Chapter 96…
Kim Yeo-eun, having maxed out her Alchemy skill, was flying around like Lü Bu on his Red Hare.
After all, she had more than enough materials and potions to drown in.
Sure, the boredom was the real enemy, but with Kim Screw beside her filling the air with nonstop chatter like a talk-show host, she managed to hold out.
Just before the server shut down, she successfully delivered the Highest-Grade Coolant to Old Man Deok-bae, who immediately began his work.
Thus ended a long day—
the first successful expedition into the mid-levels.
Granted, she’d spent more time in the lower levels than the mids, but still.
Treasure hunting was essentially abolished.
Lee Ji-han had been the first to discover the Abandoned Clock Tower, and those who arrived later after their penalties expired could only despair.
Still, that wasn’t enough reason to target Jo Gi-wan.
“HAN. We’ve got to get revenge on that guy.”
“If it hadn’t been for that damn roadkill stunt, we would’ve found it first!”
“Fine, then! In this event, we’ll make sure we take HAN’s head!”
And so they voluntarily went under the Shadow Guild.
Those who belonged to the lower levels rallied around the Alumni Association, while others stayed in the mid-levels to aid the Shadow Guild against HAN.
The split between mid- and lower-level players marked the end of the day’s server session.
This was the first faction war in Funk Sul-ri—a true war event—
and it was rapidly shaping up to be the most important one yet.
Naturally, streamers spent the end of their broadcasts discussing which side they’d join.
“Our clan’s always for the underdogs, so I guess we’ll side with the lower levels.”
“What, you think we’re just trying to pick a fight with HAN? Yeah—and what of it? Small fry like us need to stir the pot to survive!”
“Hmm… I’m torn, but I’ll probably go where I know people. Most of the mid-level folks I teamed with are siding with the Alumni Association anyway.”
Some chose the lower levels, siding with HAN’s supporters.
Others went the opposite way.
“Hahaha, we’re sticking with the mid-levels. They promised to help us reach the upper zone.”
“We were the first scouting party back when we were with Ego, so we’ll crush HAN and his gang and get promoted first again.”
“Kaiser Kim’s coming back too. Guess it’s time for Ego to regroup. We’ve got the best ties with the Shadow Guild anyway.”
The “good vs. evil” narrative had already been set in stone after the Steel Heart incident,
but these were streamers—
they’d gladly play the villain if it meant drawing more viewers.
In the end, everyone positioned themselves toward the direction of maximum traffic.
Some viewers preferred heroes, others villains.
“You’re not worried?”
“A little. This could turn from a scripted WWE show into a full-blown UFC brawl.”
Even the server’s management team had no choice but to keep a close eye.
“Yeah, but with so many big names involved, I think they’ll keep things under control.
Never expected the NPCs and players to interact this deeply, though.”
Roster, the lead admin of the major server, smiled as he watched the chat.
[Haha, Roster, you’re loving this, aren’t you?]
[Look at that grin.]
[If Roster’s happy because the server’s booming, that’s a W.]
[He was so gloomy yesterday when everyone was ganging up on Jo Gi-wan, and now he’s beaming again, lol.]
“Haha, who wouldn’t be happy when things are going well?”
[So, which streamer’s caught your eye the most?]
[HAN, right?]
[Yeah, he keeps tuning into HAN’s stream especially.]
“Haha, not so much favoritism—he’s just the one driving the events. Guy’s got good instincts.”
[For real, he was the first to clear Story Mode in Zombres too.]
[He’s got pioneer genes, lol.]
[Still, Roster, without you this wouldn’t be half as fun.]
[Watching Funk Sul-ri is my daily joy now, thanks man.]
[Though the RP kinda breaks sometimes…]
[As long as it’s entertaining, who cares?]
“Yeah, the RP’s gotten a bit sloppy.
It is an RP server, technically…”
Roster looked a bit regretful but also amused.
“Maybe I’ll introduce the RP Corps next time. That’d be fun.”
[Whoa, RP Corps?!]
[LMAO you’re gonna lock them in and make them do skits all day again.]
[But RP Corps was always gold.]
[Tons of small-time streamers there who make brilliant sketches.]
[Wait… do we even call him a small-timer anymore?]
“Anyway, that’s enough TAS talk for today. Good work, everyone.”
When the chat started focusing too much on a certain streamer, Roster smoothly changed topics—
dropping a bit of bait, then reeling it back in. A pro move from a seasoned big-name admin.
“Once the server reopens tomorrow, we’ll see a tectonic shift.
Less than two weeks left?
Hope everyone enjoys the rest of Funk Sul-ri!”
After saying that, Roster wrapped up with a few more donations and ended the stream.
“RP Corps.” “Tectonic shift.”
The viewers went to bed buzzing with excitement over what new storylines might unfold on Pretzel, the giant role-play server.
Later…
[He’s here!]
[Ji-han’s here!]
[Finally! Sit down already!]
[Lol Ji-han, did you see the chaos yesterday?]
Lee Ji-han’s stream went live.
The waiting screen faded in, and the chat exploded.
“I went to bed too early last night… haha. What happened?”
Ji-han adjusted his camera, smiling gently.
[You earned the rest, lol.]
[It was nuts yesterday—feels like a real war’s brewing.]
[What’s it like being at the center of it all?]
[Look at those viewer numbers spike, lol.]
[Seems like a bunch of players have joined the Shadow Guild too. Everyone’s predicting a clash.]
[Ji-han’s viewers skyrocketed. He used to be my hidden gem streamer—let’s keep climbing, bro!]
[Once this WWE-style event wraps, you’re gonna blow up big time.]
Reading chat, Ji-han began scrolling through the fan café, checking clips.
The community had already split into pro-HAN and Shadow Guild camps, and reaction videos labeled TAS Reactions were flooding in.
“Ah, so that’s how it divided. Fascinating…”
He was soaking in the afterglow of his first major server event.
Among the posts, one in particular caught his eye—
“Server Admin Reaction.”
He clicked it.
It was a clip from Roster’s post-stream talk, where the admin mentioned Ji-han’s broken RP immersion.
“…Yeah, the RP was lacking. I broke character quite a few times.”
Ji-han accepted the critique calmly.
[Lol it’s your first RP server anyway.]
[You’ve only been streaming two months—cut yourself some slack.]
[Hey, there’s talk about that RP Corps thing. You should apply if it opens.]
[They train small streamers in improv and RP. Everyone who joins comes out a pro.]
“RP Corps?”
[Yeah, it’s a group run by hardcore role-players.
They open training servers to teach people acting and improv, hence ‘RP Corps.’]
[It’s classic content. Think they’re on their fifth generation soon.]
[Usually for newcomers, so you qualify—even if you’re a fast-growing monster, lol.]
[Roster mentioned you directly, so they’ll probably accept you if you apply.]
“Oh, I see. Got it—hold on a sec.”
Ji-han shot a quick message to his manager, Kim Su-ho.
Su-ho, what do you think of this RP Corps thing?
Seems fine to me. If you want to deepen your role-playing, go for it.
So it’s not a bad idea to learn?
Not at all. Knowing you, you’ll obsess over it if I don’t note it down, so I’ll remember it for you. Focus on Funk Sul-ri for now.
Ji-han chuckled warmly at the considerate reply.
“Alright then. Anyway—it’s almost server time.
Today we’ll hop right in, equip the new item Old Man Deok-bae made, and…”
His eyes gleamed with anticipation.
Week 3’s event—
the war between the mid- and lower-levels.
It was time for HAN, the fixer of Funk Sul-ri, to return.
“Ah, you’re here, Fishbowl Head.
I’ve lost count of how many nights I’ve stayed up for this.”
Old Man Deok-bae tossed a wrench onto his workbench with a clank.
He’d clearly been tuning something to the very end.
[Whoa…]
[What is that?]
[Looks awesome. Is he gonna attach that to his arm?]
[What’s that next to it, a spine?]
[That’s the patient’s spine, lol.]
[What! Give it back!]
[Wait—are those a set? Damn, that’s cool.]
“…Here. EA-01.
And next to it, the Neural Engraver.
My first and last masterpiece.
Built according to the blueprint in that chipset you gave me—
with some of my own tweaks added in.
Do you like it?”
On the workbench lay a black mechanical arm, its surface segmented like cracked armor—sleek yet rugged.
Ji-han approached and lifted it carefully.
[Whoa… looks heavy.]
[Can he even move with that?]
[His body’s unmodified except for the head, right? Is that possible?]
[Lol if anyone can, it’s Ji-han.]
It was heavier than expected, enough to surprise him—
but there was no way he’d come this far and not try it on.
“Then, please install it.”
“Gladly. Lie down on that bed, Fishbowl Head.”
As he did so—
“We’ll have to connect it to your nerves, so it’ll sting a bit.
But just close your eyes—it’ll be done before you know it.”
Old Man Deok-bae injected something, and Ji-han’s vision began to blur.
“When you open your eyes again, things will feel… very different.”
Darkness swallowed the screen—
the implant installation sequence.
Five minutes of real time later—
a message appeared.
Implant installation successful. [Equipped: EA-01, Neural Engraver]
The blackout ended.
“Huff… huff… huff!”
A rush of air—
a sense of release, as if a heavy pressure had vanished.
Even though his “fishbowl” head meant he wasn’t exactly breathing through his nose,
it felt like he could.
“So, how does it feel, lad? Different, eh?”
Old Man Deok-bae looked exhausted.
Ji-han stood from the bed and flexed his new arm.
Clank, clunk… hissss!
A sharp mechanical sound, a rush of pneumatics.
It was his arm, but somehow not quite his.
After moving it around a few times, he finally said—
“Feels good. But… might need some oiling.”
[LOL]
[Did he just say “needs oiling”?]
[That’s hilarious.]
[It is squeaky, though, haha.]
[Guess he forgot to add lubricant, lol.]
The chat burst into laughter at Ji-han’s cheeky line.
