The chat, which had been a quiet trickle of early viewers, immediately exploded into a roaring river of text. He scrolled through the comments, a small, wry smile on his face.

All i did was cheering from home

Ngl, i was hidding under my bed the whole time

I was watching but i don't got why some people were fighting a invisible enemy

Bombom let out a small laugh. "Oh, that," he said, running a hand through his perfectly styled wolfcut. "That's because the last enemy, the alternate me or whatever, couldn't be recorded. I think the giant eye couldn't be seen either. It was a whole thing. Super weird."

The chat immediately seized on the new information, the digital equivalent of a room full of people all talking at once.

w-what eye?

a giant eye? we didn't see nothing, on the news or in your stream

i was there, a giant eye appeared from bombom's back, it's true, i saw it with my own eyes

stop spreading fake news weirdo

The debate raged, a chaotic back-and-forth between the few who had witnessed the cosmic horror firsthand and the many who were now utterly, hopelessly confused. Bombom just watched, amused, as his fans argued amongst themselves. And then, a single comment, highlighted by a small donation, cut through the noise.

that stream feels like beta spirit

Kenjiro's smile vanished. A vein, thick and purple, began to throb on his forehead. He sat up, his red eyes blazing with a familiar, furious light. "You came here," he began, his voice a low, dangerous growl, "in my stream, and say—" He stopped, taking a deep, shuddering breath, his carefully constructed composure shattering like glass. "You came here and say I'm beta spirit?! Do you know who I am?! You know what? Forget it. I'm not even gonna give you the satisfaction."

He crossed his arms, turning his back on the drone with a sharp, indignant "humpf." The chat, of course, absolutely loved it. The screen was a blur of laughing emojis and comments celebrating his classic tsundere meltdown. In the midst of the chaos, another donation popped up.

you should play that blocky game that you can craft things

Bombom sighed, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had appeared. He turned back to the drone, a look of profound, weary resignation on his face. "Zonang is my eggs," he grumbled, the nonsensical phrase from his old world a strange, comforting mantra. "I'm not playing a blocky game… again." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was perfectly audible to the thousands of people watching. "B-but if you guys pay me, I might…"

The response was instantaneous. A donation alert, so large it took up the entire screen, blared through his room's speakers. Fifty. Thousand. Femboy Coins. Kenjiro's jaw dropped. He stared at the number, his mind a screaming vortex of pure, unadulterated shock. He looked back at the camera, a slow, greedy, and utterly shameless grin spreading across his face.

"Alright," he declared, his earlier reluctance completely forgotten. "Forget what I said. We are playing that blocky game."

The next hour was a masterclass in chaotic, crowd-sourced survival. Bombom, who was used to solving his problems by punching them into oblivion, was completely out of his depth in a world that required patience, planning, and the ability to punch trees for wood. The chat became his collective, and often contradictory, brain.

no bombom, you need to make a crafting table first

just dig straight down, you'll find diamonds for sure

DO NOT DIG STRAIGHT DOWN

He eventually managed to cobble together a small, pathetic-looking dirt hut, a monument to his own ineptitude. He stood back to admire his handiwork, a flicker of genuine, if misplaced, pride in his chest. "See, chat?" he said, a triumphant smirk on his face. "Told you I could do it."

And then, a strange, green, pixelated creature with a sad face waddled up to his new home, let out a soft hissing sound, and exploded, taking the entire dirt hut with it.

Bombom just stared. The silence in his room was absolute. He looked at the smoking crater where his house had been, then at the camera, his face a perfect, blank mask of pure, unadulterated disbelief. "W-what?" he finally whispered, his voice trembling. "He can just… destroy my progress, like that?"

The chat's response was a swift and merciless chorus of confirmation.

yes, he can

yes

he can and he did

welcome to craftmine, bombom

He played for another hour, his initial shock slowly curdling into a familiar, simmering rage. He died. A lot. He fell in lava, he was shot by a skeleton, he was blown up by three more of the sad green things. Finally, after losing all his hard-won items for the fifth time, he had had enough. "Alright, that's it for today," he announced, his voice a tight, strained monotone. "See you guys later."

He ended the stream and dropped his head onto the bed, the phantom sounds of exploding green monsters still echoing in his ears. He lay there for a long time, the exhaustion of the day, of the war, of his entire, ridiculous new life, finally catching up to him. Just as he was about to drift into a deep, dreamless sleep, he felt it. A soft, warm, and distinctly fluffy sensation nuzzling against the back of his head. He froze.

"Forgot about me?" a familiar, teasing voice purred from beside him.

Bombom yelped, scrambling to the other side of the bed. Kaito was sitting there, lounging on the silken sheets as if he owned the place, a foxy, knowing smirk on his face.

"W-what?" Bombom stammered, his face flushing a deep, furious red. "You're here again? W-what did I tell you about coming uninvited?"

Kaito just laughed, a soft, melodic sound. "Well, you never invited me," he pointed out, his amber eyes sparkling with a playful, mischievous light. "I thought you forgot about me and all."

"Of course not," Bombom scoffed, turning his back with a sharp "humpf." "I'm just… occupied with everything. Fights, random stuff, and all."

"Yeah, yeah," Kaito said, his voice a soft, gentle purr. He got up and stretched, his nine fluffy tails fanning out behind him in a magnificent, fiery display. "Just came to say I'm still around, you cute thing." He walked to the door, pausing to look back over his shoulder and blow a single, shimmering, and completely infuriating kiss. And then, he was gone.

Bombom just lay there, his face buried in a pillow, a strange, unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest. He finally, truly, fell asleep.

He awoke the next morning with a new, clear purpose in his mind. He showered, dressed, and, with a determination that was becoming his new normal, he walked straight to Ryo's office and knocked, a firm, decisive sound that was a far cry from the hesitant, uncertain boy who had first arrived at the guild.

"Come in," Ryo's voice called from within.

Bombom entered. The CEO was sitting behind his massive, ornate desk, a pile of paperwork before him, but his attention was focused on the large, wall-mounted screen, which was playing a highlight reel of Bombom's disastrous CraftMine stream from the night before.

"Ah, Bombom," Ryo said, a wide, amused grin on his face. "Just the Lily I wanted to see. I trust you've had your… fun. Now, are you ready to get back to work?"

He gestured to a chair, and Bombom sat, a serious, focused expression on his face. He was done with games. He was ready for the next mission.

Ryo leaned back in his ornate chair, a stack of mission files on his desk. He pushed a single, glowing data slate across the polished wood. "Alright," he began, his usual teasing smirk firmly in place, though his eyes held a sharp, analytical light. "Here's your new team."

Bombom picked up the slate, his red eyes scanning the profiles. His expression went from focused to confused to utterly horrified in the span of three seconds.

The first profile was a picture of a man with a gravity-defying black pompadour and impossibly tight jeans. Nomu. A warrior from another plane.

"NO!" Bombom yelled, slamming the slate back down on the desk. "WHY IS HE HERE?! I AM NOT WORKING WITH HIM!"

Ryo just laughed, a genuine, hearty sound that echoed through the office. "'Cause he's available," he said with a shrug. "And surprisingly powerful, when he's not getting his ego shattered by a pouting Lily. And don't forget your friend, DragonSlayer."

"He's not my friend," Bombom grumbled, crossing his arms.

The second profile was a sleek, chrome-plated android, its single optical sensor glowing a cool, clinical blue. TGP, a strong robot with a personal military A.I. The third was a photo of a woman with long, flowing brown hair and a strange, serene smile, holding a large, leafy cassava root as if it were a royal scepter. Zilka, a forgotten leader that salutes the cassava. And the last was a portly man with a massive belly and a cheerful, goofy grin, a phone held up in a perpetual streaming pose. Case, a famous streamer that tanks everything but will eat almost everything.

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