God-Tier Enhancement Chapter 322: Episode 322All-Star Match (3)

Chapter 322: Episode 322_All-Star Match (3)

5.

The massive promotion continued, right up until the day of the broadcast.

In truth, even without promotion, this was the kind of content that would naturally draw record-breaking viewership.

A gathering of every big-na ranker in Fantastic World, including Han Simin.

’Who is truly number one?’

Given Fantastic World’s current structure, where, aside from level and guild rankings, there was no clear way to compare users, there hadn’t been any major outcry yet. But this event struck precisely at the thirst of users who wanted to cent their place and prove they stood above the rest—and the timing was perfect.

On top of that, the ti slot was Saturday at 8 p.m.

A perfectly chosen ti when n, won, children, and even the family dog could watch.

The variety shows that had dominated that ti slot until now had been holding strong, but this was a bold declaration that they were going to crush all of that.

And the response was just as intense as that ambition.

It could not be otherwise.

There were already analyses floating around that Fantastic World’s personal stream viewership was about to surpass that of terrestrial TV. Now, the very strears who accounted for most of those viewers had all posted notices on their channels announcing their appearance in the All-Star Match.

Even if only 80% of those strears’ regular viewers showed up, it would be a smash hit.

And when that much attention gathered in one place, it was only natural that even people who had not been interested would be drawn in.

Grumbling all the while, they tuned in because they had to keep up with the tis.

They at least needed to understand what people would be talking about at school or work the next day, nod along, or at least pretend to ask questions about the parts they did not know.

Just from the opening screen, the All-Star Match’s ratings broke 20%.

An absurd number.

A historic mont.

For a ga broadcast to reach this level...

People were amazed and excited, a collective thought rippling through the audience: ’So I’m not the only one. Everyone else thinks this is going to be fun, too.’

’I should order chicken tonight.’

Across the country, wait tis at fried chicken places started backing up by at least an hour. And not just chicken—pizza, burgers, jokbal, and every other delivery food imaginable saw their order volus explode.

Those who knew how to properly enjoy Fantastic World broadcasts even prepared extra snacks in advance, spread out blankets, and settled into comfortable positions.

—Looking at the final revised rules, it says 48 hours. Since it’s running in real ti, that ans at least a 48-hour live broadcast. I’m planning to pull an all-nighter with them and hold my pee as long as possible.

—Sweet. I put in my vacation request a week ago just for this.

—Oh. It’s starting. It’s starting. Wow. There are so many rankers.

And the broadcast moved along quickly.

With no script and no pre-recording, there was no room for filler.

A vast, enormous island—so large that even from high up in the sky, its full size could not be captured in a single view.

The optimal location to accommodate the 500 participants.

—Wow. It’s beautiful.

—Where is that? The scenery is insane.

—Look at that ocean. I want to go swimming.

—You idiots. That’s a virtual server.

Even knowing it was a temporary server inside the capsule, people swallowed hard.

You could feel how much preparation had gone into this broadcast just from the setup.

—I have a good feeling this won’t disappoint.

—They’re starting with this? You can already tell each zone of the island has a different concept, even if you can’t see it clearly.

—The PvP is going to be fun, but the monster raids will be sick too. If they throw in so absolutely ridiculous monsters that force users to team up to bring them down, that’d be insane.

Next ca the user profiles, their faces flashing by in quick succession.

Even so, the reaction was hot.

While so were still obscure enough that only a few viewers recognized them, most were so famous that even non-players knew their faces.

Those people had all gathered in one place.

They were dropped randomly onto the island, and in the cloudless sky, numbers shone brighter than the sun.

[48:00:00]

The mont the numbers began to fall.

The mont ti began to move.

The island began to breathe. No, the things on the island began to move.

In response, the users did not stand around in a daze; they sprang into action.

This event was a first for everyone, and this map was new to all of them.

Their levels were all reset to 1, but their classes were the ones they were most familiar with.

There was no production staff to explain the rules, nor any need for one.

The final objective was survival.

And the prize waiting at the end was massive.

“The prize money was raised to five million dollars. For real?”

“How much did it go up?”

“I heard they got a huge sponsorship.”

“Damn.”

“For that much money, I’d risk my life too.”

That was the biggest reason the All-Star Match was drawing so much attention.

*

To be honest, when Han Simin first accepted the invitation, he’d planned on just half-assing it.

His life was comfortable enough now that he didn’t need the tens of thousands of dollars ntioned in the initial email. He’d even briefly considered turning it down because it was a hassle, which said it all.

But the mont he thought that, the ambition he’d unknowingly buried reared its head and lashed him.

’This is several million dollars, not chump change.’

While the money wouldn’t make a noticeable dent in his bank account, the thought of his standards becoming so high that he’d turn down millions felt like a betrayal to his future self, so he accepted.

In any case, even if he didn’t win, the world was peaceful these days and there wasn’t much else to do. His mindset was basically to show up, kill so ti, and maybe make a little money.

However, the mont he arrived for filming and heard the final rules and prize money, his attitude changed completely.

“Holy shit. Five million?”

The production staff had even hidden that fact from the participants. They simply had everyone log into the server, explained the basic rules, dropped them onto the island, and then added that one crucial detail.

Not a single player asked them to repeat it.

“Fuck it. I’m putting my life on the line.”

Han Simin was no different.

The weight of twenty thousand dollars versus five million dollars was on a completely different level. It wasn’t that money was inherently noble or base, but Han Simin definitely drew a line when it ca to his own motivation.

The mont he landed on the island, he opened his hologram faster than anyone. There were points he could use to choose his starting weapon.

Without the slightest hesitation, he selected a shabby hamr that looked like it could shatter a skull if you slamd it against a rock.

He knew full well that this survival event was ultimately about staying alive for forty-eight hours. And to do that, he knew he had to make the most of his class.

“I’ll look for Specialists later...”

Naturally, he had no intention of going it alone until the end. His class wasn’t suited for solo play anyway. And since the rules didn’t allow parties to spawn together, he quickly gave up on the idea of eting up with anyone and scanned his surroundings.

A forest of dense trees.

His luck was pretty good.

He clicked his tongue, looking at the three Enhancent Stones he’d received with the hamr. It was a small price to pay, a penalty he could easily endure.

’This isn’t Fantastic World.’

They had copied the character classes from Fantastic World, but the server had temporarily reconstructed all other specs. That ant BetaGo’s perfectly woven restrictions might have sprung a leak sowhere.

Finding that loophole wouldn’t be easy, but if he could, it would be one step closer to claiming that five million dollars. He needed an exploit—not a ga-breaking bug, but sothing he could leverage with his abilities.

It was a daunting task, but—

“Better than walking around with this piece-of-trash hamr at

3 only to get whacked once and die.”

The corners of Han Simin’s mouth curled upward.

There was nothing he loved more in this world than Enhancent. And a close second was his knack for scheming.

The gears in Han Simin’s mind—the mind of the man who had even swindled the Heavenly King—began to turn.

6.

There was no guide.

No official formula.

The All-Star Survival was a ga of pure instinct, where even personal know-how was useless.

Though there had been no notable interactions between players yet, as ti passed, their movents, captured by thousands of caras, naturally split into two major behavioral patterns.

It wasn’t planned. It just happened naturally.

It was the mont that proved the 500 players gathered here hadn’t been chosen for their reputation alone. You could tell by the fact that even the unknown players managed to avoid dying to random monsters within the first hour.

Those seasoned players made a choice.

Would they play it safe and secure their chances for the next twenty-four hours?

Or would they go for broke and widen the gap early on?

Perhaps it was a choice anyone with even a little knowledge of gas, or any interest in the field, could have conceived. But it was a simple yet complex problem—one that applied not only to gas but to life itself.

The forr was safe but required ti; the latter was risky but offered a much greater reward.

In the All-Star Match, those with ability chose the latter.

The ones with skill. The ones confident they wouldn’t lose a one-on-one fight on an even playing field.

They road the island, avoiding contact with unknown monsters and targeting only players who were wandering alone.

The island was so large that, despite 500 players being dropped onto it, the odds of encountering another player weren’t much higher than encountering a monster. However, because the players had been placed randomly rather than at evenly spaced intervals, there were also areas where players were packed more densely than monsters.

The battles that broke out there produced winners and losers.

Players who sensed defeat naturally fled, and those who knew—or guessed—that the rewards for killing other players were enormous in the early ga gave chase relentlessly.

Viewers who loved combat went wild for it.

Pure skill-based battles between players, with no stat or item modifiers. They were all level 1, so there were no visible skills. They fought using nothing but the basic weapons in their hands.

Wasn’t that the simplest and coolest form of combat?

Viewers who enjoyed the thrill of survival in extre situations watched other players, but most knew the truly interesting monts would co later, so they kept their eyes on the fights.

And in the midst of it all, one region beca the site of the largest battle.

It had started with a dozen or so players and had grown into a cluster of at least thirty.

Jeong Seolah was there.