Disaster-Level Player Is Too Good at Broadcasting

[Notice: This chapter title is purely fictional and does not reflect or promote any real-life actions or themes. It is used within the context of the story only.]

Kang Min sat on the floor of the dark chamber.

He was still breathing heavily.

He looked at his hands. They were white because of the frostbite. The skin was hard. He did not feel his fingers.

This was a common result of entering high-level Fables while his current body was low level.

He stood up and walked toward the center of the chamber.

There was a stone altar there. It was covered in a layer of thin ice.

'There is a loop on how to actually acquire this sword.

I only found this out after many attempts in my previous life. 97 deaths.

That is how long it took to understand the logic of this place.'

Kang Min looked at the wall behind the altar.

There were metal chains hanging from iron hooks. They were thick and were covered in smooth silver and frost.

Kang Min reached out and grabbed them. They were heavy.

"These will come in handy when I face the three-headed Cerberus."

Because of that, he took them.

He looked at the altar again. There was no sword on it.

There was only a slot in the stone. It was shaped like a long, thin blade.

'The way to actually acquire the true blade is to die. Just like the hero who made it.'

The hero was the Nameless Smith. He was not just a blacksmith. He was a master of the stars.

He cherished this sword as his greatest creation.

He poured his own life force into the metal. Because of that, when the sword was finished, he had no life left.

He died while holding the hilt.

His will manifested as the Silver Guardians. They were angels that guarded the place and the blade because the Smith did not want a lowly being to touch his masterpiece.

Kang Min looked at the empty slot.

'To finish the Fable, I have to replicate the end. The Hero died to forge the blade.

To own the blade, I must partake in the same challenge.

I must die with the blade in my hand.'

Kang Min reached into the slot. He did not feel a physical object. But the system reacted.

『The Fable is reaching its climax.』

『Replicate the Hero's end to claim the reward.』

A blade made of pure ice began to manifest in the slot.

It was the [???].

It was beautiful and Kang Min thought so.

He then thought about its stats. It was an item from Floor 512 that was very powerful and had helped him immensely when he was climbing the tower after.

Kang Min gripped the hilt. The ice immediately froze his palm to the metal. He could not let go now.

This led to his decision being final.

He pulled the sword from the slot.

He did not hesitate. He turned the blade toward his own chest. He pointed the tip at his heart.

'In the old world, I spent many times dying and regressing to find this out.

Taking your own life is the only way to prove you value the sword more than your life.

It is the hidden condition of the Nameless Smith....suicide.'

Kang Min pushed the blade.

!!!

The ice blade went through his ribs and pierced his heart.

The coldness was absolute. It was not like a normal stab wound. There was no heat from the blood. The blood froze as it left his heart.

Kang Min's vision began to fade as his knees hit the floor. He felt his soul being pulled out of his body.

『You have died!』

---

『Condition met: The Hero's Death.』

Suddenly, everything became black.

Kang Min was in a void.

He was floating in nothingness.

He was not dead. This was the processing state of a high-level Fable.

Because he was in this void, he began to think.

He spoke to himself in his thoughts.

'Mostly, when a Demon King dies, another is expected to be born.

That is the law of the stars.

It usually cuts down to if you are chosen as the closest one with the most Fables in your name.

Of course, there are other factors that must be taken into account. Stats, achievements, and the weight of your soul.

He thought about the Nameless Smith.

'The hero in this fable was a Demon King. He was the 512th Floor Master.

Because of a demon kings death, a new Demon King is born from an egg.

This is how the succession works.

Kang Min remembered exactly how most of these things worked.

This is how I earned one of my titles.

"Demon King Candidate."

I got it in the old world after finding out it takes suicide to acquire this blade.

The system recognized me as a successor to the Smith.

But there was a problem.

'As this isn't the old world or actual tower floor...I do not know where I will be born from.

How this works is that you are born from a corpse.

Another Demon King has to die at the same time for me to get born from their corpse.

If another dies and a demonic stone appears before whoever killed them, they can also become a candidate.

That is if they meet the conditions.

'But of course this wasn't the actual thing...so I am sure I will have to return to the real world soon.

This is but a simulation. That is because Demon Kings only appear past the 50th floor and up.

And as per I know the current humanity has only conquered up to the 20th floor.

So...how will-

Suddenly, the void changed.

The temperature dropped even further.

Kang Min felt his limbs in the real world. They were freezing. The frostbite was spreading across his shoulders and chest.

『You have acquired the item: [IceMan].』

『Level: Unknown (Scaled to User Level).』

『You have completed the Fable of the 512th Floor: [The Nameless Smith].』

The simulation ended.

Kang Min felt a physical sensation. He was cramped. He was in a small, tight space. It was dark. He could not move his arms.

He realized he was inside something.

He smelled the rotting smell of blood. He felt a thick, viscous liquid around him.

'Is this what I think it is...?

but how?'

He pushed.

He used his right arm. He felt the resistance of ice. He punched the wall in front of him.

CRACK.

Light entered the dark space.

He pushed his shoulder through the gap. He ignored the shards of ice cutting his skin. He shoved his torso out of the shell.

He took a deep breath. The air was cold, but it felt good.

The ice shards of the Demon King's shell were still clattering to the floor when Kang Min stepped into the light.

His black mask was half-demolished. A jagged crack ran from the forehead down to the jaw, revealing a single, piercing eye that glowed with a cold, unnatural light.

The silence in the cavern was absolute, broken only by the ragged breathing of the survivors.

"That mask..."

Someone whispered.

"The super rookie..."

The mutated tiger, however, was past the point of reason.

Driven by the volatile purple mana leaking from the meatball-like corpse, it ignored the newcomer.

It saw the others and lunged.

Its massive form was a blur of violet shadow, claws extended to shred Woonhee and the others.

Kang Min didn't even turn his head. He simply flicked his wrist.

The dark, heavy chains he had snatched from the altar of the Nameless Smith hissed through the air like iron snakes.

They moved with a speed that defied physics, wrapping around the tiger's throat in a series of violent, metallic clinks.

The beast's momentum stopped instantly.

It was jerked backward so hard its hind legs left the ground.

"Down."

Kang Min muttered.

Suddenly, an overflow of black mana darker and denser than any shadow in the Abyss surged from Kang Min's hand and through the links of the chain.

The purple mana infecting the tiger was smothered.

The beast's frantic roars died down into a submissive whimper.

It slammed into the floor, its massive head pinned against the ice.

Kang Min stared at the shivering creature, his brow furrowed.

'What the hell... why is a Low Calamity level monster down here?'

He thought, his mind racing.

The Rankers stared at the scene in disbelief.

A monster that had nearly wiped out a professional raid team was being held like a stray dog on a leash by a single man.

The strain of the Fable and the forced emergence finally took its toll.

The remaining half of Kang Min's mask hairline-fractured and fell away, hitting the ice and shattering.

His face was now fully exposed...pale, streaked with dry blood, and filled with exhaustion.

He stood atop the frozen remains of the 65th Demon King, his chest heaving as he breathed the cold air.

His aura, fueled by the [IceMan] blade and the remnants of the Fable, radiated outward like a physical weight.