"Paris."

The final section of the stream appeared, revealing a lone figure floating high above the city barrier. Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven hovered lazily in the air, his upper body bare, revealing a sculpted physique covered in tattoos. His arms hung loosely at his sides, and strapped behind his back was a sword, its sheath secured by a thin rope over his shoulder. Unlike the other players who were fast and efficient, Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven simply floated, surveying the city below with an excited expression. Then, as if sensing Sora's gaze, he turned his head slightly.

"Boss, show them my POV! Make it take the whole screen, please!"

Sora, who had been monitoring the feeds, froze for a second before sighing.

'Idiot, why are you making a fool of yourself? We have seven hundred million viewers now...'

He ran a hand down his face in exasperation before changing the settings. The stream adjusted. Soon, the audience saw Paris from Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven's eyes. Enemies had started moving, and quickly surrounded him. But instead of the expected massacre, the viewers were surprised to see that nothing was happening. Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven was looking up. Admiring the sky and the view.

The chat exploded instantly.

Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven cracked his neck, then flexed his shoulders.

"Stop nagging at me, boss. Can't even relax nowadays..." He spoke, lazily.

His body started growing. Muscles stretched and thickened, his arms bulging. His ears changed, sharpening and becoming hairy and pointy. A layer of dark hair began to spread across his skin, every passing second until it covered his entire body. Even his teeth changed. His jaw adjusted to accommodate canines, his entire form caught between human and something… else. A player in front of him gasped.

"This… this is impossible!" It was a Dwarf who seemed in shock.

"That's… the goblin evolution… From Goblin to Hobgoblin… But how?!" Another spoke.

"Humans can't do that. Is this shapeshifting?" A spirit asked.

One of the Demons narrowed his eyes.

"Wait… this isn't a full evolution. It's incomplete!"

Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven let out a deep, amused chuckle, rolling his broad shoulders. He stretched his arms, and looked at his tiny claws.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Still not done polishing this thing. Why did boss have to interrupt my research?"

He cracked his knuckles. Then, a message buzzed in his mind. His yellow eyes blinked. His grin faded.

"Ah, looks like my time's almost up," he mused. His voice held no urgency—only annoyance, like someone being told to rush things. Without another word, he vanished. He appeared behind a dwarf who had fused with his mount.

"Level 230. Third strongest enemy here." He commented.

But Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven hadn't picked him for his strength. No, there was another reason. The dwarf stood in a very unique spot.

The chat erupted.

And they were right. Something dumb was about to happen. Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven didn't reach for his sword. Instead, he raised one of his massive hands… And slapped the dwarf.

The impact sent a thunderous shockwave through the air. The dwarf's entire body was launched at an insane speed, soaring like a comet through the battlefield. But he didn't just fly. As he spun uncontrollably, his body started transforming. A golden color spread from the point of impact, creeping across his armor, his skin and his mount. By the time he reached his first ally, he was already a golden statue.

Then, the inevitable happened. The flying Dwarf hit his ally. The second enemy, the highest level player, a level 240 Werewolf, tried to dodge but the dwarf's hand hit him. He barely had time to move before the golden energy spread to him as well.

Then the third.

Then the fourth.

Then the fifth.

One by one, the enemies collided, bumping into each other like dominos, each touch spreading the bizarre transformation. Five golden statues floated in the middle of the battlefield. A stunned silence filled the air. Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven stared at his own hand, flexing his fingers in wonder before beaming a smile to his brothers and the remaining opponents.

"Did you guys see that?" He laughed, turning his palm over as if inspecting it.

"That was so cool! They're all turning to gold!"

He waved his hands excitedly at his opponents, like a kid showing off a new toy. The battlefield had gone dead silent. The enemies who had watched the event unfold stood frozen, their minds struggling to process what had just happened. A towering Werewolf, his claws still extended as he rushed in Seven Hundred Seventy-Seven's direction, forced himself to a stop and stared at the five golden statues with horrified eyes.

A Spirit, normally composed and aloof, trembled as he whispered,

"That… that was the Hobgoblins' racial skill. 'Golden Touch'… But how can a human use a racial skill? Is that a Hobgoblin in disguise? This shouldn't be possible."

A Dwarf, barely suppressing his panic, shouted,

"Forget possible! That damn monster just SLAPPED our commanders into statues! What the hell are you blabbering about?!"

A demon growled,"Look at him! He's still grinning like an idiot! This is a game to him! Retreat! Our stronger brothers will take care of these guys, for now, let's get the hell out of here! Now!"

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Enemies turned on their heels, fleeing in every direction. Some tried warping away. Others activated flight skills, their figures blurring as they shot through the sky. Some simply ran.

Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven was still admiring his hand, chuckling as if he had just discovered a magic trick. Then, his smile vanished.His yellow eyes flickered toward the retreating enemies. His voice, low and amused, carried a threat that sent shivers through those who heard it.

"Do you think I'd let precious test subjects run away?"

A sharp, gasp echoed through the battlefield. The fastest enemy, a Level 230 Demon, had been stopped mid-flight. His body hung limply in the air, his throat clenched in a firm grip. But it wasn't Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven holding him.

It was… one of his allies. Three more figures materialized across the battlefield. One in every direction.

Every escaping opponent was intercepted. Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven's allies didn't hesitate. One by one, they grabbed their struggling targets—and threw them. Each enemy was launched through the air, flailing straight toward Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven. He caught the first one with a single outstretched hand. The moment they touched his skin he started transforming. A second enemy was flung toward him. He reached out lazily. Another statue.

Then another. And another. And one by one, they all turned into gold. Within seconds, the battlefield was filled with golden statues. Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven grinned, admiring his work.

Soon a voice broke the silence. Two Hundred-Ten stepped forward.

"Your fighting style is disgraceful," he commented, while shaking his head.

Seven Hundred-Seventy-Seven didn't even blink. He only sneered.

"One day, you'll thank me." he said, casually stacking the golden bodies like they were nothing more than materials. Then, without another word, he turned toward the sky—and stepped into the [Void Tunnels] once more.

"Let's move." Two Hundred-Ten's voice was the last thing that was heard in the region.

--------------------------------------------

When the screen turned dark once more, the chat exploded.

As Sora read the messages, a new type of notification popped up.

The chat roared in reaction to the unusual notifications.

And then...

Sora was surprised at the notifications. He had met these four persons in the past.

'The leaders of France, USA, China and Nigeria... And they even selected their own names as their stream nicknames. It's insane.' He thought to himself.

He glanced at the chat, watching as the world reacted.

Sora's smile widened as the subs and Soul Pearls poured in. Then, even more familiar names appeared.

And then—