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# Chapter 22: Party Play (3)

In truth, when Nadia first heard Erin’s plan, she didn’t think it was all that realistic.

‘How chaotic people can be in online games… They wouldn’t easily follow any control like that.’

A genre like AOS was a prime example.

Just five people, with a playtime of less than an hour.

Even with such a small number, there are always people who do what they want during that brief time, let alone in a death game like this.

But.

“Then can I just keep making bullets? I’ll do that. It was fine when I was using the mouse and keyboard, but trying to aim while moving is just overwhelming.”

“Oh? So you mean I’ll have a continuous supply of bullets? I was worried about the skill points and time spent making bullets, so this is perfect. I’ll cooperate.”

“Um, I came because I heard that hunters could form a party here.”

Contrary to Nadia’s expectations, this ‘Hunter Role Division Project’ was proceeding remarkably smoothly.

“You’re looking like, ‘Why is this working?'”

“Oh no, I wasn’t doubting you, Erin, I just thought the environment in this field was a bit strange…”

“Yes, you’re right. Just as you thought, Nadia.”

Gamers typically prefer flashy and cool positions.

To be precise, they want to lead the game and manipulate the surroundings rather than be at the mercy of others.

While others fight gloriously in front, am I just doing the supportive work in the back?

Not many players would enjoy that.

“But this is a death game. There won’t be many people willing to step forward and take risks.”

“Ah….”

Erin continued explaining calmly, as if reciting established facts.

“After that, it’s a matter of preferences. There will be players willing to take risks to earn that ‘reward,’ and even if it’s not for the reward, some may think it’s easier to survive with higher levels. Since it’s an RPG, there will be players who instinctively want to level up first. But apart from that, most will probably prefer to make bullets in the back.”

“However, um.”

Nadia hesitated to voice the problem that came to her mind, but trusting Erin’s calm demeanor, she spoke up.

“But won’t there be issues with bullet distribution? I mean, contributions are ultimately earned by defeating monsters, right? If two players take their bullets, and one wastefully fires into the air while the other effectively hunts monsters, I feel like everyone will want to give their bullets to the one who uses them well… Some might even ask you, Erin, to distribute their bullets to that person…”

“Um? Why would they ask me?”

“Huh? You’re the Administrator, aren’t you?”

“I have no intention of managing that.”

“???”

In that moment, Nadia’s mind went blank.

Wait, didn’t you say you would gather people?

“Gathering people and controlling them is a different matter. What I do is just let people know, ‘There’s a way like this.’ After that, everyone will make their bullets however they please and trade them. That’s market logic.”

If you try to handle combat and bullet-making alone, hunters end up being a pretty awkward profession.

However, once roles are divided, hunters certainly become an attractive and strong class.

Erin asserted that few would willingly choose the difficult path when an easy one lies before them.

Nadia thought it over. After thinking it through, she acknowledged that Erin’s words weren’t wrong.

However, one question remained.

“So, what do you gain from this, Erin? It doesn’t seem like you’re benefiting at all.”

Nadia believed she would surely benefit from what Erin had initiated. After all, the hunter class as a whole would become stronger.

But Erin was the Black Knight. Even if other classes grew stronger, they would just become rivals.

In response to Nadia’s question, Erin smiled broadly.

“Don’t worry; I have my own subtle gains. It’s just that it’s a type of benefit that’s hard to explain directly.”

“Yes…”

Nadia thought, ‘…To truly help someone, you should teach them how to fish rather than just give them fish. Yes, that must be it.’

The virtual channel Vtuber, high school girl Nadia Craft, took great care to think deeply and for a long time.

‘-Indeed, Erin is undoubtedly a fine person! In such a perilous game, she prioritizes helping others over her own gain!!’

Well, much like many things in the world, overthinking doesn’t always lead to the right answer.

*

Of course, it was only natural that I and the Older Brother Guy couldn’t openly converse in front of others.

Although there were NPCs in Beyond Elysion with a high degree of intelligence who felt like aides, comparing the behavior of those NPCs to the Older Brother’s would undoubtedly create a sense of dissonance.

So, we conversed in a manner akin to a whisper, ensuring only we could hear each other.

No, going even further, the Older Brother had enabled a filter function that made him invisible to others, only visible to me.

Since the pet that the Older Brother transformed into lacked combat abilities, it was possible for him to do that.

“So what’s the real objective?”

Objective?

“Our aim is to survive as long as possible in the game until Nebula interprets their ‘magic.’ To do that, we need to remain under the radar of the administrators, but isn’t this already too risky? No matter how much we want to help others—”

What nonsense is this?

Do I look like I’m causing this commotion to help people?

“…No?”

Ah, the Older Brother. Naive, oblivious, bad at interpersonal relationships, lacking athletic ability, and generally low stats outside of game development. Let’s think rationally.

Whether we like it or not, we would be noticed by the administrators. Right from the start, using Aurelia was unconventional, and even if the first incident was dismissed as coincidence, there would be many future instances of exploiting the system that they surely wouldn’t fail to notice.

In that sense, this incident is akin to a litmus test.

After I injected the concept of role division, the hunters, previously deemed the weakest class, saw their value skyrocket.

This was only natural, as Nadia catching a blue rabbit with three bullets meant that three hunters shooting at the same blue rabbit would finish the hunt. And all this without allowing any retaliation from the enemy.

Moreover, the hunters had funneled all points they should’ve invested in bullet-making into combat instead, and while they continued to use high-quality ammunition, they were effectively in a state akin to warriors buffed by priests.

It’s no wonder people say that a party of all hunters can level up faster than a balanced party of warriors, mages, and priests.

So now, the question for the Older Brother.

If a particular class’s power in an online game utterly demolishes other classes, what should the administrators do?

“Well, that leads to a balance patch; wait, hey! You’re not seriously—!”

Right. Through this incident, we can gauge the admins’ tendencies and how much control they exert over Nebula.

If Nebula functions normally, balance patches will occur “slowly.”

This means increasing the spawn rate of monsters resistant to projectile attacks or introducing fields that deal persistent damage, making it impossible to manage effectively without priests—something like that.

But what if Nebula isn’t functioning normally? If the administrators could arbitrarily force patches? They would outright nerf the hunters, saying, “What are you going to do about it?”

“Is that why you used people? People were thanking you profusely; don’t you feel guilty at all?”

What’s there for me to feel guilty about?

In the end, hunters who’d been treated as irredeemable became strong, and those who feared death found stable employment.

What I initially explained wasn’t particularly special. Someone would have eventually done the same thing even if I hadn’t spread it around.

I simply accelerated it a bit and helped more people utilize it early on.

“But they’re players. Isn’t it wrong to use victims for your own gain?”

Victims? Well.

“…You’re not saying they aren’t victims, are you?”

If this were a game we controlled, then surely the players who logged in would be customers, guests, and could be considered victims.

That’s why I desperately exercised my GM rights to ensure everyone got logged out.

But this situation is different.

Why should I take responsibility for those who joined with their eyes blinded by hopes of rejuvenation potions or panaceas?

We didn’t even keep the game open; we blocked all the gaming devices, yet those clearly enchanted ones still chose to participate?

“Not all players joined for the rewards.”

Well, that’s true.

There are certainly those, like Nadia, who didn’t mean to come in but got swept away.

I do intend to help those who fit that description as much as I can.

But that’s merely because it’s morally right. As a GM, I don’t feel obligated to save them.

“Ugh. Fine. Let’s say things went your way. Then what about afterward?”

If the administrators do not directly nerf or make unreasonable targeted strikes, I will continue to actively utilize the game systems.

In this instance, if Nebula isn’t controlled, it should be seen as Nebula’s own capability. Or perhaps the administrators are simply avoiding overly blatant patches that would make the game less enjoyable.

This means I would have to meddle quite a bit. While obtaining magical powers, the symbolism of helping others and the reputation also matter.

Even if it’s not for practical reasons, it’s better if fewer people die anyway. I don’t think saving people is an obligation; that doesn’t mean I’m cursing them all to die.

Conversely, if direct nerfs are possible—as in the administrators disregarding reason and flipping the game upside down as they see fit—then it would mean Nebula isn’t completely compromised because they lack the ability; it’s simply being neglected.

If that happens, it’ll be grim. In such a case, I’d have to focus on individual survival while minimizing the use of system benefits.

“Trust in Nebula. That girl won’t easily let this game fall apart.”

At my Older Brother’s bold declaration, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

What a clueless braggart.

So, let’s see how things unfold.