Chapter 452: New Stream
Across the globe, whispers spread like wildfire.
In neon-lit cities, in cozy cafés, on school rooftops and military bases alike, many were wondering the same thing:
What are Valhalla’s Sinners planning?
It had been a long time since their last upload, not counting the adult ones about Luna’s education and the fun with others. However, those could only be viewed by adult women; most were locked out of the content.
For young girls, boys, and men, there have been no clips, no missions, no scandals. Just silence. Unsettling silence from the most unpredictable group on the planet.
This has been the longest upload absence since Valhalla’s Sinners started, making the people wonder if they were planning to retire from combat after the whole debacle with the masked assailants and the simultaneous dungeon breaks.
Many people predicted they would use their large fanbase to become variety content creators fully, cutting out combat from their repertoire. The truth was that after the dungeon breaks, many awakened did that. Life has become more unpredictable for awakened combatants; what they thought they knew, what they were taught in their academies, and experienced on their dungeon excursions before seemed to have become pretty obsolete.
The rules had changed. Some cities still had random monsters roaming the streets. Thus, awakened could find themselves going to clear up a D-rank dungeon, but get jumped by a B-rank dungeon’s boss monster that has been hiding away.
Life has thus become significantly more dangerous, which resulted in those who could pivot their careers toward safer routes, at least until the smoke cleared and they got a better understanding of how the world worked now that the supposed decade-long ’tutorial’ has ended.
This led to most people assuming that Valhalla’s Sinners were doing the same. After all, why wouldn’t they? They were some of the best-positioned groups to retire from combat and still make insane cash from just fooling around on camera.
"Aren’t they gonna post something soon?" a young boy asked with legs dangling from the kitchen counter.
His mother dusted flour off her fingertips as she shaped cinnamon cookies on a tray. "You’re still thinking about them?"