“Just… die, already…!” :::boxWait, aren’t Thousand-Y Ice Wave! ::: Crack! Crack! Crack!

The Thousand-Year White Snake, its mouth agape as it lunged, froze solid, starting from its tail.

“Hah… haah…!”

Yoo Se-rin gasped for breath, her hand clenching icy shards.

Around her lay the frozen corpses of monsters, resembling frost-covered statues.

“What’s going on here? Was that really a Thousand-Year White Snake…?”

Something was clearly wrong.

A normal Thousand-Year White Snake shouldn’t have put up such a struggle.

Her mana had dwindled to barely a quarter of its original amount.

But that wasn’t the only problem.

“I have no idea where I am. It feels like I’m just going around in circles.”

An hour had passed since she entered the dark cavern at the ten o’clock position.

Yoo Se-rin was still lost within its depths.

“If I’d known it would be like this…”

Yoo Se-rin bit her lip.

Her own mistake had led to this situation.

She should have been more cautious when she confirmed that the restored Demon Sealing Cave was different from what she knew.

“If I hadn’t been so stubborn, obsessed with proving myself to that man…”

Right.

If only one of her teammates hadn’t openly humiliated her:

She had never been treated like this before.

Usually, even when people saw through her hidden motives, they would give in to her smiles and coquetry.

But Lee Taejun was different.

He firmly refused her, even scolding her with openly cold words.

So, unintentionally, I ended up saying something harsh.

“How about you concede some points to me? Brother, if you partnered with me, your viewership would surge. It would benefit both of us.”

Driven by misplaced pride, she blurted out words she didn’t mean.

In truth, Serine’s approach to Lee Taejun had stemmed solely from curiosity.

Later, after the evaluation is over, I’ll apologize.

In any case, now wasn’t the time to dwell on past mistakes.

First, she had to pass the preliminary assessment.

At this difficulty level, Lee Taejun and Kim Junhyun would likely have been eliminated long ago.

In contrast, she still had reserves of energy.

Working with Kang Gun, they should be able to conquer the dungeon.

Could Kang Gun have been eliminated too?

The sudden thought that Kang Gun might have failed made Yoo Se-rin pull a device from her suit.

She needed to check the viewer count on her streaming channel.

“Huh…?”

Her eyes widened as the number appeared on the screen.

Something was wrong.

The viewer count was drastically lower than what she’d seen before entering the dungeon.

That wasn’t the only problem.

Kang Gun’s viewer count was zero.

That meant only one thing:

His channel had been shut down due to elimination.

”…So, does that mean I’m the only one left?” Yoo Se-rin’s eyes widened, her pupils trembling.

The unexpected situation was repeating itself.

Fear gripped her.

Something was clearly wrong with this evaluation.

She frantically pressed the call button again.

Wasn’t No. 15 Kim Junhyun?

Like Kang Gun, he must have been eliminated long ago and had his channel shut down.

But then…

”?”

Yoo Se-rin froze, staring at the numbers on the screen.

“No way…”

Her channel hadn’t been shut down.

In fact, it had more than three times as many viewers as hers.

This can’t be happening.

Even if her strategies were faltering, could this many viewers have abandoned her so quickly?

Yoo Se-rin’s lips trembled.

Then…

What about Lee Taejun?

Click.

She pressed the pager button again.

When the number appeared on the screen, Yoo Se-rin could only gape in stunned silence.

Lee Taejun has designated tjsdk25 as a channel manager.

When Taejun first assigned himself as the channel manager, Lee Seonah was both surprised and puzzled, wondering if he had somehow recognized her.

Would the channel’s viewership ever grow large enough to require a manager?

Of course, she had witnessed the power of Taejun’s “ordinary Fireball.” That single skill alone was enough to earn a B-rank license.

Still, I never expected him to undergo the special assessment without even telling me.

Despite feeling somewhat hurt by Taejun’s secrecy, she knew.

Right, Taejun definitely has the ability to pass the special assessment.

But the problem was…

The number of viewers on a streamer’s channel isn’t directly proportional to their ability.

Naturally, exceptional skills are desirable, but…

‘It’s not the only factor that draws viewers.’

The candidate’s pre-established reputation, the image they’ve etched into the public consciousness,

and, most importantly, how spectacularly and innovatively they conquer the promotion assessment dungeon based on that foundation—

in other words, visible “showmanship” reigns supreme.

Thus, roughly ten minutes after Lee Taejun’s dungeon conquest began, it was almost inevitable that his viewer count would remain stagnant.

He possessed neither established recognition nor any buzzworthy qualities.

‘He even kept his status as a D-rank special assessment candidate confidential…’

Given Taejun’s current situation, it wasn’t hard to understand.

His popularity is bound to keep declining.

Moreover, no matter how exceptional his skills might be, Taejun only possessed Fireball.

From a purely visual perspective, he was no match for Kang Gun, with his arsenal of dynamic kicks and punches, or Yoo Se-rin, who dazzled with her flamboyant ice-attribute skills.

I wonder if he’ll do well. No, he has to do well.

Just then, her smartphone buzzed abruptly.

“Director?”

The message sender was Che Soohyun.

He should be focused on training in the practice room right now. Why this suddenly?

”?”

Lee Seonah’s head tilted slightly in confusion.

About twenty minutes later, as the members of Team 4 began their full-fledged assault, a notification appeared in the chat:

[ <3GuildsMustPerish and 2 others have joined the channel.> ]

New viewers had found Taejun’s channel.

Right before Lee Seonah’s eyes, they began typing furiously, as if venting pent-up frustration:

This was unexpected news.

They were struggling against a few Thousand-Year White Snakes?

Of course, there was none of that frustration in this room.

From the moment the raid began, Taejun had been charging through the dungeon as if he knew its entire layout perfectly.

While chatting with newly arrived viewers,

“Hyung, danger!”

A panicked voice shouted.

Turning back to the streaming screen, Taejun saw Kim Junhyun tightly constricted by a massive white serpent.

Doesn’t something look off about its appearance?

It definitely looks strange. What’s with those stains?

The Thousand-Year White Snake was said to have silver scales.

But the creature on screen now had black blotches spreading across its body.

What’s more, despite its chest being crushed by the monster’s immense strength, it seemed completely unharmed.

“Hyung! Something’s wrong!” Kim Junhyun screamed, his arms pinned by the monster.

New viewers immediately flooded the chat, as if they’d been waiting for this moment.

But then, in that very instant:

Whoosh!

Taejun’s voice echoed as the streaming screen suddenly flooded with crimson flames.

Screech!

Thud!

In the blink of an eye, the fireball soared through the air, neatly severing the Thousand-Year White Snake’s head.

Lee Seonah stared at the slain monster, a smirk playing on her lips.

Right. If it’s Taejun’s “ordinary fireball”…

It’s perfectly capable of producing such a spectacular scene.

Of course, that was Lee Seonah’s perspective, someone who knew Taejun’s abilities.

The three newly joined viewers remained stunned for a moment before hastily typing in the chat.

“Isn’t that a Fireball?”

“Looks like they have low flame resistance.”

“No, no, those guys are immune to even Kang Gun’s ‘Ascendant Dragon Flame Whirlwind’ attack.”

“That ridiculously powerful skill of his doesn’t work?”

Lee Seonah’s fingers, or rather her lips, itched to say something.

He’s always been this strong, she wanted to say, but she held back.

While she paused briefly, torn between typing in the chat and remaining silent:

Another bizarre scene flashed across the screen.

A sapphire-blue Fireball coalesced in Taejun’s hand.

Kim Junhyun swallowed the Fireball in one gulp, like eating an onigiri.

Lee Seonah immediately understood his intent, her eyes widening.

Absorption? But using a Fireball like that?

She never imagined he’d wield an unlaunched Fireball as an object.

But is that really efficient?

I acknowledge the extraordinary power of Taejun’s Fireball.

But isn’t it ultimately a basic skill?

Regardless of its destructive force, the Mana contained within can’t be that high.

The idea is clever, but it’s incredibly inefficient.

That’s what I thought.

“Hyung… I can’t handle the Mana anymore… I think I got indigestion…”

Suddenly, several Thousand-Year White Snakes approached from the other side.

“When you’re feeling unwell, you need a good back pat.”

Thwack!

Before Taejun could even slap Junhyun on the back.

“Hyung… Nnngh?!”

Fwoooooooosh!

The streaming screen abruptly flooded with bright crimson light.

Lava-like flames erupted from Junhyun’s mouth, sweeping across the dark cavern.

Lee Seonah stared blankly at her smartphone screen.

“What… what is that?”

At first glance, it looked like Junhyun’s ability, but it wasn’t.

That wave of flames was a projectile sculpted from the Fireball’s Mana.

In other words, that achievement was entirely Taejun’s.

Only then did Seonah regain her composure and turn her gaze back to the chat window.

But all three viewers had vanished simultaneously.

Could they have been so shocked by what they just saw that they turned off the stream? she wondered.

Several minutes later, the notification popped up:

From that moment on, Taejun’s channel experienced a sudden surge in viewership.

“Junhyun, 10 meters ahead, turn 45 degrees to the right, and fire one Breath.”

“Yes, bro.”

For the examiners, this promotion assessment represented their future.

But for the viewers, mere third-party observers, it was nothing more than a game walkthrough broadcast.

Naturally, they would be more enthusiastic about a seasoned gamer who delivered ingenious strategies and slick gameplay than about a newbie who wandered aimlessly.

“The path splits into two 5 meters ahead. Take the left one. FYI, six snakes are waiting as soon as you turn left, so have your Breath charged.”

“Got it, bro!”

And the Taejun currently visible on screen was the epitome of water so stagnant it had begun to rot.