Gunfire cracked through the room, sharp, rapid and relentless. BANG! BANG! BANG!
Voices filled his computer screen:
"LEFT—LEFT—HE'S ON YOUR LEFT!"
"BRO YOU'RE BLIND!"
"NAH THIS GUY IS ACTUALLY USELESS"
Nare's jaw tightened, his fingers moved faster across the keyboard, tapping, dragging, clicking with exactness that looked almost desperate. On the big screen ahead, his character rotated, but it was already too late.
BANG!
[You have been eliminated.]
The crowd burst out, laughter, loud and unfiltered.
"AGAIN?!"
"THIS IS LIKE HIS FIFTH LOSS!"
"WHY IS HE EVEN HERE?!"
Nare didn't look up, couldn't bring himself to react. But his grip on the mouse tightened.
"Bro look at his face—zoom in!"
"Oh my God he's sweating like crazy!"
"IS THAT WATER OR OIL?!"
They weren't wrong, sweat slid down his temple. Then his jaw, down to his neck.
Drip.
It soaked into his shirt, holding on to his skin like it refused to let go. The small fan beside his monitor rattled loudly, blowing weakly, the useless air directly at him. It did nothing, nothing at all.
"Next round, get ready!"
The timer ticked down. Nare leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on the screen. Ignoring the noise, heat and their useless bants at him.
"I won't lose this time."
The match loaded, and gunfire started again. Nare moved, ducked, turned, shot, yet missed.
"BRO—WHAT WAS THAT?!"
"NAHHH HE'S THROWING!"
"IS THIS YOUR FIRST TIME PLAYING OR WHAT?!"
His teeth clenched. He pushed forward, corner, enemy, shot. BANG!
[You have been eliminated.]
Silence, for half a second. Then, explosive laughter.
"HE'S ACTUALLY TRASH!"
"WHO LET HIM JOIN THE COMPETITION?!"
"RANKED LAST—AGAIN!"
Nare's breathing got heavier. He's panting now, he stared at the screen, at the result. At his name at the bottom, again.
"…no."
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, twitching.
"No."
Because that didn't make sense, he was better than this. Online, he was untouchable. Top rank, played seventeen-hour sessions everyday, no breaks.
So why…
"Bro, just take a bath, maybe you'll see better!"
"Yeah, the smell is affecting his gameplay."
"BRO YOUR ROOM IS PROBABLY TOXIC!"
A few students behind him laughed louder. One even leaned closer to the screen showing his face.
"Wait—look at him…"
"…he's actually shaking."
Nare swallowed, hard. His hand moved, reaching for the cup beside his desk, the water. His fingers brushed it, and knocked it over.
"—!"
The cup tipped, water spilled fast, straight onto the desk. Down to the book, the manga.
Nare's eyes widened.
"…shit—"
Too late, the pages soaked instantly, ink smearing, the edges curling.
"The Overpowered Dungeon King Who Accidentally Married His Own Clone While Trying to Microwave Instant Noodles"
The manga was now ruined, Nare sucked in a sharp breath. A hiss slipped through his teeth.
"…seriously?"
His chair scraped back as he stood abruptly. Then crouched quickly behind the desk, grabbing the book like he could still save it.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Not just the water, but his sweat. His hands were shaking now, his breathing uneven.
"…this stupid—"
Above him, the screen still on, chat messages flooded in.
"LMAOOO HE LEFT"
"HE CHICKENED OUT"
"BRO IS CRYINGGGG"
"ALL THAT SWEAT FOR NOTHING"
Nare lowered his head, the book now sat useless in his hands. His chest tightened.
"…I won't lose." The words came out small, almost broken. "I won't lose."
Drip.
The sweat was worse now, far from normal. His shirt is holding on to him completely now. His skin burned.
"…what is this?"
The heat spiked, violent and sudden.
"—!"
Nare grabbed the edge of the desk behind him, his vision blurred, the air deformed. He felt like he was in hell.
"…what's happening…"
His breathing slowed down, then steadied, then stopped. For a second, everything went silent. No chat, voices, or laughter from his computer screen.
Then something glitched and a message appeared:
[System Activated]
Nare froze. "…what?"
[Sweat Divinity System Initializing…]
The surface in front of him glitched, like heat bending reality.
"…I'm hallucinating."
[Condition Met: Extreme Physical Strain]
[Condition Met: Emotional Stress]
[Condition Met: Persistent Defiance]
His heartbeat slammed hard. "What is this…?"
[You have been selected.]
"For what?" he muttered. "Don't tell me I'm about to die." He paused. "…is this what death looks like?"
[Candidate Identified: God of Sweat]
Silence, then Nare laughed, dry, unbelieving.
"…you're joking."
He wiped his face, his hand came away soaked instantly.
"So I lose a few matches and suddenly I'm—what?"
He exhaled sharply, and his head.
"…God of sweat?"
⸻
[Generating Status Interface…]
⸻
A translucent screen appeared before him.
Name: Nare Vance
Title: The Unwashed One
Level: 1
Sweat Points (SP): 14
Stats:
Endurance: 3
Heat Resistance: 5
Control: 1
Social Standing: -18
"…that's low."
⸻
[Passive Skill Unlocked: Odor Aura (Lv.1)]
Effect: Causes discomfort to nearby individuals.
⸻
Nare stared at it, long and silent. "Out of everything…this is what I get?"
Nare stared at the title again.
"…you've got to be kidding me."
A weak rhythm spread across his skin, and the heat returned, it tripled.
Drip.
The sweat didn't stop, which made his fingers twitch slightly. The interface glitched, and new text appeared.
⸻
[Warning]
[System compatibility unstable.]
⸻
Nare frowned. "…what now?"
⸻
[Accept integration?]
[Yes / No]
⸻
He stared at the options. "…that's it?" He paused. "…and if I don't?"
The screen vibrated once.
[Refusal detected.]
The temperature in his body spiked, violent and sudden.
"—!"
Nare dropped to one knee, his breath caught. His skin burned like something was drying him from the inside out.
Crack.
"…what—"
His skin felt tight, and dry. As if one more pressure could break him.
[Warning: Moisture levels critically decreasing.]
"What kind of system is this?!"
[Failure to integrate will result in complete dehydration.]
His vision blurred.
⸻
[Estimated outcome:]
[Body collapse → Salt residue.]
⸻
"…a bag of salt?"
Even now, in that condition, he almost laughed.
"…you're threatening me with that?"
But his body didn't agree. The heat, dryness, the way his skin felt like it might split. This wasn't a joke.
"…so it's either this…" He looked at the title again. "…or I dry up and die."
He took in a sharp breath, giving in now.
"…fine."
His hand rose slowly, to the screen and then he tapped.
⸻
[Accepted.]
⸻