Crystals & Influence

Ever since ZeroVeil's stream, all Thimoria seemed to have changed overnight. From bustling market squares to shadowy taverns, there was only one topic on everyone's lips.

"Did you see how the chat worked?" a vendor exclaimed, waving a loaf of bread. "You just think the words, and it shows up! Magic like that... it's beyond anything we know!"

An adeventure passing by scoffed, but her curiosity betrayed her disdain. "It's preposterous. Magic without incantations? But..." She hesitated, lowering her voice. "I did hear someone call my name in the stream. Fascinating, isn't it? I wasn't going to support this stremer, maybe I'll just watch two or three more of his streams and stop this."

In a smoky tavern corner, a dwarf with a scruffy beard slammed his tankard on the table. "You're all missin' the big picture! If ZeroVeil can control magic like that, who's to say he ain't plannin' somethin' bigger? Subscriptions? Pfft. Mark me words, he's building a damn army of followers!"

Even children in the streets played games where they pretended to send messages to ZeroVeil, mimicking the glowing panels they'd heard about.

But everything that came with his streams were not positive.

Amid the fervor, a man darted through the narrow alleys of the city, clutching something tightly beneath his jacket. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his eyes darting nervously over his shoulder.

"Stop him!" a gruff voice barked in the distance.

The man quickened his pace, weaving between crates and leaping over puddles, but the sound of heavy boots behind him was relentless.

"Just gotta make it to the gate," he muttered to himself, clutching the item even tighter.

But luck wasn't on his side. He turned a corner too sharply and found himself at a dead end, facing a wall too high to climb. His pursuers—seven men and two dwarves—slowly approached, blocking the only escape route.

Each of them bore the rough demeanor of thugs. Scars adorned their faces, and tattoos of various designs snaked across their arms, necks, and even their knuckles.

One of the dwarves spat on the ground. "Thought ye could run, eh?"

The leader of the group stepped forward, a hulking man with a face that looked like it had been carved out of stone. He spoke with a thick, guttural accent. "You made a big mistake, mate. Stealin' from us is one thing. But takin' the crystal?" He sneered. "That's a death sentence."

The man held his ground, though his hands trembled. "If you kill me, the noble who ordered this will come for you. You think he'll let this slide?"

The thug leader laughed—a cold, mirthless sound. He drew a wickedly sharp knife from his belt, the blade catching the dim light.

"Don't care about no noble," he said, stepping closer. "All we care about is hearin' from our beloved lord streamer. That crystal's worth more than yer life. Our mistress need ya to give us that crystal."

The man tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. With one swift motion, the thug slashed his throat. Blood splattered on the cobblestones as the man collapsed, lifeless.

One of the dwarves bent down and pried the item from his jacket—a small, shimmering crystal.

The thug leader held it up, admiring its glow. "Long live Lord ZeroVeil," he muttered, and the others echoed him in unison.

In another part of the city, a young girl with demonic horns and crimson skin stood in the shadows of a crumbling building. Her tail swayed nervously as she gazed at a crystal in her palm, the same ethereal glow reflecting in her sharp eyes.

Her lips trembled as she whispered, "Long live Lord Streamer."

From the other side of the alley, a voice called out. "You got one too?"

The demon girl turned to see a succubus looking woman approaching, her silvery yet dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She held an identical crystal, gripping it tightly as if afraid someone might take it.

"I... I had to get it," the succubus said, her voice shaking. "I couldn't risk missing another stream."

The demon girl nodded solemnly. But that wasn't the end of it either.

In an opulent room of the royal mansion on the noble quarters of Thimoria academy area, a pair of siblings—one a prince, the other a princess—stood near a gilded hearth. The room was bathed in the soft glow of chandeliers, yet the shimmering crystal resting on the marble table between them outshone it all.

But if one observed it carefully one could easily say it was just their imagination. The crystal that lied on the table was an ordinary crystal imbued with the ability to create more subscribers. 

"This thing," the prince muttered, his fingers brushing the intricate embroidery on his royal tunic, "we shouldn't have stole it." His voice was low, laden with unease. "Do you even know how many people we had to kill in order to get this?"

The princess, younger yet with an air of defiance befitting her station, paced in front of the hearth, her golden tiara glinting under the light. "We had no choice, brother," she snapped, her tone sharp. "It's the lord streamer we are talking about. If we fail to take at least one crystal to our nation, we will be failures,"

He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "But this... it feels wrong. It's unnatural, dangerous even. If word gets out that the royal family is involved—"

"Nobody needs to know," she interrupted, stepping closer to the table. Her gaze locked onto the crystal, her golden eyes reflecting its ethereal glow. "ZeroVeil isn't like anything we've ever known. He transcends the rules of our world." Her voice softened, taking on a reverent tone. "He's something greater."

The prince stared at her, torn between anger and worry. "You're speaking as if he's a god."

"Perhaps he is," the princess whispered, her delicate hands reaching for the crystal. She cradled it gently, as if it were the most precious artifact she had ever seen. "Long live Lord Streamer. i will make sure to spread your words around this world."

The prince's shoulders slumped, his resistance faltering. He looked at his sister—the resolute gleam in her eyes, the crystal cradled in her palms—and let out a weary sigh. After a long pause, he whispered reluctantly, "Long live Lord Streamer."

Meanwhile, far from the turmoil in the city, Dilhan Londor lounged lazily on a cot in his small room. His boots were kicked off, his arms crossed behind his head as he stared at the wooden ceiling.

He yawned, stretching like a cat.

"Man, all this fuss about crystals and streams," he mumbled to himself. "Feels like everyone's losing their minds."

Turning onto his side, he grinned. "Guess it's not all bad. Less work for me now that everyone's distracted. Haven't had to deal with a single complaint today. I can concentrate more on building a system to make people donate money."

He chuckled, closing his eyes. "Thank you me. Keep 'em busy for me."

As chaos engulfed Thimoria, Dilhan drifted into a peaceful nap, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing outside.

***

Dilhan Ven Londor lay sprawled across his bed, his eyes fixed on an invisible point in the air. His posture screamed laziness, but a faint, almost imperceptible glow in his pupils betrayed the truth: a translucent screen only he could see floated before him.

This was his Streamstone, a magical tool he'd tinkered together for analyzing his streams. On the screen, various metrics blinked into existence:

Name: Dilhan Ven Londor

Streamer Name: ZeroVeil

Sex: Male

Age: 21

Class: Arcana (#$@#)

Subscribers: 250

Stream Level: 1

Fan Points: 100

Dilhan scratched his head, looking unimpressed. "Man, 250 subscribers? Is that supposed to be good or bad in this world? Back home, I couldn't even break 500, but hey, we're making progress! Let's go, ZeroVeil gang!" He pumped his fist weakly before flopping back down.

His eyes flicked to the next line. "Stream Level: 1. Hah! Level 1. I'm basically a tutorial boss for streamers. But fan points—100? Does that even buy me anything? Like, what's the point of fans if they don't bring snacks?"

He sighed deeply, swiping at the screen. "And let's not even talk about the real problem: streaming crystals. Every time I save up some cash to buy these beauties, someone swipes them from my setups. Seriously, who does that? Who looks at a shiny crystal broadcasting the smooth baritone of ZeroVeil and goes, 'Yeah, I'll just pocket that'? Absolute monsters, that's who!"

Dilhan propped himself up on his elbows, glaring at the ceiling. "I'm a victim, really. A poor, innocent man just trying to share his art with the world, but no, the world's gotta bully me. Stealing my crystals, draining my wallet. What am I, a charity?"

He swiped again, pulling up the streaming dashboard. His gaze softened as nostalgia flickered across his face.

"Man, I still can't believe I'm here. Oceros. A magical world of kingdoms, magic, and—ugh—blight monsters. All because I died while playing Blighted, the stupidest, most soul-crushing game ever made."

He groaned, rubbing his temples. "I was fighting that one boss, Malakar, the Blighted Emperor. Literally the hardest boss in gaming history. Who the hell gives a boss 15 different attack phases? I must've died a thousand times, and then... pop! There goes a blood vessel, and here I am. Dead at 21. What a legacy."

For a moment, his expression darkened as he remembered his old streaming career. "And let's be real: I wasn't exactly a god-tier streamer back then either. Just a mid-tier guy, trying to make ends meet, chasing subs and donations. I had my behemoth moment, sure, but I was no top dog."

Then, as if someone flipped a switch, Dilhan sat up with renewed energy. "But that's fine! Because it's not the level that matters—it's the grind! Streaming isn't about numbers; it's about having fun! And this world... oh, this world doesn't even know what streaming is. I'm basically a pioneer!"

He pointed at the Streamstone dramatically. "Mark my words, Oceros. I, ZeroVeil, will build the greatest streaming career this world has ever seen! And I'll show everyone here how incredible streaming can be!"

Dilhan was mid-monologue when the door creaked open.

"Young master," came Anna's voice, soft and steady as she stepped inside. She paused, noticing the odd way he froze. "What are you doing?"

"N-Nothing!" Dilhan stammered, swiping his hand through the air to dismiss the Streamstone. He quickly lay back down, adopting the most casual pose he could muster. "Just, uh, meditating. You know, keeping my Arcana sharp."

Anna raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but said nothing. "Young lady Mesuna is waiting for you in the dining hall. Dinner is ready."

Dilhan rolled off the bed, stretching dramatically. "Ah, my lovely sister calls. A prince must never keep his audience waiting!"

He moved toward her, a mischievous grin on his face. Anna, however, avoided his gaze entirely, focusing on the floor as her cheeks flushed a faint pink.

His grin faltered. "Hey, Anna," he asked softly, tilting his head. "Have you eaten yet?"

She nodded quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, young master. Please don't worry about me."

Dilhan smiled warmly. "Good. Make sure to take care of yourself too, okay?"

With that, he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Anna remained there for a moment, her hand gripping the doorknob as she leaned against it. Her face burned, and she whispered to herself, "I love him..."