Chapter 67

Chapter 67
## Chapter 67: Challenge Me via Livestream

I observed the footage in silence. To be blunt, the content was textbook clickbait—essentially a “call-out” video. Whenever a polarizing topic trends, people like this jump on the bandwagon, broadcasting their takes and weaving narratives to snag an audience.

I didn’t particularly care whether I enjoyed such content or not. As long as it wasn’t a crime, I wasn’t one to judge; every man has to earn a living somehow.

“Wow. I think I get the picture now.”

The creator was a Hunter who apparently had a massive following for this specific brand of commentary. The sheer volume of views and subscribers made that clear. His skepticism regarding my recent activities was blunt and to the point: he believed the South Korean government was manufacturing my fame.

—The economy is stagnant at 0% growth, and the grip on resources is tightening. In dark times, the public craves a savior, right?

According to him, the state needed a shiny distraction to mask their domestic failures.

—Consider the Bratzk’s Fridge incident. It was the perfect lure. In reality, what has Yoo Chan-seok actually accomplished on home soil?

Just Gyodong Island.

—A beginner Hunter clearing a Rank 3 Erosion Core? Sure, that’s fine. But if you look at his track record since then, doesn’t it seem like he’s intentionally avoiding missions within Korea?

The man certainly knew how to spin a tale.

—It’s nearly impossible for domestic citizens to verify exploits happening abroad. Let’s be honest: Daemon, Siberia, England’s Dover—it’s all happening in foreign lands.

He wasn’t entirely wrong there. Since the emergence of monsters and Erosion Zones, international travel had become restricted, leaving nations isolated. News from across the border was usually nothing more than unverified rumors, as official communication channels were largely disrupted.

No sane Korean would travel internationally these days; it was viewed as perilous, impoverished, and chaotic. Just as the video claimed, my foreign achievements were little more than myths to the local public.

—Digital records and stats can be manipulated. Bratzk’s Fridge? We have no proof that core was actually neutralized. Plus, the legendary Lee Se-eun was on that raid.

So, the implication was that Han Sang-ah and I were just window dressing while Lee Se-eun did the heavy lifting and let us take the credit?

—And don’t forget Han Sang-geum, who was also at Bratzk. She’s the granddaughter of the Gold Sheep Group’s Chairman. Doesn’t that smell like a backroom deal?

A deal? If he only knew the reality of my encounter with that old man. I actually felt a pang of indignation.

—Yoo Chan-seok is a product of PR. I won’t take away his first win, but the “achievements” the media has been feeding us since then? They deserve a lot more skepticism.

The video cut to black. I clicked my tongue and glanced at the comment section.

“The feedback is exactly what you’d expect.”

People who liked me wouldn’t be watching this guy in the first place. Predictably, the top comments were all echoing doubts about my legitimacy.

“Right…”

I handed the phone back to its owner with a thin smile, offering no further comment.

“I appreciate you showing me this.”

Once I was alone, I stood up and stretched my limbs.

“I was actually looking for some good fuel to start a fire.”

This was actually a stroke of luck. The uploader hadn’t intended to do me a favor, but this was going to work out perfectly for my plans.

The man behind the screen was a Hunter named So Hwi. A quick background check confirmed he possessed genuine talent; you couldn’t survive in the content game without at least some level of actual skill to back up your claims.

I pulled out my own device and dialed the President of the Korea Hunter Association.

“Mr. President, I have a small request.”

—Is this about that viral video? Don’t worry, the Association is already drafting an official rebuttal…

They were already moving to protect the brand. However, I had a different approach in mind.

“Don’t bother with that. I’m going to release a video of my own.”

There was a long silence on the other end before the President spoke with clear hesitation.

—I’ll need to know exactly what you’re planning to post before I can give the green light.

“Relax, just watch. It’ll be entertaining.”

I gave him a brief rundown of my vision. His response was immediate and negative.

—Do you have any idea how the public will perceive you after that?

“Who cares? I’m not trying to land a commercial deal.”

Let the people who live off their reputation worry about image management. That wasn’t my path.

—Think about your long-term career, kid.

“I hear you, Mr. President. But my plan is to keep tearing through Rank 1 Erosion Cores. I don’t really have the luxury of worrying about the ‘long-term.'”

The future? Forget the future. In this line of work, you could be erased during a raid tomorrow. People with dangerous professions don’t usually plan for retirement. You never know when your time is up.

—Dammit… you know that if you weren’t currently our biggest draw, I’d be tearing you a new one right now?

“Then it’s a good thing I’m popular.”

The reason for the call was simple: I needed the Association’s stamp of approval and their technical resources for the production.

—So, your plan is to post a thirty-second clip on our official channel? You’re going to call out So Hwi and challenge him to a fight if he’s got a problem with you?

“Exactly. And if So Hwi accepts, I want the sparring session broadcasted live.”

The Association’s backing would be vital once the video went live.

“If he chickens out, I’ll just find another way to handle it.”

—You’re really not going to drop this, are you?

It was the most direct path. If they refused, I was prepared to go rogue and do it myself.

—Fine. It’s better if we keep this under our roof. But if this blows up in your face, the consequences are yours alone.

“Much appreciated.”

With the hurdles cleared, I set up a quick recording. I didn’t bother with a creative title.

**[This is Yoo Chan-seok.]**

“Hey, I’m Yoo Chan-seok. I recently stumbled across a pretty hilarious video,” I began, staring into the lens. I didn’t hold back, naming So Hwi’s channel directly.

“There’s a specific type of person I can’t stand: those who talk big but have zero substance. Apparently, this So Hwi guy is a Hunter.”

Records showed he hadn’t stepped into a dungeon in two years. He was just like those representatives from Taebaek.

“Honestly, it’s pathetic. While other Hunters are putting their lives on the line against monsters, this guy has spent the last two years hiding in his room, making a living by talking trash about the people actually doing the work. Have you no pride?”

I didn’t actually find it that disgusting—everyone has to pay the bills, and choosing a safe job is logical. But he had made me his target, and that was a declaration of war. Since he swung first, I felt no obligation to be polite or respect his feelings.

“Oh, and regarding the theory that I’m a puppet hero created by the government? Here’s the real secret.”

I leaned in, scratching my head with a mock-awkward expression.

“In reality, I’m a biological weapon developed by the Illuminati and a secret underground Nazi faction. We’re currently waging a shadow war against the Freemasons and their global financial backers.”

I gave the camera a very clear middle finger.

“So Hwi, was it? If you’re going to talk shit, at least make it interesting, you hack.”

I cleared my throat and got serious.

“You’re claiming I’m a fraud with no talent—that’s the crux of your argument, right?”

I stood up and walked right into the camera’s personal space.

“Then come find out for yourself. Post a reply if you’ve got the guts. You pick the time and the place, we’ll go live, and we’ll settle this with a fight.”

That was it. I had no interest in ad revenue, so I kept it brief.

“Wait, are you seriously intended to put this on the official Korea Hunter Association channel?” the camera crew asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“Yep. The President already gave the okay.”

If their boss signed off on it, they didn’t have much room to argue.

“Well, if he said yes, then I guess we’re rolling with it.”

Immediately after the shoot, the file was uploaded to the official channel. The President likely loathed the content—the swearing and the aggressive taunts were a stain on the Association’s professional image. But they knew that the engagement from this controversy would be massive.

“Things are about to get very loud.”

—

So Hwi stared at the feedback on his latest upload, his expression darkening. He knew exactly what this meant.

“I’m in trouble.”

His entire career was built on metrics and reading the room. He was an expert at gauging public interest.

“This guy is a maniac. How did the Association even let this get posted?”

The short video of Yoo Chan-seok on the official government-affiliated channel was a disaster for him. It was a masterpiece of provocation—high impact and impossible to ignore. It took his entire narrative and boiled it down to a simple ultimatum: Shut up and fight.

“I’m going to lose my mind.”

He could already see how much this simple premise was electrifying the internet.

“What does he think he’s going to gain from this?”

The pressure for him to respond was mounting, even as comments began to flood Yoo Chan-seok’s video, criticizing his lack of professionalism and crude attitude.

In the Hunter world, public image was everything. No one ever reacted with such raw hostility. That was exactly why So Hwi had felt safe posting his critique in the first place. Already, dozens of other creators were making “reaction” videos to their feud.

He couldn’t ignore it. To stay silent would be the end of his career.