Chapter 6: God of Skills (1)

    “………”

    Raidel’s lips parted slightly as she stared at her monitor.

    Just moments ago, she, Delbung #3, and Silverhair Silverhair had cleared the steel ball obstacle stage.

    A beat later, a gasp escaped from Raidel’s mouth, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed.

    “……Wow.”

    「That was insane」

    「They actually cleared it…….」

    「Holy sh*t, that’s even possible?」

    「I’m getting chills now」

    The chat was flooded with shock and awe.

    It didn’t appear often, so not many people had seen it firsthand—

    But the steel ball stage they just cleared was one of the most notoriously bullsh*t levels in all of Chain Roller.

    More than twenty massive steel balls rolled around unpredictably, slamming into players.

    And on top of that, the three cleverly hidden balls were what really made the stage infamous.

    Even players with decent skill would end up getting blindsided and start wondering, “Is this a bug?”

    Silverhair Silverhair had basically grabbed Raidel and Delbung #3 by the scruffs of their necks and dragged them to the finish.

    “I literally just held down one direction key and somehow we cleared it.”

    「That chain control was f*cking art」

    「Didn’t know that kind of finesse was even possible with physicals」

    Pulling the chain to control other players wasn’t supposed to allow for delicate movement.

    The feature wasn’t designed for fine-tuned control in the first place.

    And yet Silverhair had controlled them with such precision, it was like they were operating the other players’ keyboards directly.

    Honestly, it wasn’t even a matter of skill anymore. It bordered on sheer artistry.

    “Anyway, Silverhair? Seriously, we only made it thanks to you. If you weren’t here, I don’t even know what we would’ve done.”

    Raidel clapped lightly, finally composed.

    A stark contrast to the deep sighs she’d been letting out just minutes ago.

    The game was already difficult enough, and then they got hit with a completely unfair course.

    She’d been seconds away from resetting the room.

    But Silverhair’s skill had exceeded expectations.

    With gameplay that felt like a bug in itself, they cleared what had seemed impossible in one go.

    Maybe this was a guardian angel sent to save her from the hell of this trash game.

    ‘People are definitely going to say I got carried, though.’

    Not that she could help it.

    Getting hit with something like the steel ball stage was just plain bad luck.

    If you get screwed over that hard, there’s nothing wrong with getting carried by a pro… or so Raidel convinced herself.

    “Anyway, now that we’ve cleared that bullsh*t course, the next one should be more manageable, right?”

    That’s what she said, but she wasn’t at ease.

    ‘If we fall now, we’re screwed.’

    The first obstacle stage only sent you back to the beginning if you failed.

    Even if you messed up, you didn’t lose anything.

    It was the first obstacle, so you could attempt it without much pressure.

    But that wasn’t the case anymore.

    If they got hit by something now and returned to the start—the primordial village

    They’d have to go through that steel ball hell all over again.

    It wasn’t a guaranteed reset upon failure, but…

    Worst-case scenario, that was exactly what would happen.

    Sure, she had gotten carried by Silverhair and cleared it once.

    But the stage itself was hard enough that she couldn’t relax.

    While she was lost in thought, they reached the next stage.

    “Uh…? Wait, were there always this many traps?”

    Raidel’s voice trembled slightly.

    Her pupils darted back and forth as she took in the strange sight on screen.

    Parts of the floor shimmered with a bluish hue, and a small sign read “Gravity Reversal Zone.”

    “Those are… bows, right?”

    As a bonus, countless bows lined both sides of the path.

    They were auto-firing, constantly raining arrows. Literal infinite ammo—there was no sign of it stopping.

    Just watching it made her dizzy.

    Gravity reversal zones.

    And arrows flying in from both sides.

    Each would’ve been tough on its own.

    Now they were stacked together.

    Even just dodging the arrows seemed to be on par with dodging the steel balls from earlier.

    And now, there was gravity reversal on top of it.

    “This looks way too hard……”

    She had reset before, but the 4-hour play session had taught her something:

    If a stage looks hard, it’s hard.

    There were no surprise easy clears in this game. No stage that just looked hard but turned out to be free.

    And this one, by any reasonable standard, looked absolutely insane.

    「Delbung! Get it together!」

    「We’ve entered the nightmare zone LOL」

    「Delbung’s gonna cry」

    「Your luck is unreal」

    「What even is that stage?」

    「Two back-to-back hell maps wtf」

    「You’re just gonna float in the air and get turned into a pincushion lolol」

    The chat exploded.

    Most of the commenters were viewers who had watched other Chain Roller streams.

    ‘We’re f*cked.’

    With some streaming experience under her belt, Raidel could assess a stage’s difficulty at a glance.

    “Sigh, let me at least take a look.”

    She swallowed hard and narrowed her eyes. A habit she had when she got serious.

    First, the blue patches on the floor.

    Small orbs were floating in the air.

    They weren’t obstacles—just indicators showing that this was a gravity reversal zone.

    Gravity reversal zones were simple in theory:

    Enter the area, and your body floats upward.

    If the anti-gravity effect was strong, you’d float higher.

    If it was weak, you’d drop lower.

    Watching the orbs, she realized the gravity strength changed constantly—both over time and depending on where you stood.

    That’s when she understood why the chat was freaking out.

    Even with constant gravity reversal, it was already hard enough to deal with.

    But this zone wasn’t even consistent.

    ‘There’s no way to avoid it.’

    The sides were cliffs.

    And the entire path forward was covered in the glowing blue field.

    There was literally no way to go around it.

    ‘This is… this is going to end badly, isn’t it?’

    Enter the zone, float into the air.

    Then get nailed by a thousand arrows.

    There’s no death mechanic in the game, but you’d still get flung at high speed—

    Straight off the map, right back to the starting point.

    After repeating that 30 times, she’d rage-shoot her desk and quit.

    The most miserable ending imaginable was playing out in her head.

    ‘No, wait. There has to be timing.’

    Chain Roller was made by a deranged maniac, sure, but every stage had a way to clear it.

    It was always possible, no matter how hard.

    It was just that figuring it out was pure hell.

    ‘The floating orbs…’

    Those small orbs hovering above the blue field were the clue.

    They weren’t staying at fixed heights—they moved up and down with time.

    And the arrows, when you really looked, were also firing in a set rhythm.

    ‘Yeah, okay, but knowing that doesn’t help me!’

    There was a timing window, probably. She just couldn’t figure out what it was.

    「Go alreadyyyyyy」

    「You’re thinking too much」

    「Just move ittttt」

    “Hmm?”

    Among the flood of chat, a lot of people were now telling her to hurry up.

    It hadn’t been that long—she’d barely spent any time thinking—

    But there were a lot of pushy messages telling her to hurry up and go.

    Of course, there were always viewers like that.

    But what stood out was the volume.

    It hadn’t been this many before. Raidel tilted her head and opened her mouth.

    “Guys, stop rushing me. If I get hit by one arrow, it’s a one-way trip back to the beginning. This stream is—huh?”

    She realized something.

    There were way more messages than usual.

    Her usual chat speed felt like it had been cranked up to 2.5x.

    She glanced down—

    “Huh?!”

    Viewer count had passed 5,000.

    Raidel’s stream normally sat around 2,000 viewers. This was a rare spike.

    Sure, it was a trending game, so an uptick was expected.

    But doubling her viewership out of nowhere? That wasn’t normal.

    Unbeknownst to her, most of these new viewers were coming in from online communities.

    Chain Roller was trending.

    And then there was Silverhair Silverhair, who cleared the hellish steel ball stage in one shot.

    Plus Raidel, the streamer with absolutely garbage RNG who got hit with two nightmare maps back-to-back.

    The combination of these two clickbait-worthy elements had drawn a huge crowd.

    Raidel, unaware of all this, simply muttered:

    “Hmm, seems like we’ve got a lot of new faces today. Guess there really are a ton of roller demons out there. Alright then, let’s go ahead and move on.”

    Despite her words, she typed into the in-game chat.

    [Raidel: Silverhair, have you done this course before?]

    Typing a chat message—something that technically slowed down the pace.

    But the flood of “hurry up” messages in the chat had noticeably decreased.

    In the end, what viewers wanted was simply for the streamer to be doing something.

    Even if it wasn’t gameplay—if it was related to the stream—it felt like “progress.”

    Raidel, ever the experienced streamer, had skillfully redirected their attention.

    Sure enough, the “go go go” spam had dropped significantly.

    ‘There’s no way they haven’t done this before.’

    Silverhair Silverhair.

    Definitely a high-level player. No—maybe even so high-level they’d become a new element entirely.

    No one else could’ve cleared the steel ball stage—an ultra-rare, ultra-difficult level—the way they had.

    And if they were that skilled, then this stage, which appeared more frequently than that one, must be familiar too.

    [Silverhair Silverhair: Never seen it before?]

    [Silverhair Silverhair: But judging by the floating orbs, it looks like the gravity strength changes.]

    [Silverhair Silverhair: If we time it right, we can probably get through.]

    “You’ve never seen it before?”

    Raidel tilted her head at the unexpected response.

    Was it a joke, or were they serious?

    [Raidel: Really? This is your first time seeing this course?]

    [Silverhair Silverhair: Yeah;;]

    [Raidel: Ah…….]

    [Raidel: I thought you were a veteran after watching you dodge all those steel balls.]

    [Raidel: How did you even dodge them like that?]

    [Silverhair Silverhair: ;;]

    [Silverhair Silverhair: You just watch and dodge.]

    「LOLOLOLOLOLOL」

    「You can just watch and dodge, huh?」

    「That sh*t looked insane even on casual viewing」

    「Are they a pro gamer or what lol」

    Silverhair’s comment set off another frenzy in Raidel’s chat.

    Trying to cover her flustered expression, Raidel spoke up.

    “Ahem. I mean, I guess that makes sense. Silverhair, do you think you could… like… dodge your way through this one too?”

    「No shot this time lol」

    「If they cleared the steel balls, they can probably do this too」

    「Gravity reversal will keep them floating in place tho」

    「Even a pro can’t dodge this one」

    「This one’s not about reflexes」

    ‘Yeah, this is going to be rough.’

    Raidel read the chat and thought.

    The steel ball stage was all about raw reflexes and physical skill.

    But this next one had a different kind of limit.

    Anti-gravity.

    No matter how good your reflexes were, if you were floating in the air, you had no way to dodge.

    While Raidel stared nervously at the relentless storm of arrows—

    [Silverhair Silverhair: Shall we give it a go?]

    A message from Silverhair popped up.


    TL Notes:

    • 태초 마을 (Primordial Village): A meme for the game’s starting point. Falling here means a hard reset.
    • 샷건을 치다 (Shotgun the desk): Slang for slamming your desk in gamer rage.
    • 방송 진행 (stream progression): Often viewers will spam “ㄱㄱ” to ask the streamer to move the game forward.
    • 버스 받다 (getting a bus ride): Slang for getting carried through content by someone better.
    • 고인물 (stale water): A long-time, high-skill player. The joke here is the character might be so stale they’ve turned into crude oil.

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