Chapter 1: Crawling Chaos[Part 1]
1
Clearly, I fell from the rooftop of a building.
The sensation of my body shattering lingered.
But with this new body, everything became a hazy memory of the past.
— Rise.
The vision I lost to the hero’s sword has returned.
When I open my eyes, the room comes into clear view, pristine and sharp.
— Rise.
Perhaps because I fused with that immense being, my tone feels unnaturally rigid.
But it doesn’t matter. This body belongs to me now.
“I’m awake.”
When I respond to the voice in the darkness, a crisp, commanding husky voice echoes back.
It reminds me of a cover song artist I used to listen to fondly.
Rising from the bed, I walk toward a full-length mirror on my right, where a woman stands, exuding an air of detachment.
Like wiping dust from a surface, her personal details slowly imprint in my mind.
Her name is Lathy Teparon.
“…Quite a unique style.”
The unusual attire, far removed from that of an ordinary person, catches my eye—the same attire I saw before merging with the great being.
Yet, my emotions remain untouched.
It’s as if my emotional core has vanished; my heart is calm, my mind clear. Or perhaps not clear—maybe it feels empty because it’s so tangled.
The broken voice from the darkness that saved me now sounds clear and pure after my fusion with the great being.
— Note. Read it. My daughter.
The grotesque sound, like countless drums pounding at once, is gone. Was it my imagination? Or does it no longer reach me because of this new body?
Turning my head slowly, I notice a desk in the corner.
On it sits a single desktop computer.
The walls are painted a stark white, yet the desk, the computer, and Lathy standing before them seem cloaked in an out-of-place darkness.
I pick up a memo placed in front of the keyboard.
[Daily Schedule]
> 6:00 AM – Wake up
> Stream (minimum 4 hours daily)
> 10:00 PM – Sleep
It’s a schedule so simple it hardly needed to be written.
Eight hours of sleep. Four hours of streaming. That’s all.
As I fiddle with the choker around my neck and the handcuffs on my wrists, the chains attached to them clinking, I understand.
I’ve made a contract with the voice in the darkness, and I belong to it now.
“Am I… your slave?”
With the response, I inherit Lathy Teparon’s memories.
Like a flood of information pouring in right after possession, a vast history spanning endless time shakes my mind.
— You. My envoy. Loyal hound. Servant. Child.
The one who appeared in the black mist to save me when I faced death at the hero’s hands.
A lofty being, always bored.
The Demon King, plagued by an unquenchable thirst.
The moment I clearly recognize the one sending thoughts into my mind and the existence of Lathy Teparon, my questions about why I must stream vanish.
Though it’s my first time streaming myself, my memories of helping Reuel remain, so it shouldn’t be a problem.
“Can I stream however I want?”
The answer comes quickly.
— You. Do as you please.
— Chaos. Bring it to the world. Anything. Fine.
I ask again, prompted by the blasphemous voice resonating within me.
“What should I call my benefactor? As Lathy Teparon remembers, may I call you Father?”
My will, now merged with Lathy Teparon’s unyielding purpose, begins to drive this reborn self forward.
— Do so. You. Me. One. Or. Child.
In a solemn voice, I slowly utter the title.
“Understood, Father.”
And Father speaks.
— Daughter. Hurry. Play your grotesque symphony.
If I stream and bring chaos, Father will be pleased.
Without looking back, I press the computer’s power button.
Leaning back in an ornate black chair adorned with gold trim, better suited for a dining table, I wait briefly until a familiar desktop screen appears.
Out of habit, I check the date and time.
Five years have reversed, yet Lathy Teparon’s memories make it feel natural.
To the great Father, the Demon King, who transcends even time, this is no grand feat.
Still, my memories urge me to confirm something directly.
Since I’ve traveled back in time, my precious one must be alive.
With an urgent heart, I open the internet, typing a website address with a few typos.
dreamlandtv.com
As the dreamy, familiar interface loads, I search for the name I’ve called hundreds of times.
“…Reuel…”
It’s her, without a doubt.
A fledgling with white wings, just beginning to soar, with fifty viewers.
Reuel.
Only after confirming Reuel is alive do I breathe a sigh of relief.
But if time flows like this, Reuel will die again.
Five years from now, she’ll be brutally killed by a hunter, unaware of her fate.
If I do nothing and let time pass, that future is certain.
After some thought, I ask Father.
“When can I leave this place?”
The answer comes swiftly.
— Now. Difficult. You. Know.
— Worshippers. Many. Needed.
— Now. You. Newborn.
— Many enemies. Weak. You. Targeted.
Though explained cryptically, I immediately understand I need to grow my fanbase.
To fend off those targeting Lathy Teparon’s neck, I need more power, more fans.
Among the countless ability users in this world, some are enemies, and as Father says, some are highly dangerous.
What I need now is power.
There’s no need to shout for a status window in the air.
By closing my eyes and focusing on my essence, I can check my status and abilities.
[Lathy Teparon / Abilities]
— Crawling Chaos (-), Voice That Shakes the Mind (-), Eyes That See Emotions (-), Veil That Distorts Truth (-), Eccentric (-).
Though Lathy Teparon’s memories already gave me a rough idea, I confirm the powers this body holds once more. Then I make a quick decision.
Increase my worshippers and leave this place to save Reuel.
That is the sole reason for my and Lathy Teparon’s existence.
To grow quickly, I recall the content planning sessions I had with Reuel.
It took her over a year to go from obscurity to fifty viewers, so ordinary methods won’t do.
The streaming platform Dreamland is a complete red ocean.
To break through the competition, I need a distinct identity.
But as I try to brainstorm, the overwhelming thoughts dominating my mind—boredom, ennui, listlessness—all belong to Lathy Teparon.
“Father, sorry, but do you have any cigarettes?”
To maintain my reason and control this body, which generates endless thoughts, I need to fall back on old habits and smoke.
2
There’s a streamer here, diving into the depths.
Nickname: IcePunch. Real name: Kim Bingkwon.
With 420,000 subscribers and an average of 5,000 live viewers on DreamlandTV, he’s a major player.
His main content is villain hunting, and IcePunch has rapidly risen over the past year, sticking to his signature “One-Punch” style.
In a world overrun with villains, heroes naturally draw a lot of popularity.
After a hectic year, he somehow managed to hire an editor to handle his videos overnight.
But the role of sidekick and on-site manager remains vacant.
He’s kept it open for half a year, hoping to fill it with a woman who matches his ideal type.
Then he spots someone who catches his eye.
A woman who’s been doing nothing but smoking half a pack of cigarettes already.
She looks like she started streaming just to earn some pocket money and is clearly clueless about what to do.
“She’s perfect.”
— Holy sht
— Crazy btch… Crazy btch…
— Why’s she smoking so damn well? Why, why?
Jet-black hair, almost charcoal, thick and heavy.
Pale white skin that contrasts sharply with her light-swallowing hair.
Her round, dark ruby eyes and captivating gaze make it feel like she might leap out of the screen, baring her fangs.
A leather choker and handcuffs adorn her neck and wrists, with chains dangling from them.
A silk crop top reveals her navel and cleavage, paired with a dangerously short leather skirt.
Her entire body is dressed in black, as if drenched in ink.
“But what’s with the chains and handcuffs?”
— Is she a slave?
— Heard rich folks secretly buy slaves. Is that for real?
“A slave, huh… What if I mess with her and get screwed over?”
— Probably fine
— Look at her outfit. Seems like someone forced her to stream.
— Bet her owner’s into NTR, lol.
“NTR is fcking… You bstard, what’s your kink? One-minute ban.”
— Tyranny, ugh
— If Bingkwon goes for her, it’s basically NTR, lol.
— He bans us for speaking facts.
“Anyway, shut up. I’m joining her stream. Don’t you bstards flood in and make a mess, you shts.”
— Sure, the only top-tier hero without a sidekick~
— Bingkwon’s forever alone, forever alone, forever alone, forever alone, forever alone.
— Total failure.
Channel created today, zero subscribers.
A heartfelt nickname, “BlackHound,” matching her on-camera appearance.
Kim Bingkwon dives into her stream, which has just three viewers.
“Who’s this now?”
A captivating husky voice greets Kim Bingkwon as he enters.
The chat on IcePunch’s channel explodes.
— Fck, that voice is insane.
— Oh no, my heart…
— Eyes, voice, vibe—the holy trinity.
— I’m losing it.
— We gotta move in!
“Calm down, you shts. It’s not like you’ve never seen a woman like this. You didn’t act this way when we hunted ‘RedFox’!”
The chat shows only four viewers, including Kim Bingkwon, but no one’s typing.
BlackHound, having finished a pack of cigarettes, picks up the pack on her desk and taps it lightly.
“Is this chick gonna chain-smoke forever?”
— Already worried about your future manager’s health, huh?
— Tell her yourself, lol.
— Boss Kim, you gonna make a move or what? Let’s go!
“Alright, fine! You bstards are so damn pushy.”
Kim Bingkwon clears his throat.
— Crazy bstard…
— This guy types with his mouth or what?
— And this idiot’s a hero…
The viewers roast his foolish antics, but his focus is on BlackHound.
Kim Bingkwon’s small hands, small for an adult man, slowly type a message.
[BlackHound / Live – 3 viewers]
— Hello
But BlackHound isn’t looking at the chat.
She lights a new cigarette, takes a deep drag, and exhales a cloud of smoke followed by a big yawn.
IcePunch’s chat erupts into laughter.
[IcePunch / Live – 5,229 viewers]
— LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
— Completely ignored, lol!
— A 5,000-viewer star got snubbed by a nobody?
— Bing-sht! Bing-sht! Bing-sht! Bing-sht! Bing-sht! Bing-sht!
Kim Bingkwon is dumbfounded.
Incredulous, he raises his voice sharply.
“F*ck, does this chick even know how to check her chat?”