Paepae quickly queued for the next match.
Thanks to the enemy’s main carry picking a troll pick, victory came too easily.
Although victory is usually sweet, that’s not always the case in games.
Winning so effortlessly can sometimes leave you feeling deflated.
“Is Novella even working these days? Look at the quality of these matchups.”
Paepae frowned as he criticized Novella, the developer of Eternal World.
“Now that they’ve become the world’s number one game, I guess they’re busy building employee lounges and expanding benefits, huh? LOL.”
Rule #1 of Game Companies: Once they grow big, their games stop being fun.
“Who asked them to make a perfect game? They can’t even get the basics right. If they’re going to focus only on tournaments and ignore solo ranked mode, they might as well just host tournaments only.”
This statement hit the nerve of the Eternal World player base, echoing a common frustration. The chat exploded in agreement.
Satisfied with the reaction, Paepae sipped some tea.
The hot liquid running through his body made his brain feel like it was rebooting.
Every streamer has their unique weapon.
For some, it’s diligence. This seemingly simple trait is actually a powerful talent. Streaming more than 12 hours a day, seven days a week—sometimes even 24 hours—isn’t easy, no matter how fun streaming may seem.
For others, it’s skill. A streamer with exceptional gaming prowess can captivate viewers without needing clever commentary.
Some rely on their wit, some on their looks, and others on their voice.
As for Paepae, his weapon was a strong sense of conviction.
Having a clear and strong opinion is a powerful talent. Humans are social animals, designed to be influenced by others. It takes immense self-confidence to transcend this biological mechanism.
Clear convictions also bring consistency. When someone stays the same, even if they do things people initially dislike, they eventually become likable. Consistency, from beginning to end, matters.
On top of that, Paepae was intelligent.
Even if someone has strong opinions, without intelligence, they’re just stubborn. To succeed, one needs to know how to express contrary views without crossing the line or causing controversy.
Paepae was born with these abilities set to the highest level.
It was no wonder he had become a top-tier broadcaster.
[ᄋᄋ has donated 10,000 won.]
“Have you ever thought about going pro?”
“Pro? Who’s going to give me a shot? If you ask Lumen, going pro isn’t worth it. Besides, if I was going to do it, I should’ve done it earlier. I’ve grown my channel too much to throw everything away for the pro scene now.”
Could Paepae have succeeded as a pro player? It was a common topic that came up from time to time.
Whenever the subject arose, Paepae would skillfully steer the conversation away.
It was one of those things no one could know for sure.
If he adapted well, he could have become one of the best, like his friend Lumen. But if he didn’t, he might have ended up as just another solo queue warrior.
In the end, unless Paepae actually pursued a pro career, it would remain an unprovable speculation. Bringing it up only risked making him sound unpleasant, so it was better to leave it alone.
The queue popped, and Paepae picked Metatron before heading to the bathroom.
When he returned after washing his hands, the broadcast chat was in complete chaos, causing him to frown.
“Stop sniping, you [expletive]. At least be subtle about it!”
What’s going on?
Paepae quickly put on his VR headset and checked the in-game chat.
Han Yurim (Urban Core): “Is that really Paepae?”
That message had been sent about 20 seconds earlier from the enemy’s Urban Core player.
Paepae sighed internally.
This kind of thing was part of the package deal for popular streamers.
“It’s probably just a coincidence we ended up in the same game. If the chat crosses the line, I’ll start banning people.”
The reason streamers dislike sniping is somewhat complicated.
For instance, let’s say someone gets matched into the same queue but plays the game normally. No streamer would mind that.
But that’s usually not how it goes.
What really makes sniping frustrating isn’t the act itself, but everything that comes with it.
Stream sniping? It’s annoying, but not the worst part. The real issue is that it causes the chat to go wild.
That’s why streamers hate people revealing snipes even more than the snipes themselves.
Just like what was happening now.
Paepae was almost certain that Han Yurim, playing as the urban core, was sniping, but he left some room for doubt.
Even if the odds were 99.9%, labeling someone as a confirmed sniper would be a foolish move. Doing so would only escalate the toxicity in the chat and increase the chances of further issues.
The best option was to handle it moderately and move on.
<XX has donated 1,000 won>
[“She’s a streamer. Probably not sniping.”]
– …A streamer?
It was hard to believe. A streamer wouldn’t send such a message in chat.
“It’s probably just a donation to stir up trouble. Let’s ignore it.”
Paepae dismissed the thought and focused on sweeping through the city’s midsection with the support player.
The support’s sluggish movements frustrated him, but it was only natural for someone at a lower rank. It would have been irrational to get mad at someone playing according to their skill level.
Meanwhile, the enemy scout, who had died earlier during an ambush, now actively avoided Paepae. That worked in Paepae’s favor since it gave him free reign over the mid-area objectives.
Securing all the Tier-4 objectives, Paepae opened the scoreboard to assess the situation—and clicked his tongue.
The allied urban core had racked up consecutive deaths.
[0/2/0]
That was the core’s kill-death-assist ratio.
The city area was a hotbed for clashes, and early-game accidents were common.
Two deaths weren’t ideal, but they weren’t disastrous either. By now, the urban core should have realized their limits and switched to passive farming.
Sure, avoiding fights would gradually stack disadvantages, but the gains Paepae was amassing more than made up for them.
He planned to capitalize on the situation by killing three targets: the enemy scout, main carry, and support.
Paepae (Main Carry): “Anyone know where their carry is?”
CCTVJalhaeyo (Scout): “Nope, no idea.”
It seemed the scout was half-asleep since they still hadn’t tracked the enemy’s movements.
But it didn’t matter—Paepae had already predicted the enemy carry’s path.
He took a step forward, setting a ping: Heading to the expected location.
And just then—
Wings of light sprouted from Paepae’s back. There were only two wings for now, as his character was at zero ascensions. This meant only the base effects were active, but that was enough for the moment.
Metatron’s blade sliced through the air, unleashing a ranged attack from a melee strike—the core effect of his ultimate.
It was the kind of mechanic that perfectly suited Paepae’s main character, who excelled at both ranged and melee combat.
He quickly leapt backward, swinging his sword to increase the distance between himself and Thierry.
“If I can just widen the gap… victory is mine!”
Crackle.
Sparks ignited from Thierry’s hand.
Paepae’s heart sank.
In Eternal World, the most vulnerable moment for any character was when they were airborne.
Long jumps provided the fastest movement, but using them recklessly in combat left players dangerously exposed.
Even players ranked as low as Gold knew this fundamental truth. And Paepae, despite his high rank, had momentarily forgotten—his intense focus on battling Thierry had drained him mentally.
Thierry didn’t miss that fleeting opening when Paepae’s body was suspended in the air. She activated her skill, summoning lightning to her right hand.
There was a time when Thierry’s character was overpowered due to poorly balanced game mechanics.
Back then, just one of her skills was enough to carry her through fights, causing frustration among players. Although the developers later adjusted the balance, the memory of her overwhelming power lingered. Even now, players instinctively associated Thierry with that infamous skill.
The skill’s name was [Jupiter]—a derived ultimate ability of the Lightning element.
It was Thierry’s only long-range, single-target damage skill.
Sparks surged violently around her hand, condensing into a massive lightning spear. Thierry shifted her upper body slightly before hurling the spear with effortless precision.
The Wrath of the Thunder God tore through the air.
With that, the fight was over.
Staring at the grayscale death screen, Paepae checked on his support ally.
But it was too late—the support, who had been holding down the enemy scout, was overwhelmed the moment Thierry joined the fight.
Things were going downhill.
Frustrated but knowing he had no other choice, Paepae made a bitter decision.
He needed to start running.
‘Ah. Right. This is stream sniping… What do I even do?’
There was no way around it.
Paepae tried to confuse Thierry by rewriting his movements, planning his path as unpredictably as possible.
But every time he did… he ran into Thierry again.
Each time, the result was the same: he died, over and over.
Relentlessly, the pattern repeated. No matter how much Paepae adjusted his movements, Thierry always found him—and he always lost.
Of course, the chat was in chaos.
[“Is that person really a streamer? This has to be stream sniping.”]
[“Who the hell is Han Yurim? What the hell, SB.”]
[“That Thierry was in the last game too, right? And you’re telling me this isn’t targeting?”]
Although the chat moderators were busy banning users to prevent the worst insults, the messages kept coming—ranging from questioning whether the opponent was a real streamer to expressing rage over Thierry. Some viewers even said they wanted to see Thierry destroyed.
Surprisingly, amidst the uproar, Paepae grew calmer.
“It doesn’t seem like sniping,” he said.
Paepae’s thoughts had shifted.
At first, he’d been convinced that Thierry was deliberately targeting him. But something didn’t add up. He had purposely taken convoluted, inefficient paths—routes so chaotic that even a sniper would struggle to predict them. Yet, Thierry always arrived at his farming spots ahead of him.
This was strange.
If they had met somewhere in the middle, it could’ve been a coincidence. But arriving ahead of him at the destination?
That was something else entirely.
Then, a message popped up.
Han Yurim (Urban Core): It’s really you, Paepae.
That confirmed it—whoever was controlling Thierry was someone who knew him well.
It was the kind of play only possible for someone familiar with him down to his core.
But… who could it be?
Names of professional players flashed through Paepae’s mind. Yet none of them matched this strange, unsettling playstyle—one that was suffocating, dark, and left him feeling deeply uncomfortable.
Only one person came to mind.
‘But… that person quit the game ages ago. Could it really be…?’
Paepae hesitated for a moment, then began typing in the chat.
Paepae (Main Carry): Could you be…
He stopped mid-sentence, his fingers frozen above the keys.
He glanced at his viewer count—23,921 people.
The stream had gathered far more viewers than usual, likely because of the ongoing drama.
For a moment, he thought about turning off his screen to confirm his suspicions privately. But it wouldn’t matter. The donation earlier confirmed that Thierry was also streaming. As long as both streams were live, there was no hiding the conversation.
Taking a deep breath, Paepae typed the full message:
Paepae (Main Carry): Could you be… ‘VirginUnicornLover’?
Almost immediately, a reply came from Thierry.
Han Yurim (Urban Core): So, how’s it feel to abandon your first love and start fresh with Metatron? Enjoying it?
Paepae couldn’t help but chuckle dryly.
There was no doubt anymore. It was really them.
He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief.
Who would’ve thought that, after all these years, he’d encounter someone from ten years ago, like this?
Not in his wildest dreams.
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