Take Lust, for example. The local succubi and demonesses seriously fancied themselves the queens of depravity. Naive little pixel cuties! They should have caught a glimpse of Kary’s lingerie. It wasn't just lace; it was a true engineering marvel designed to hold strategically important objects in place while revealing to the viewer exactly as much as necessary to make the average schoolboy's hand reach instinctively for his mom’s credit card. As Kary loved to tease her audience: "Watch closely, maybe the camera will catch the right angle when I jump."
Vanity? Oh, Kary could give any narcissist a run for their money. She considered herself better than everyone else, and that fact was non-negotiable. Amidst the grayness of the local Middle Ages, she shone like a neon sign for an elite club in the middle of a frozen wilderness. The mirror from her inventory’s quick-slot was used more often than the world map or healing potions.
Envy? Absolutely. Karina envied everyone who had more subscribers than her. She was ready to tear the throats out of top streamers with a hundred thousand viewers while she herself trudged through the mud in "Gucci-RPG" boots. She got grumpy over a low like count and flew into a rage if the donation bar for "New Nails" filled up too slowly.
And then there was Gluttony. Kary loved to eat for three. If it weren't for the cranked-up metabolism of a high-level Seeker and the calorie-burning cardio of lugging around a two-handed sword, she wouldn't have fit in the frame long ago, and her luscious curves would have turned into a shapeless mass.
— "Hey, Dronny, lower!" the girl commanded, adjusting her dress strap. "Even lower. Give them a close-up of the thigh while we’re walking. They’re bored of looking at the scenery."
The small magical sphere acting as her cameraman obediently descended. Its lens—a glowing blue eye—stared shamelessly at the slit in her dress. It was an utterly impractical, idiotic outfit for combat, but a damn beautiful one: black lace (bought with her starting coins instead of armor, naturally), a corset cinching her waist until she could barely breathe, and a skirt that revealed far more than it concealed.
Above Kary’s head, like the halo of a fallen angel, hung a translucent holographic chat screen. The lines scrolled at a frantic pace, visible only to her eyes.
[xX_Pwnzor_Xx]: Ohhh mama! Look at that view! Screenshot taken.
[ElfLover99]: Kary, be careful, a tick might bite you there! On such a tender thigh... I’d bite it myself.
[Paladin_of_Light]: I condemn this. Where is the armor? Where are the plates? The first goblin you meet is gonna one-shot you. You’re level 6, hello!
[Rich_Daddy]: Here’s something for your sword grease, babe.
[System Message: User Rich_Daddy has donated 500 Gold Coins!]
The notification made Kary break into a professional smile. A golden flash of special effects illuminated the dusty road, highlighting the heroine's profile.
— "Thanks, Daddy!" she blew a kiss to the camera, leaning forward slightly so her cleavage occupied most of the frame. "Armor is for cowards, Paladin. I have style and evasion. And, of course, your love! Oh, and this sword, obviously."
She winked, then with a practiced motion, adjusted the massive two-handed sword on her shoulder. "The Dragon Slayer." A strange thing. Kary had found this sword in her "inheritance chest" during character creation and took it simply because it looked cool. It looked like a piece of a railroad track sharpened by a perfectionist maniac. It probably weighed about eighty kilograms, but for some reason, Kary felt it was no heavier than a handbag. The contrast between her fragile, lace-clad figure and this machine of death served as the perfect marketing hook, reeling in half her audience. Kary herself had no idea she was holding a legendary weapon capable of crushing mountains. To her, it was just a "big heavy stick."
— "By the way, chat," Kary stepped over a puddle, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "You won't believe how terrible the humidity is here. My hair is staying up purely on a wing and a prayer and some 'Miracle' hairspray. If it starts raining, I’ll have to cut the stream; I won't let you see me looking like a drowned rat. Although..."
She narrowed her eyes slyly, looking straight into the lens as if peering into the soul of every viewer.
— "...if we hit fifty thousand in donations over the next half hour, maybe we’ll have a wet T-shirt contest? Hmm?"
The chat exploded with eggplant emojis and all-caps text. Karina mentally rubbed her hands together: the bait had worked perfectly.
They had been walking along the road for about an hour. Deadly boring. Around them was a typical middle-of-the-road fantasy forest: fir trees, birches, bushes with suspicious-looking berries. A location for noobs, the "Whispering Woods." Even the rabbits here didn't look aggressive; they just looked depressed.
— "By the way, did you notice? I have new nail polish. The shade is 'Blood of Defeated Slimes'."
She stretched her hand toward the camera, splaying her fingers. The drone obediently took a macro shot, focusing on the flawless manicure.
— "Matches the sword hilt perfectly, right? Took me half an hour to choose it in the system shop. Cost me my last ten coins, the stingy thing. So, who was complaining about overspending? This is an investment in content!"
Suddenly, the wind changed. Instead of the smell of damp leaves and Kary’s perfume (the fragrance "Fatal Cherry"), a sharp, acrid stench hit her nose.
Burning.
Kary stopped, sniffing the air dramatically.
— "Do you smell that, chat?" she frowned, trying to look concerned without creating unnecessary wrinkles on her forehead. "Smells like a BBQ. Or..."
She gazed into the distance. A thick pillar of black smoke was rising above the treetops.
[System_Alert]: Warning! Local conflict zone detected. Village of 'Quiet Willows' (Level 3-5) is under attack.
[Quest: Save the Survivors (0/???)]
[Reward: Reputation +50, XP +200, Potato Sack (Rarity: Common)]
— "Jackpot!" Kary snapped her fingers loudly. "Content incoming!"
She opened the quest interface and grimaced in dissatisfaction.
— "Two hundred XP? System, are you serious? I spend more mana on my makeup than I’ll get for this quest. And the item? A potato sack? What am I, a farmer? Where are the epics? Where are the legendaries?"
[LogicBoy]: Kary, it’s a noob zone. They only give out potatoes and kicks in the butt.
[Sadist666]: Show us some guts! I want blood!
[WhiteKnight]: Run, quickly! You must save them! It’s a hero's duty!
— "Oh, please, 'duty' my foot," the girl rolled her eyes, tucking away a stray lock of hair. "They aren't going anywhere in a couple of minutes. I need to get ready. Dronny, 'Action-Cinematic' mode. Max stabilization. If I’m going to be chopping heads, I want it to look beautiful, not like some shaky cell phone footage from 2010."
She pulled a small powder puff from her waist pouch and quickly dabbed her nose. The only things that should be shining are her sword blade and her eyes, not her T-zone. In real life, Karina could afford to be careless, but Kary was a brand. A brand had to be flawless.
— "Alright," she looked at her reflection in the polished blade of the sword (she didn't have pauldrons yet; the budget didn't allow for it). "Chest in place, sword in place, conscience... left in the previous world. Let’s go!"
Kary hurried forward, but not at a run—racing along a forest path in heels was considered a faux pas, and the risk of twisting an ankle was very real. She transitioned into a fast, confident stride, letting her hips sway with hypnotic amplitude. The drone flew slightly behind and to the side, capturing both the streamer’s figure and the smoke rising on the horizon. The composition of the shot—10 out of 10.
The forest opened up, revealing a scene worthy of a budget fantasy novel cover.
The village of "Quiet Willows" no longer lived up to its name. It was screaming, burning, and stinking. Thatch roofs were ablaze, terrified chickens darted underfoot, and in the center, in the only square by the well, true chaos was unfolding.
About ten people in filthy, hooded robes had herded the peasants into a huddle. Typical low-level bandit cultists. They always had hygiene issues, a fanatical glint in their eyes, and terrible taste in clothes. Honestly, who wears burlap with sandals and socks?
— "Analyze," she whispered.
Red markers flared above the enemies' heads.
[Cultist Drop-out. Level 4]
[Cultist Intern. Level 5]
[Overseer (Junior Assistant). Level 7]
— "Ugh, look at these small fry," Kary commented to the chat, making no effort to hide. "I thought there’d be a raid boss, but this is just 'Little Sprout' daycare. Hey, viewers, place your bets! How many minutes until I dismantle them? Whoever guesses the exact time gets a fansign on..." she glanced over herself, "...on my left knee."
[SpeedRunner]: 45 seconds!
[Tactician]: There’s an archer on the roof, you idiot! Level 4, but he can still put an eye out!
— "I see him, I’m not blind," the girl snapped back, noticing a couple of scrawny figures with slingshots and short bows on the surviving roof of a shed.
In the center of the square, the most unpleasant part was happening. A massive (for this location) brute—the Level 7 Overseer—was waving a whip.
CRACK!
The blow landed on an old man’s back. The peasants wailed, huddling closer together.
— "In the name of the Great God of Petty Malice!" the brute roared in a nasty, grating voice. "Know suffering! Give up all your grain and your pretty girls!"
CRACK!
— "Oh, a BDSM party for the poor? And I wasn't invited?" Kary said loudly, stepping out from the shadows of the trees into the light.
The entire square froze. The cultists turned around. The peasants went silent. Even a chicken running past seemed to stop to witness the savior’s arrival.
Kary struck her signature pose: one leg forward, torso slightly turned, sword carelessly stabbed point-first into the ground (it went in like butter), hand on her hip. A breeze caught her hair and the hem of her dress perfectly, revealing her shapely legs in stockings.
— "Who the hell are you, woman?!" the Overseer barked, turning toward her. His face, hidden under a tattered hood, was pimply and unshaven. Gross.
— "Me?" Kary acted surprised, looking not at the enemy but into the drone’s camera, which had flown right up to her face. "I am your nightmare, your wet dream, and the reason this stream is about to hit the top charts."
[Chat_Bot]: Livestream online viewers have exceeded 5,000! You are trending in the 'Newcomers' category!
— "But for you, pizza-face, I’ll just be 'Mistress'," she added, smiling dazzlingly. "By the way, could you move a little to the left? You’re blocking the light from the burning shed; I’m losing my backlight."
The cultists looked at each other. An awkward silence hung in the air. They were clearly expecting guards or a drunken militia, not a girl in an evening dress.
— "Get her!" the Overseer finally figured out. "She’s a beauty! We’ll sell her at the slave market!"
— "Sell me?" Kary laughed, pulling the sword from the ground with one hand. The steel sang hungrily. Despite its weight, the sword felt weightless in her hands. "Sweetie, I’m priceless. But your hide is worth exactly... zero XP."
[User69]: Go for it! Show 'em! [Donator_King]: Donating 1000 if you kick his ass!
— "Challenge accepted, King!" she shouted into the void, completely baffling her enemies.
Three cultists in robes rushed her, brandishing rusty knives. They ran clumsily, stumbling over stones.
— "Technique evaluation: zero out of ten," Kary commented.
She didn't move. She waited. The drone's camera circled around, creating a sense of dynamic action. She needed to let them get closer. Viewers love macro shots.
When the first cultist was only a meter away, raising his blade, Kary simply took a step to the side—fluid, as if in a dance. Her heel clicked against the stone. The sword in her hands traced a short, lazy arc.
WHOOSH!
No blood—this was a starter zone, after all; here, enemies just fly off with a cartoonish sound. It was a flat strike, but with the force of a hydraulic press. The Level 4 cultist flew back about ten meters, crashed into a fence, and disintegrated into loot (a couple of copper coins and a rotten apple).
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
[Critical Hit! Damage: Overkill (One-shot)]
“Strike!” the streamer shouted cheerfully. “Chat, did you see that? He flew off like a ragdoll! Oh, look, he dropped an apple. Who wants an apple?”
The remaining cultists skidded to a halt.
“She’s a monster!” someone shrieked. “Her sword is glowing!”
“It’s not the sword glowing, it’s my charisma!” Kary corrected. “And my subscription tier is expensive, so don't just stand there like statues—work for the content!”
The Scourge Overseer growled and shoved aside the old man he had been torturing.
“Archers!” he bellowed. “Pin this broad down!”
“Hey!” Kary snapped, genuinely offended. “Calling me a ‘broad’ is a bannable offense!”
She glanced toward the roof. A half-baked archer with a crooked bow took aim.
“Okay, chat, watch this trick,” she muttered quickly. “If I mess up and get shot—don’t you dare make clips! But if it works, everyone owes me a like.”
The arrow snapped off the string, wobbling through the air like a drunken fly. At that moment, Kary performed the move she had practiced for hours in front of her bedroom mirror. She didn’t just dodge. She arched back into a full bridge, demonstrating incredible flexibility, so that the projectile passed a good half-meter from her nose (though on camera, it looked like a hair’s breadth).
The movement pulled her dress so taut that the chat—judging by the speed of the scrolling messages—suffered a collective meltdown.
“Eat your heart out, Matrix!” Kary exhaled, straightening up and tossing her hair back. “Dronny, tell me you caught that in slow-mo. If you didn’t, I’m stripping you for parts.”
A second arrow missed entirely, disappearing into the bushes.
“Bo-o-oring,” she drawled. “Alright boys, foreplay’s over. Time for some hardcore... nooby-gaming.”
Kary gripped her sword with both hands, the weight of the weapon pulling satisfyingly at her shoulders. The System highlighted the trajectory for a perfect dash. she lunged forward, swinging the massive blade like a ceiling fan.
“Hi, sweetie!” Kary grinned, appearing right in the Overseer’s face. He didn’t even have time to raise his whip.
The enemy's eyes widened in terror.
“Smile! You’re on candid camera!”
A heel to the stomach doubled the brute over. He wheezed, his eyes bulging.
“That’s for the bad service!” Kary chirped, landing heavy blows with the hilt. “Where’s the red carpet? Why are the peasants so unwashed? Didn't you know guests were coming?”
She kicked the Overseer so hard he rolled to the feet of his minions. Then, she slammed her sword into the ground, leaned on it, and struck a sultry pose.
“Whew,” Kary wiped away a non-existent bead of sweat. “It’s getting a bit hot in here. Dronny, water.”
A bottle of crystal-clear water (part of her starter rations) materialized from her inventory. She took a sip, demonstratively letting a single droplet trickle down her chin, over her neck, and lower toward her cleavage.
[Simp_Master]: I want to be that drop...
[Tactician]: BEHIND YOU!
Karina knew he was there. The mini-map in the corner of her interface wasn't just for decoration.
One of the acolytes, thinking his opponent was distracted, lunged from behind. Naive little noob.
Without looking back, Kary whipped around in a circle, letting the momentum of the heavy blade do the work. The flat side of the sword met the attacker’s face. A dull “Bonk!” echoed through the square, and the body slumped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“Never,” she turned to the camera, looking straight into the viewer’s soul, “hear me? Never interrupt a girl while she’s drinking. It’s bad for the digestion and the complexion.”
She scanned the remaining enemies. About five left. She hadn't even broken a sweat.
“Alright, you little pests,” Kary smiled hungrily. “Who’s next for five seconds of fame on my blog? Line up, one by one.”
At that moment, the largest barn collapsed with a roar, sending up a shower of sparks. The backdrop became even more epic.
“Perfect,” she whispered. “Just perfect.”
She stepped forward, her skirt fluttering to reveal the lace of her garters and a flash of thigh.
“The show is just beginning!” Kary proclaimed, gesturing theatrically.
In her mind, the camera was already making a dramatic sweeping arc... when suddenly...
[System Alert: Connection Failure]
[Error 404: Broadcast Server Not Responding]
[Attempting to Reconnect... 1 of 5]
The drone’s blue eye blinked, turned an ominous crimson, and slumped lifelessly in the air, entering hibernation mode. The holographic chat above her head, which had been a boiling sea of emojis and donation promises, shattered into pixels and went dark.
Silence.
Kary froze mid-stride. The face that a second ago radiated righteous fury and seductive aggression was now twisted in a grimace of pure horror. Not the fear of death—no. It was that chilling feeling you get when you realize you left the iron on before leaving for vacation, or when the internet cuts out during a million-dollar tournament match.
“Hey!” she shouted into the void, tapping her finger against the lens of the suspended device. “What gives? Dronny? Hello! We’re live! We’re at peak viewership!”
The cultists, who had been bracing for a humiliating death under a manure cart, exchanged bewildered glances.
“Is she... incanting?” one acolyte asked hesitantly, gripping his dagger with sweaty hands.
“It’s a silence spell!” another suggested. “Or a mental attack!”
“It’s a trash provider, that’s what it is!” Kary barked, losing every ounce of her aristocratic polish. She turned her back on the enemies, demonstratively ignoring their existence. “System! Connection status! Ping! Packet loss!”
[No connection found. Please check your inter-dimensional gateway settings.]
“You have got to be kidding me!” the girl wailed. “I just baited them for fifty thousand! I had a ‘Whale’ sitting in the chat!”
She began darting across the square, holding the drone over her head like Simba in an attempt to catch even a single bar of signal.
The Scourge Overseer, recovering from the heel to his gut, struggled to his feet. His face turned a deep, angry purple.
“You dare ignore us, woman?!” he roared, spitting with rage. “We are the servants of the Great Sin! We bring pain!”
“Oh, shut up!” Kary waved him off without even looking. “My stream dropped! Don’t you understand? If I kill you now without viewers, it’s wasted labor! No XP, no donations, no clips! Who works for free? You?”
She stood on her tiptoes on the slippery edge of a stone well, stretching her arm with the drone as high as possible. Her short skirt, obeying the laws of physics and ruthless marketing, flew even higher. The peasants, who had been trembling in fear, were now staring at their savior with mouths agape. It wasn't hope in their eyes; it was a very specific, worldly interest.
“Oh, holy virgin...” whispered a young man among the prisoners, staring at the lace panties in ‘Midnight Passion’ black that were now on full public display.
“Don’t blaspheme, my son,” an old man hissed at him, though he squinted to get a better look himself. “Though the Lord moves in mysterious ways...”
One of the cultists standing right under the well froze, looking up. The dagger in his hand slowly lowered.
“Lust...” he rasped, no longer with hatred, but with a kind of mesmerized reverence. “She truly is the incarnation of Lust...”
“Hey! Eyes up here, you perverts!” Kary noticed where they were looking, but instead of being embarrassed, she just stomped her foot in irritation, nearly falling into the well. “Look at the signal indicator! Is there a connection? Is the light blinking?”
“No, Mistress...” the cultist replied timidly, blushing under his hood.
“Useless NPCs!” Karina exhaled. In the real world, she would have been firing off an angry tweet to tech support, but here she had to improvise. “Fine, I need higher ground. The roof!”
She hopped down from the well, landing a meter away from the Overseer just as he was raising his whip to strike.
“Move it, tubby!” She shoved the brute with her shoulder, a push so strong the two-hundred-and-sixty-pound carcass actually stumbled. “You’re messing with my aura with your low vibrations!”
Kary dashed toward the only surviving two-story building—the tavern. The cultists parted for her like the Red Sea before Moses. They simply didn’t know what to do. The script was broken. The hero wasn't attacking; the hero was looking for Wi-Fi.
“Kill her!” the Overseer shrieked, feeling his authority melting faster than ice cream in hell. “What are you waiting for?! She’s unarmed! Her back is turned!”
“But she’s... she’s communicating with the gods!” one acolyte muttered. “What if she’s summoning Armageddon?”
While the enemies hesitated, Kary was already scrambling up a shaky lean-to ladder. The Dragon Slayer sword snagged its guard on the rungs mercilessly, but she couldn't let go of it—it was part of the brand.
“Ugh, so much dust,” she grumbled, pulling herself onto the thatched roof. “I hope there are no spiders. I put it in the contract: no arachnids larger than a palm, otherwise I get hazard pay.”
She stood on the ridge, her face to the wind, which fiercely whipped her hair and dress. The view from here was magnificent: the burning village, the crowd of stunned fanatics below, and the endless forest all around.
“System, scan for network!” she commanded.
[Searching... Weak signal detected.] [Connection Quality: 1 bar (EDGE). Lag possible.]
“Better than nothing!” Kary cheered. “Dronny, reboot! Start buffering! I need at least 480p, I don't care about HD!”
While she fumbled with the settings, the situation below began to shift. The Scourge Overseer, realizing he couldn't wait any longer, decided to take the initiative.
“Archers!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “Knock that crazy bird off her roost!”
The crossbowmen on the neighboring roof leveled their weapons.
“Hey!” Kary shouted down, waving her hand at them. “One second! I’m doing a driver update! Don’t shoot! That’s a violation of the Geneva Convention... or whatever you have here instead!”
But the cultists didn't care about conventions. The trigger mechanisms clicked. And at that exact moment, the air in the square thickened. A graveyard chill wafted through—not from the wind, but as if someone had opened a morgue freezer. The smell of smoke was replaced by the metallic tang of blood.
From the forest, the same direction Kary had come from, a figure emerged.
It wasn't a streamer. Oh, no. It was a walking clump of shadow and darkness, forged from steel and hatred.
Tall, nearly seven feet, he was encased in heavy plate armor of a matte-black finish, covered in spikes and engravings of skulls. His face was entirely hidden by a helm with a narrow T-shaped slit, from which a sinister crimson glow seeped. In his hands, the stranger held a massive two-handed flamberge. The blade didn't shine—it greedily swallowed the light.
Above the warrior’s head, there were no cheerful chats or donations. There was only a dry, terrifying interface line written in a blood-red font:
[Gareth, Knight of Vengeance]
[Level: 55]
[Class: Blood Berserker / Death Paladin]
[Status: Wrath]
“Defilers...” The voice sounded like someone grinding gravel in a cement mixer—hollow, low, and vibrating in the chest of everyone present.
On the roof, Kary froze, clutching her drone to her chest.
“Uh-oh,” she whispered under her breath. “Looks like the competition has arrived. What’s with this Sauron cosplay?”
The cultists turned toward the new threat. The Scourge Overseer, sensing that the day was rapidly spiraling out of control, stepped forward.
“Who are you?!” he barked, trying to hide his tremor. “This is the territory of Sin! Leave, or you shall know...”
Gareth didn’t bother listening. He simply moved forward—slow, inevitable, like a steamroller. Every step was accompanied by the heavy clang of metal.
“Sin...” the Knight rumbled. “The only sin here is your existence. And I have come to absolve you of it.”
The most nervous of the acolytes couldn't take it and, with a scream, lunged at the knight with a raised dagger. The strike followed instantly—too fast for the human eye to track. The black flamberge traced a semi-circle.
CRUNCH!
Kary winced on the roof. The sound was disgustingly realistic. Wet.
The acolyte kept running by momentum, but without the top half of his torso. A fountain of blood sprayed into the sky, drenching the cobblestones, the cart, and his stunned comrades. Guts hit the ground with a wet, squelching thud.
[Critical Hit! Damage: 9999 (Death)]
“Gross!” Kary covered her mouth with her hand, feeling nausea rise. “Oh god, that’s foul! Where’s the blur? Why is there no censorship?!”
But Gareth was just getting started. He tore into the crowd of cultists like a wolf into a hen house. No flashy poses, no jokes. Only pure, concentrated killing efficiency. He grabbed one cultist by the throat with a gauntlet, lifted him off the ground, and squeezed his fist. The snap of neck vertebrae was audible even on the roof, and the body flew aside like a ragdoll.
“Defend yourselves!” the Overseer shrieked, backing away. “Kill him!”
The crossbowmen shifted their aim from Kary to the black knight. Bolts struck his armor but simply bounced off, leaving not even a scratch. Gareth slowly turned his head toward the shooters. The red glow in the slit of his helm flared brighter.
[Skill: Abyssal Grip]
He reached out his hand. A black mist, looking like tentacles, erupted from his palm, surged toward the shed roof, wrapped around the archers, and jerked them down with violent force. Their screams ended in the dull thuds of bodies hitting the dirt. The knight immediately finished the fallen, crushing their heads under a heavy boot.
Squelch.
Like overripe watermelons.
“This... this is too much!” Kary whispered, watching the slaughter in horror. “This is R-rated! No, this is NC-17! I won’t just get banned for this—I’ll be thrown in jail for distributing snuff!”
Meanwhile, Gareth reached the Overseer. The fat man tried to strike with his whip, but the knight caught the leather lash, jerked it toward himself, and the cultist flew straight into a steel fist. A gauntlet strike to the face turned the Overseer’s skull into a bloody mess. Teeth scattered across the stones like Skittles.
The entire fight took a minute at most. Twenty men. Twenty corpses. Blood was everywhere: flowing in streams over the cobblestones, mixing with mud and manure, splashing against the walls of the houses.
Gareth stood in the middle of this hell, breathing heavily. A thick, dark sludge dripped from his sword. He slowly turned toward the peasants. They, white with terror, fell to their knees, not daring to look up. They feared their savior more than their torturers.
And then...
Ding!
A cheerful notification sound chimed over Kary’s head.
[Connection restored!]
[Quality: HD 720p]
[Broadcast resumed. Viewers are returning!]
“Son of a...!” Kary cursed out loud.
The drone came to life, gave a happy beep, and immediately took a wide shot. A shot featuring a bloodbath, dismembered corpses, and a black knight who looked like a serial killer. The chat, which had just begun to load, exploded.
[Admin_Bot]: Warning! 18+ content detected! Community guidelines violation!
[FlowerGirl]: OH MY GOD! IS THAT A HEAD?! I’m gonna puke!
[GoreLover]: YESSSS! Look at that carnage! Kary, did you switch genres?!
[Moderator_Alex]: Kary, cut it! Cut it fast or the channel gets nuked! That’s a strike!
Kary, forgetting the ladder, jumped from the roof using [Soft Landing]. Her heels touched a pool of blood, and she recoiled in disgust, hiking up the hem of her dress.
“You!” She ran up to Gareth, poking a manicured finger at him. “What have you done, you moron?!”
The knight slowly turned. He clearly hadn't expected this reaction. Usually, rescued damsels cried, thanked him, or fainted. This one was looking at him as if he’d just crapped on her favorite rug.
“I have cleansed this world of filth,” he said hollowly. “I have saved the innocent.”
“Saved?!” Kary shrieked, clutching her head. “Look at this! Guts! Brains! Blood fountains! Do you even understand what demonetization is? Do you have any idea how my reach drops because of age restrictions?!”
Gareth tilted his head. His crimson eyes blinked.
“Demo... netization?” he slowly repeated the unfamiliar word. “Is it a demon? A new kind of dark magic?”
“It’s worse than a demon! It’s poverty!” Kary turned to the drone, trying to block the view of the dismemberment with her body. “Chat, sweeties, this is... it’s special effects! It’s cranberry syrup! We’re filming a movie! Don’t report, please!”
She tried to strike a seductive pose to distract the audience—arching her back, blowing a kiss—but against the backdrop of a headless corpse, it looked surreal, to say the least.
[BanHammer_Incoming]: Too late, babe. I already reported. [MommyIsHere]: Taking the kids away from the screen. Dislike.
“Argh!” Kary stomped her foot, finally ruining her stockings with blood. “Fine! Stream’s over! Thanks everyone, love you all, see you... when I’ve dealt with the admins!”
She made a sharp gesture in the air, summoning the main menu.
“End broadcast. Log Out.”
[Confirming logout...]
Gareth took a step toward her, still holding his sword ready.
“Woman,” he rumbled. “You are acting strange. Are you possessed? I must examine your soul...”
He reached out a blood-stained gauntlet toward her.
“Keep your hands off me, you tin can!” Kary snapped. “You ruined my whole content! Next time I see you, I’m PK-ing you, I swear on my legendary earrings!”
The girl’s body began to glow with a soft golden light. Her outlines began to blur.
“What are you doing?” The knight's voice wavered. For the first time, something like surprise sounded in it, rather than cold fury. “Is this... teleportation magic? But there is a space-blocker here! The cultists set up a barrier!”
“What damn barrier?” Kary snorted, already half-transparent. “The ‘Log Out’ button works everywhere, dummy. Later! And go take a bath, you reek of a slaughterhouse.”
She gave a parting wink and, a second later, shattered into a myriad of golden fireflies that shot into the sky.
Silence fell over the square, broken only by the crackle of the fires and the low moans of the survivors.
Gareth, Knight of Vengeance, stood motionless, staring at the spot where the strange girl had just been. He reached out his hand, trying to catch a fading spark of light, but it passed through his fingers.
“Log Out...” he whispered.
The warrior opened his interface. The menu he had seen every day for the last three years. The menu that had become his cage. There, at the very bottom, the [Exit] button was grey. Inactive. Dead.
It was the same for everyone. For thousands of players stuck in the cursed world of "Age of Sins" after the last update. No one could leave. Death here was final. The pain was real.
“How?” he asked the void. “How did she do it?”
Gareth looked around. The corpses, the blood, the mud. Reality. A cruel, inescapable reality where he had become an executioner just to survive. And she... she had simply left. Dissolved as if it were a game. As if she had just been here on a tour.
He looked at the peasants. They huddled on the ground, awaiting their fate.
“Go,” he told them, sheathing his sword. “Go to the forest. It is no longer safe here.”
The knight walked over to the pool of blood where Kary had stood. There, in the mud, something glittered. He leaned down and picked up the object. A small pink heart-shaped hairclip. A completely alien element in this grim world.
He squeezed the clip in his fist until the metal creaked.
“Kary...” he spoke the name he’d heard from a dying cultist. “I will find you. And you will tell me how to open that damn door.”
Gareth turned and strode out of the village, leaving bloody footprints behind him. His cloak billowed in the wind, black as the night itself. But now, in that night, a goal had appeared. Not vengeance. Hope. And that hope smelled like stupid "Fatal Cherry" perfume.