was a nightmare.

Those narrow hallways with several levels of stairs and countless ghosts floating around were just cruel.

Dark depths made for a convoluted background that hindered clean gameplay.

It wasn’t easy to dodge in such a space, and a mission of not getting hit was a demand for quick judgment and speed from the player, making it an extremely harsh environment.

‘Not difficult.’

Biting into a cookie, I noticed Forming filled with curiosity while watching Friede prepare.

Of course, it was hard. The chances were virtually nonexistent.

Clearing it and not getting hit were two different things.

So the spectators who bidded on the mission and the others joyfully watching weren’t expecting Friede to succeed; they were more focused on how they would fail.

Ongoing failures turned the game streamer into a source of amusement.

No doubt, it’s a comforting element that had provided viewers with exhilarating joy over the years.

When Revizor came out, many criticized the game for placing an excessive demand on players from a physical perspective.

Yet it remained one of those games every game streamer had to pass through at least once.

Maybe that’s why.

‘This is fun.’

Yet, feeling a bit bad for Friede, I thought it felt like the highlight was being set up.

Even with failures or successes, the entertainment was guaranteed.

“Ha. This is enjoyable.”

It was a confident voice.

Brushing back their golden hair that flowed forward, they moistened their lips with a slightly stuck-out tongue.

“Accepted.”

[Sensei, you’re so confident]

[The one getting wrecked was you, huh?]

[Friede, getting crushed by the ghosts… kinda precious?]

They tightened their grip on the mouse.

As the screen transitioned to the final boss fight, Friede wasted no time pressing the Dash key.

At a glance, it looked like they were just running off without direction.

—Kyaaa!

A horde of ghosts charged at the protagonist with fierce howls.

Led by Friede, the protagonist sprinted toward the stairs.

*

*

*

[“This area feels a bit dangerous. I need to find an opening with the firebombs I collected last time.”]

[???]

[Wow, you can’t be serious]

[Seriously, can we really handle this physically?]

[Is it even possible to dodge in such a route?]

[Gameplay feels downright unnatural; their skills aren’t just casual.]

[Seeing that they achieved an immediate accomplishment, it doesn’t seem like they practiced secretly @@]

[Yeah yeah, it’s linked to the account, so even if you erase it, the achievement stays.]

[How did you pull that off, you crazy person?]

[For real, just dodged east, west, and then pounced in surprise.]

[100 power, 1 intellect; classic tank behavior.]

“Enough already.”

The fierce words that slipped from Eunha’s lips with a frown on her lovely forehead were exceedingly strong.

The nagging chat was undeniably annoying. I mean, what’s wrong with hitting a slight wall in strategy?

So, could you all do it better than Friede?

Those who couldn’t accept Friede’s adept clearing and were gnashing their teeth at her felt downright irritating.

“Who do you think you are to criticize?”

Shouldn’t they be amazed at such control on the highest difficulty?

Be it streaming or competitive games; the tradition of bronzes critiquing challengers was deeply rooted, but it still rubbed me the wrong way.

It felt as if Eunha herself was being scorned.

I wrote up a sentence to refute on the keyboard, but while repeatedly erasing it, the last boss fight quietly concluded.

In the chaotic and dizzying viewpoint, somewhere along the line, all the strategies were wrapped up, and the ending video started to play, just as Eunha received an upper notification.

What was that?

‘Just when I was trying to watch my sister’s stream.’

If I hadn’t known, fine, but since I got notified, I had to check it out.

When I opened the messenger, the room that rang was none other than the STK Team chat.

With a puzzled head, Eunha entered the chatroom, and a long message caught her eye.

It started like this.

[They say they’re holding another event before our event?]

“Another event?”

Again?