Chapter 30: Unstoppable Force: Ormal’s Dominance and Fan Management

The formula for victory in Eternal World is simple:

Collect resources. Use those resources to kill enemies. Destroy key points.

This is the essence of all AOS (Arena of Strategy) games. Eternal World may have thrown in some extra layers, but at its core, it follows the same principle. Of course, there are a few odd AOS games that try to break the mold, but those are the exceptions, not the standard.

Anyway.

The most efficient way to gather resources has already been established. No matter how much you try to innovate, the framework remains the same.

That’s why, if you understand your opponent’s psychology, you can predict their every move. Just like now.

After wiping out all the bodyguards protecting the enemy’s main carry, Gondeurimyeonmureoyo, I asked,
“You said you enjoyed Excel Busters?”

“I did! I saw Gajunsik playing—”

Smash.

I finished off Gondeurimyeonmureoyo with Ormal’s first ability, [You’re Bad].

As expected, many players were drawn in by Gajunsik’s streams. The influence of a major broadcaster is undeniable.

It’s not for nothing that I started streaming. If I can harness that influence, advertising becomes a breeze.

Should I start handing out ads in the future?

I pondered for a moment but shook my head.

If you convert the promotional effect of these streams into monetary value, the sum would be unimaginable. These days, streamers charge a fortune.

It’s smarter to focus on developing fun, engaging games that everyone wants to play. Focusing too much on advertising could ruin me.

After briefly getting sidetracked, I returned my attention to the game and checked my team’s progress.

Since I had wiped out the enemy twice, my allies were now growing comfortably.

This gave me room to focus on my objectives as well.

Closing the info window, I swiftly moved toward the enemy’s base.

Ormal isn’t exactly a character suited for the central core area. Though currently used as one, it was originally released as an outer-lane character.

As such, it can’t compare to other core characters in terms of growth potential.

However, Ormal remains a solid pick.

Ormal is a half-ogre character with a clear concept: brute strength.

Support? Assassination? Gathering information? Late-game damage? Playmaking?

None of that matters. All that counts is raw power.

Crushing enemies with overwhelming early-game strength—that was Ormal’s purpose.

In the early game, Ormal was a disaster waiting to happen. By the time Tier-3 objectives appeared, Ormal would start to lose relevance, but as long as the enemy carries hadn’t fully built their items, no one could stop him.

Realizing this too late, the enemy team shifted their focus from countering me to farming for growth.

That meant they had abandoned their main carry.

I dashed toward Gondeurimyeonmureoyo, who was struggling to hunt objectives with his support.

A shadow spell tried to bind my feet, but I roared, cleansing the crowd control effect, and charged forward. The motion was so fluid it created the illusion that I hadn’t even been hit.

I smashed the support to pieces with my crimson-glowing club and stood in front of Gondeurimyeonmureoyo.

I enabled the in-game voice chat.

“What part of the game did you find fun?”

Space energy gathered in Gondeurimyeonmureoyo’s hands. Instead of answering, he attacked—how disappointing.

The energy warped space as it shot toward me, but I easily dodged and raised my club.

When words fail, punishment works best.

I beat him mercilessly, reducing his health to a single digit.

Finally, he gave up and spoke.

“The game mechanics… were fun.”

“So not the story, huh?”

“No… the story too.”

Smash.

After nicely rearranging his head, I opened the team’s status window and frowned.

Despite the advantage I’d secured, all of my allies had racked up excessive deaths.

How could they lose after I held the enemy down with two deaths each?

The most frustrating part was our scout, who ran off to help the carry duo and ended up getting killed.

I told you to just farm quietly. Why couldn’t you do that?

Ormal is a character with clear limitations. Allowing the enemy to overgrow like this was dangerous.

It was time for drastic measures.

With a heavy heart, I said a brief farewell to Gondeurimyeonmureoyo.

Wait for me—I’ll be back soon.

For now, I made my way to the central area, where a particularly annoying enemy resided.

Just farming wasn’t enough—this cheeky enemy had also killed our carry duo and scout.

It didn’t take long to find my target.

The enemy central core, who was about to claim a Tier-4 objective, spotted me and immediately used a skill.

Crack!

Around him, ice familiars and weapons materialized, and chunks of ice flew toward me.

I dodged them with ease and closed the gap.

With crimson energy swirling around my club, I shattered the enemy’s skull.

Mission complete.

Now, it’s time to return to my fan meeting.

“The true ending of Excel Busters was so good! A solution where everyone ends up happy—totally my style—”

Smash.

“Fantasy Life? Haven’t played it yet, but I’ll try it right away.”

Smash.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Smash.

The more I entertained him with this little fan meeting, the more Gondeurimyeonmureoyo seemed to enjoy it.

And as a bonus, I made time to deal with the enemy’s central core and scout whenever I had the chance.

With each objective secured and every kill collected, I achieved absurd levels of growth.

As the final battle for the major objective approached, I looked at the enemy team.

They were barely hanging on—like beaten remnants of an army.

It was surprising they hadn’t surrendered yet.

They probably thought that since I was playing Ormal, they could reverse the game if they killed me just once. But that was overly optimistic.

Yes, Ormal is an early-game character, and his growth potential is limited. His power graph plummets as the game progresses.

But that only applies under normal circumstances.

When an Ormal gets this far ahead, he becomes a disaster until the game ends.

Thud. I took a step forward.

The enemy’s attacks sliced through the air.

A pillar of ice collided with me.

My health dropped.

Space split apart, slashing everything in a designated area.

My health dropped again.

A shadow dragon roared, applying a slow effect and additional damage.

My health continued to drop.

But I kept advancing.

I tanked every attack they threw at me. Ormal’s massive size and hitbox made it difficult to dodge anything in large-scale battles like this.

Not that I ever intended to dodge in the first place.

Step by step, I closed the distance. Slowly, I raised my club.

After taking every ultimate and skill head-on, my health had finally dropped significantly.

I was down to just three-quarters of my total HP!

If they could repeat this three more times, they might actually manage to kill me.

I activated Ormal’s ultimate, [I’m Angry!].

When I slammed my club down, the ground caved in, forming a massive crater.

As a bonus, the enemy’s strongest solo-lane character, who had been doing relatively well, was crushed to death.

Five enemies remained.

It felt like playing whack-a-mole.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

I finished off every character standing there, resigned to their fate.

Finally, I approached the last one—Gondeurimyeonmureoyo.

“Did you have fun?” I asked.

“Do I look like I had fun, you—”

Bang!

After wiping out all my enemies, I gave a satisfied nod.

“I’m glad if you enjoyed it.”

Some things can only be known through experience—whether they’re sweet like honey or bitter like herbal medicine.

Realizing it was impossible to kill Ormal, the enemy team surrendered immediately.

Whoooosh. Boom. [Victory].

I exhaled lightly as the lobby screen appeared and opened the chat window.

“Han Yurim’s sniper lesson! Han Yurim’s sniper lesson! Han Yurim’s sniper lesson! Han Yurim’s sniper lesson!”

“Trash loser cut, lol! Trash loser cut, lol! Trash loser cut, lol!”

“Stream sniping, banning your target… and you still lost? Just quit gaming, bro.”

It seemed my performance had satisfied the audience. I felt good as an entertainer.

Enjoying the cheers, I tapped the virtual touch screen.

There was still one more thing to do.

[Friend Request – Gondeurimyeonmureoyo]

As soon as I sent a friend request to the enemy’s main carry, it was accepted immediately.

A chat popped up.

Gondeurimyeonmureoyo: “What the hell do you want now?”

Han Yurim: “Just one last question.”

Gondeurimyeonmureoyo: “You still have more to ask?”

He seemed baffled. We had already talked a lot during the match. I didn’t have much left to ask—just one thing.

Han Yurim: “Are you excited about my next project?”

Gondeurimyeonmureoyo: “Hell no, you crazy—”

Got it.

It seemed there were still areas where my game design needed improvement. I had to keep honing my skills.

After finishing the conversation, I opened my friends list and made some adjustments.

[Fan – Tier 1]
[Fan – Tier 2]
[Fan – Tier 3]
[Fan – Tier 4]
[Fan – Tier 5]

I organized my new friend categories and placed Gondeurimyeonmureoyo in the [Fan – Tier 3] folder.

I spoke aloud.

“You lacked a little affection, but your brutal honesty earned you a one-tier promotion to Tier 3. How does that sound?”

I checked the friend chat window, but no response came.

Had he already turned off the stream?

Folding my arms, I pondered. This was unexpected.

Without customer feedback, how could I gauge satisfaction?

Ding! A donation notification appeared.

Was that you, Gondeurimyeonmureoyo?

<Anonymous donated 1,000 won>

– “Why only that guy? Why only that guy? Why only that guy? Why only that guy?”

Guess not.

Where’d you go, Gondeurimyeonmureoyo?

Feeling a bit down, I responded to the audience.

“He was the only one who showed up for the interview.”