My Glitched Streaming System: I Can Steal Sponsored Gifts

A small Worm Hound was running from five much larger ones as fast as it could.

Maneuvering around debris and broken-down buildings, the small Worm Hound came to a screeching halt after sprinting over a pile of rubble—only to find a hundred or so higher-tier Spectors marching in unison.

As it stopped, the debris under its feet gave way, tumbling down and dragging more debris with it.

CRUMBLE!

The rubble hit the ground, freezing every Spector in place.

Then they turned toward it.

Under the pile of debris were Ji-su and Dok-su.

Peering through a small opening, Dok-su turned to ice as the Spectors looked in their direction.

Their singular eyes locked on him.

In the blink of an eye, the nearest Spector lunged.

Dok-su froze, his soul seemingly leaving his body.

He wasn’t even given time to process the moment of his death before the Spector extended its arm, impaling something above them.

Dok-su watched in chilling silence as the Spector reeled its arm back.

As it drew closer, Dok-su’s eyes widened—several Worm Hounds were impaled like skewered meat on a spit.

Seeing this, he felt like an insignificant ant. The Worm Hounds they had struggled so much to defeat were dispatched in mere seconds.

He dropped his gaze, unwilling to witness more.

Peering through a hole in the wall, Min-ho felt a droplet of relief in a vast ocean of fear and uncertainty.

Dok-su and Ji-su were safe. They all were... for now.

Min-ho watched as the Spector opened its mouth.

Its jaws stretched unnaturally wide, revealing row after row of razor-sharp teeth.

The other Spectors stood still, watching as one of their own lowered its hand into its gaping maw.

Once all six Worm Hounds had vanished into the abyss of its throat, the Spector chomped its own arm off. Blood sprayed across its shadowy face.

A crimson splash against a canvas of black.

Its shrieking twisted into bloodcurdling cackles, amplifying the terror digging into everyone’s bones.

Min-ho dug his fingers into his thighs with such intensity that he began to bleed.

The cackling continued for the entire duration of the Spectors’ presence. But after an agonizing eternity... they were gone.

Despite being certain the Second-Tier Spectors had left, no one dared to move for nearly ten minutes.

A mistake on their part.

Forcing his shaking limbs to move, Min-ho struggled to his feet, pulling Sae-wee up with him.

Even after ten minutes, his bones still felt like rubber. And he wasn’t alone.

As though sensing Min-ho’s rise, the others followed. Jang-book slowly lowered the stone cone surrounding himself and Im-hee, then helped her toward the center of the road where Min-ho and Sae-wee stood.

Dok-su did the same—last of the bunch—dragging Ji-su along.

When the group converged into a loose triangle formation, no one spoke. They couldn’t. Their breathing was ragged, like they’d all been holding it for a lifetime.

Ji-su collapsed to his knees, Im-hee leaned against a staggering Jang-book, and Min-ho held—

"It’s okay," Sae-wee said in a trembling voice, attempting to ease Min-ho of the burden—her.

He hesitated, then let her go.

She wobbled, but managed to stand on her own.

Just then, Ji-su doubled over and vomited.

"Damn it, Ji-su," Dok-su muttered, dropping to one knee and rubbing his brother’s back.

Looking at his team, Min-ho felt something inside him splinter.

They were exhausted, in pain, and now facing the psychological devastation brought on by seeing so many high-tier Spectors.

And it wasn’t over.

Steeling his nerves, Min-ho turned toward the direction they had come from—toward the Safe Zone they had left behind.

Once again, dread constricted his heart as he saw the Fog creeping ever closer.

Earlier, it had been over ten kilometers away.

Now, it was six.

It was gaining, fast.

Min-ho scratched at his hand, panic surging as he considered how much farther they still had to go.

He looked down the road. Though the Safe Zone itself was blocked from view by ruins and rubble, he could just make out the faint glow of the countdown marker in the sky.

They needed to move.

He looked back at his team—and his resolve wavered.

They didn’t look like they could make it. And if he was being honest with himself, neither did he.

He bit his lip, then pushed forward.

"Let’s keep going," he said. "We don’t have any time to lose."

---

Later...

"Ahh!" Dok-su shouted as a rock-like arm slammed into his shoulder. He was knocked backward with such force he slid across the rooftop and off the ledge.

"Dok-su!" Ji-su screamed, racing toward his brother.

Im-hee followed.

Everyone felt fear for Dok-su’s safety—but those still fighting couldn’t afford to look. The battle was too dangerous.

Min-ho and Sae-wee were left fending off the stone-covered Spector with three arms, three legs, and no head.

Jang-book was trying to build a bridge to the adjacent building, separated from theirs by a massive rift in the ground.

Each time he stretched the building’s stone forward, it snapped and crumbled into the abyss.

Damn it! he screamed internally.

As Min-ho fought, he spotted the Fog closing in fast behind the Spector.

Realizing they were in a losing battle, Dok-su’s fall gave him an idea.

"Sae-wee, follow me!" Min-ho shouted and leapt backward.

Then he turned and sprinted toward Jang-book, who stood at the edge of the roof.

Though confused, Sae-wee followed without hesitation.

Just as he expected, the Spector gave chase.

"Jang-book, get out of the way!" Min-ho yelled, startling him and breaking his focus.

The elongating bridge snapped and tumbled into the abyss.

Jang-book didn’t have time to dwell on it—he moved.

Min-ho ran to the roof’s edge, Sae-wee close behind.

With only inches to spare, Min-ho grabbed her and launched them both sideways off the ledge.

They hit the ground hard, but Min-ho had taken the brunt of the fall on his back.

He winced in pain—but didn’t stop moving.

The Spector paused at the ledge.

Min-ho shot to his feet and slammed into its back.

He managed to shove it off the roof—along with himself.