Chapter 110: The Sorcery of Identity: ArcanePunk 1009

“From what I’ve seen, willpower is crucial for using magic. What matters most is a vivid image to overlay the laws onto, and the appropriate use of mana to match that image.”

“……”

“What?”

“Yurim-san. This is a game. Give me a proper answer.”

“I’m Yurim-chan. And what do you mean, ‘game’? That’s scary.”

I started trembling because of Mai’s sudden change in demeanor.

How could she pressure a poor, parentless child like me? I almost cried.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those adults who say things like ‘Either get on or get lost’? I’m disappointed in you.”

“Mai doesn’t have a dead wife or a kid she left with relatives at the age of three. And drop the act, Han Yurim. You’re the one who handed off all those homemade mods to the company—that’s why the game’s turned into this mess.”

“Unni, please get a grip. You don’t work at the company. You’re a part-timer at Diner.”

I guess what just happened shocked her pretty badly. She kept spouting nonsense—maybe she really needed to see a doctor.

You turned someone into a mental patient in seconds. Damn.

The person who invited Han Yurim to the Life Server made a huge mistake.

Wow. But seriously, what is this real-time subtitle feature? There’s literally no delay.

Mai and I were speaking in Japanese, yet Korean viewers had no issue following along.

That was thanks to the real-time translation subtitle function I implemented on a whim.

For a super developer, it’s a simple trick.

“You just looked at the chat window, didn’t you?”

“Mai-unni, what are you talking about? How would I see a chat window in real life?”

“Sure, Yurim-chan. You’re right about everything. So tell me—how do I use magic?”

“I just told you. You need a strong mental image and use your mana appropriately in line with that.”

Mai didn’t believe me even though I gave her the answer. It was frustrating.

Then she exploded.

“How is that even supposed to work?!”

“Just trust me this once.”

“Fine. I’ll do it your way, Yurim-chan. You’re saying I should unleash my imagination to its fullest and desperately wish for it? Like that’s gonna—”

Fwoosh. A spark of flame shot out.

Mai stood there slack-jawed.

“…Eh?”

“The world’s too cold these days. No one believes in sincerity. Mai-unni, I’m cold.”

“Eh?”

Mai turned into a broken cassette player. She must’ve never imagined being a mage, not even once in her life.

That’s how harsh and difficult her environment must’ve been. It made me feel bad for her.

“So? How does it feel to wield magic? Isn’t it amazing?”

“What is this?”

“It’s magic. Unni. I know you’re excited, but you need to stay grounded.”

“Yurim-san? What did you do? No, I mean… this is just a game, right?”

“Unni. Please get a hold of yourself. This isn’t a game—it’s real.”

Mai started rambling nonsense again. A hospital wouldn’t be enough anymore. She needed a long recovery in a scenic place.

“Should we go on a cruise? Take a full month off and rest. Call it a healing vacation.”

No need to worry about money.

Now that she’s a mage, Mai could earn infinitely.

What just happened?

I didn’t actually see the screen, but did she cast a skill just by thinking?

Is that even possible?

Viewers launched into a debate.

They were discussing whether it was really possible to use a skill just by thinking about it.

How quaint.

Of course, it was possible. Compared to that, the real marvel was the cloud gaming service that magically erased packet loss and gave us zero delay.

“Yurim-chan, you looked at the chat again, didn’t you? Can we please just forget about the server rules and talk like it’s real life, just this once? What the hell is all this?”

“There you go again. I didn’t see anything.”

I clapped my hands.

I had to stop Mai before she spiraled any further into conspiracy theories.

“Now that you’ve learned how to use magic, there’s only one thing left.”

“What?”

What do you mean, what? Practice, obviously.

We’ve got some unidentified enemy picking a fight, and you’re not gonna prepare?

You’re not gonna beat the game?

“Unni. A true gamer must always reach the ending.”

“Weren’t you just saying this is real life? Now you’re spoiling things? Then explain what the hell you did to this game.”

“Game? What are you talking about—uh…”

Cut.

Novelive’s light-hearted launch of the ArcanePunk 1009 server drew immediate attention.

Not for any special reason—just because anything Novelive does always grabs attention.

It was only natural. They were the number one VTuber company in the industry, after all.

[304]

The server prepared for this Novelive… something feels off.

[305>>304]

It’s basically confirmed that Han Yurim did something again.

[306]

It’s nothing like the ArcanePunk 1009 I know lol.

And Han Yurim’s bizarre intervention only fueled that attention further.

The idea of casting skills with just a thought—

If she had built the game herself from scratch or used some sort of special device, it might’ve been understandable, but adding just a few mods and ending up with this?

It was just too hard to believe.

When enough people gather, you’ll always find a variety of personalities.

Novelive was no exception.

Ambitious people, those who wanted a slow and steady pace, those who streamed casually, those who gave it their all, entertaining people, boring people, talented and untalented alike—countless types coexisted in Novelive.

Naturally, some of them were exceptionally good at games.

Thanks to the players who analyzed and dug deep into the game, ArcanePunk 1009 (Han Yurim’s version) started to take shape.

What mattered most was the image—how vivid, precise, and personalized the image one could form. That was the core of the magic.

Just by listening to the descriptions, it was hard to tell if this was a game or actual magic. But surprisingly, it worked as a game.

With mere imagination, only primitive and simple spells were possible. To learn proper magic, you needed the system’s support.

Especially when it came to the so-called Unique Magic—the inherent magic one was born with—the system was practically essential.

Anyway, thanks to the effort of the participants in this environment, the current Novelive ArcanePunk 1009 (Han Yurim’s version) server had turned into something like a Warring States era.

Government factions, mafia groups, neutrals, fixers, shadow organizations… Numerous interest groups clashed, while Mai trained her magic alone in her room.

As Mai toyed with flames, Han Yurim let out a sigh behind her.

“Haa… Unni. I told you. The reason everyone has different Unique Magic is because everyone has different values, different lives.

But your magic, it has no soul.

Put simply, it doesn’t feel ‘ripe.’”

“You. Come here.”

Mai grabbed Han Yurim and threw her onto the bed before returning to her magic studies.

Mai had picked a build rich in magical talent from the start.

So even though she hadn’t been practicing for long, she’d already become quite the capable mage.

Fourth Tier.

That was the level where one was officially considered a mage.

“If you think of it from a level design perspective, it’d be more fun to make rank-ups harder, but this is just a short-term server.
So I made it easy.”

Mai had gotten used to Han Yurim only talking about reality when it was convenient for her—and hiding behind “server rules” when it wasn’t.

It was obvious that she continued this just because Mai’s reactions amused her, so she no longer paid much attention.

Mai smiled and asked,

“Yurim-chan, aren’t you gonna learn magic?”

“Magic is hard for someone like me. I’m just a child, you know.”

Han Yurim replied casually and hummed as she swung her feet on the bed.

Mai narrowed her eyes.

Not learning magic in ArcanePunk 1009 was basically falling behind.

You wouldn’t be able to enjoy the game properly.

Would someone this obsessed with the game really do something that made her unable to enjoy it? That didn’t make sense.

Surely she had chosen traits or talents related to magic…

Even though they were together every day, there wasn’t the slightest sign that Han Yurim was learning magic.

It was just too strange.

‘Is she secretly learning magic? But why would she need to hide it?’

Mai furrowed her brows, unable to figure it out.

That’s when—

“Unni.”

Han Yurim slowly opened her mouth.

“So, what are you going to do about the Playmer family?”

At those words, Mai crossed her arms and fell into thought.

The Playmer family. A magic clan related to her own bloodline—and the ones who had sent assassins.

As soon as Han Yurim found out who the enemies were, she had said,

“Looks like an heir issue. With your family in shambles, your survival puts the successor spot at risk. It’s a cliché.”

And she’d been right.

The fact that they kept sending hitmen nonstop only proved it.

Even the hitman who came yesterday had been a mage—it had been a tough battle.

If she hadn’t reached the Fourth Tier at the moment of crisis, Mai would’ve lost.

“I have to deal with it. But…”

“But?”

“I don’t know if I can right now.”

Mai was only a Fourth Tier mage at the moment.

Even if that made her an officially recognized mage, there were plenty of people above her.

She was still far too weak to take on a powerful magic clan all by herself.

“Why not just try facing them? When a quest pops up, you’re supposed to attempt it first. That’s how games work.”

Well, Han Yurim was a very successful game developer.

She wouldn’t have created an impossible mission.

Considering how easy it was to climb the ranks, maybe if she fought first, she could level up and grow stronger in the process.

Mai slightly parted her lips.

“Then should I trust you and go for it?”

“Mai-unni, how could you trust a child like me? That’s how you get burned.”

“Just let me twist your nose once, please.”

And so, under the banner of “Destroy the Playmer Family,” Mai left the safe zone—

Only to return to the hotel in just an hour.

The reason was simple.

“Mai-unni. It’s bad. At this rate, the entire city might vanish.”

“……”

Someone had already erased the Playmer family from existence.

No—

To be precise, someone had finished preparing to erase the entire world itself, and had begun executing that plan.

‘Is Akane the protagonist again?’

Mai muttered quietly to herself.

It was a scenario she was all too familiar with.