Chapter 1476 1394 Zaboru Live Stream : Playing Halo

After almost one and a half hours of playing Monster Hunter, casually destroying several High Rank monsters and completely changing the opinion of thousands of players about the Great Sword, Zaboru finally leaned back and stretched his arms.

"Okay... I think my job here is done," he said with a satisfied grin. "You plebs now understand Great Sword. Whether you're actually good enough to use what I taught you is another problem."

The chat immediately became hostile again.

"BASTARD."

"TEACH US MORE!"

"I TRIED IT AND MISSED RATHALOS SEVEN TIMES!"

"MY GREAT SWORD EXPERIENCE IS JUST SWINGING AT AIR!"

Zaboru laughed. "Skill issue."

That made the chat move even faster.

He returned to the ZEPS 4 menu and looked through his installed games. "Anyway, I've played enough Monster Hunter for now. Let's change things."

The selection moved past several games before stopping on a familiar image of a green-armored soldier standing beneath an enormous artificial ring.

HALO: COMBAT EVOLVED.

"Oh?"

The chat immediately reacted.

"HALO!"

"MASTER CHIEF!"

"PLAY MULTIPLAYER!"

"PLEASE DON'T DESTROY US AGAIN!"

Zaboru chuckled. "Yeah, let's play some multiplayer. I haven't shown Halo much on stream anyway."

He launched the game and moved directly into multiplayer through ZAGE Network. Halo: Combat Evolved in this world remained fundamentally the same game Zaboru remembered from his previous life. Its combat still revolved around rechargeable shields, health beneath them, two carried weapons, grenades, melee attacks, vehicles, power weapons, and the deceptively simple sandbox that made every encounter slightly unpredictable.

But ZAGE had expanded the multiplayer infrastructure considerably.

Because Halo had launched directly into an era where ZAGE Network already existed, Zaboru saw no reason to limit it to simple match results. Every player had a persistent Service Record connected to their ZAGE ID. It tracked kills, deaths, assists, accuracy, headshots, grenade kills, melee kills, vehicle kills, objective captures, favorite weapons, total victories, win rate, and even performance on individual maps.

Halo also contained an expanded medal system inspired by something Zaboru remembered from the later games of his previous life.

Players could earn Double Kill, Triple Kill, Overkill, Killing Spree, Killing Frenzy, Running Riot, Rampage, Sharpshooter, Grenadier, Sniper Kill, Stick, Splatter, Flag Defender, Flag Carrier, Hill Defender, and plenty of other medals during matches. Particularly difficult achievements could permanently unlock small badges for the player's Service Record.

They didn't provide gameplay advantages.

They were simply there to show off.

And naturally, players loved them.

Some people already had entire forum signatures bragging about how many Running Riot medals they had earned.

Zaboru opened his own Service Record.

The chat immediately noticed that his statistics were mostly hidden.

"SHOW YOUR STATS!"

"WHY ARE THEY PRIVATE!?"

"HE'S HIDING HIS 0.4 K/D!"

Zaboru stared at the comments.

"...You want to see?"

"YES!"

Zaboru grinned and changed the privacy option.

His record appeared.

The chat slowed for approximately two seconds.

Then exploded.

His accuracy was absurdly high.

His win rate was ridiculous.

His most-used weapon was the M6D Magnum.

And the number of headshots beside it made several people immediately accuse him of cheating.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ACCURACY!?"

"DEVELOPER AIMBOT!"

"MAGNUM MAIN!?"

"THOSE STATS ARE ILLEGAL!"

Zaboru laughed. "Halo's pistol is amazing. You guys just suck at aiming."

He entered matchmaking.

His first game loaded into Slayer.

Free-for-all.

The map was Hang 'Em High.

The objective was simple.

Kill everyone.

First player to reach the target score won.

"Okay, perfect."

The match began.

Zaboru spawned with the normal starting weapons and immediately moved.

What surprised viewers first wasn't his shooting.

It was how confidently he navigated the map.

He didn't wander around looking for enemies. He already knew where weapons spawned, which elevated positions offered useful sightlines, where players were likely to appear after respawning, and which routes were dangerous because someone could easily control them with rockets or a sniper rifle.

Within seconds, he found his first opponent.

Three Magnum shots.

The first hit the shield.

The second broke it further.

The final shot landed directly on the head.

KILL.

Zaboru didn't even react.

He immediately turned toward another platform.

A second player appeared.

Zaboru fired twice while moving, threw a frag grenade against the wall beside them, and continued running.

The viewer initially thought he had missed.

The grenade bounced.

Rolled behind the enemy.

Exploded.

The weakened player flew forward.

Zaboru finished them with one Magnum shot before they even landed.

DOUBLE KILL.

The chat immediately changed tone.

"OH."

"WAIT."

"THAT GRENADE BOUNCE!?"

Zaboru smiled casually. "Halo grenades are your friends, kids."

Another player approached from behind.

The motion tracker revealed them.

Zaboru spun around, but instead of firing immediately he stepped sideways as the enemy rushed him with an Assault Rifle. The shields on both players started dropping, yet Zaboru calmly closed the distance.

One Magnum shot.

Then a melee strike.

TRIPLE KILL.

"Don't forget melee."

Zaboru kept moving.

His playstyle quickly became terrifying.

The M6D Magnum looked completely different in his hands.

Most players treated it as a reliable sidearm.

Zaboru treated it like a precision rifle.

Someone appeared across the map?

He tapped their shields apart.

Someone tried jumping between platforms?

He tracked them through the air.

Someone rushed with an Assault Rifle?

He backed away while landing accurate Magnum shots until their shield disappeared, then finished with a headshot.

KILLING SPREE.

Then Zaboru reached the Sniper Rifle.

The chat immediately became nervous.

"OH NO."

"What's wrong?" Zaboru asked innocently.

He picked it up.

An enemy jumped across a nearby platform.

Zaboru scoped.

BANG.

Headshot.

He immediately unscoped.

Another enemy appeared much closer.

Zaboru didn't even bother zooming in.

The reticle flicked upward.

BANG.

Headshot.

DOUBLE KILL.

The chat went insane.

"NO-SCOPE!?"

"WITH CONTROLLER!?"

"WHAT IS THAT AIM!?"

Zaboru laughed. "Dual analog isn't bad if you know how to use it."

And that was exactly something Halo had been designed to prove. The controller aim assistance wasn't supposed to play the game for the player. It helped smooth small adjustments and compensate for limitations compared to a mouse, but someone with excellent thumb control could still separate themselves enormously from average players.

Zaboru was demonstrating that difference brutally.

He knew when to use the Magnum.

When to grab the sniper.

When rockets were about to respawn.

When to throw grenades toward corners before he even saw anyone.

And most importantly, he understood Halo's shield system.

He didn't panic simply because someone hit him first.

If his shield became low, he disengaged.

He moved behind cover.

Waited.

Shield recharged.

Then returned.

Several opponents repeatedly chased him because they assumed he was nearly dead, only to discover his shield had already recovered while theirs had not.

KILLING FRENZY.

Zaboru checked the scoreboard.

He was miles ahead.

"Come on, guys..."

One enemy attempted to ambush him.

Zaboru threw a Plasma Grenade.

It stuck directly to their chest.

STICK!

The enemy froze for a moment.

Zaboru made his Spartan crouch twice.

"Goodbye."

BOOM.

The player exploded.

The chat completely lost control.

"HE TEABAGGED BEFORE THE GUY EVEN DIED!"

"TOXIC DEVELOPER!"

"ZABORU CREATED ONLINE GAMING JUST TO BULLY PEOPLE!"

Zaboru nearly dropped the controller from laughing.

Eventually the match ended.

The scoreboard appeared.

Zaboru had reached the score limit first by an enormous margin.

His deaths?

Two.

"Not bad."

"NOT BAD!?"

His screen filled with medals.

Sharpshooter. Killing Spree. Killing Frenzy. Running Riot. Grenadier. Stick. Sniper Kill.

Zaboru nodded as if this was completely ordinary.

Then he entered another match.

This time?

Capture the Flag.

And the map was Blood Gulch.

Zaboru grinned.

"Ohhh. This one is fun."

Two bases sat on opposite sides of the enormous canyon, with open terrain between them and vehicles available to both teams.

Many players assumed Zaboru would simply keep hunting enemies because of how badly he had dominated Slayer.

Instead, the moment the match started, his mentality changed completely.

"Guys, it's Capture the Flag. Kills don't matter if you don't get the damn flag."

He jumped into a Warthog.

One teammate climbed onto the turret while another entered the passenger seat.

Zaboru accelerated across Blood Gulch.

His driving was just as ridiculous as his shooting.

He used hills to break enemy sightlines, changed direction whenever sniper fire appeared, and deliberately drove across terrain that forced opponents to reposition their aim.

A rocket flew toward them.

Zaboru sharply turned.

The rocket missed the rear of the Warthog by almost nothing.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

"Hehehe."

His gunner opened fire and shredded an enemy near the opposing base.

Zaboru drove directly past them, jumped out before the vehicle fully stopped, threw a grenade toward the entrance and rushed inside.

One defender appeared.

Magnum.

Two shots.

Melee.

Dead.

Another defender came around the corner.

Zaboru's shield dropped heavily.

Instead of fighting, he ducked behind the wall.

Grenade bounced around the corner.

Explosion.

The enemy's shield disappeared.

Zaboru stepped out.

Headshot.

He grabbed the flag.

FLAG TAKEN.

"Okay. Run."

The chat laughed.

Zaboru escaped the base while his surviving teammate brought the Warthog around.

He jumped into the passenger seat with the flag.

Then another enemy Warthog appeared directly ahead.

"Ah."

Zaboru threw a Plasma Grenade as they passed.

It stuck to the side of the enemy vehicle.

STICK!

Several viewers already knew what was coming.

BOOM!

The Warthog flipped violently through the air.

Zaboru's team kept driving.

"THAT WAS DISGUSTING!"

They reached their base.

Zaboru captured.

1-0.

He did it again.

Then again.

By the third capture the opposing team had almost stopped trying to chase Zaboru alone because every time someone pursued him he either killed them, escaped, or led them directly toward one of his teammates.

Zaboru didn't finish with the highest kills this time.

He didn't care.

He had three flag captures, numerous defenders killed, assists everywhere, and only a handful of deaths.

The match results gave him several objective medals.

Flag Runner. Flag Defender. Capture Master.

"See?"

Zaboru pointed at the scoreboard.

"This is why people who only stare at kill/death ratio are stupid. If you're playing Capture the Flag and you have thirty kills but never help your team touch the flag, congratulations. You're very impressive and completely useless."

The chat laughed.

For his third multiplayer match, Zaboru entered King of the Hill on a smaller arena.

Again, his playstyle changed.

He didn't camp somewhere safe and farm kills.

He fought around the objective.

Grenades constantly bounced into entrances.

The Assault Rifle became more useful because fights happened at closer range.

Zaboru used melee far more often.

Whenever his shield dropped too low, he briefly abandoned the hill, recovered, and immediately returned instead of dying uselessly inside it.

At one point three enemies pushed him simultaneously.

Zaboru threw one frag grenade toward the first entrance and a Plasma Grenade toward another, then backed into the edge of the hill.

The first grenade stripped two shields.

Zaboru finished one with the Magnum.

Melee killed the second.

The third rushed him.

Zaboru's shield completely disappeared.

His health started dropping.

The viewer count seemed to collectively hold its breath.

Zaboru sidestepped one burst of Assault Rifle fire and hit the enemy with the butt of his weapon.

MELEE KILL.

TRIPLE KILL.

His health bar was barely visible.

Zaboru casually moved behind cover.

"See? Completely safe."

"SAFE!?"

"YOU HAD LIKE ONE HP!"

"THIS BASTARD HAS NO FEAR!"

"Hehehe."

By now the viewers understood something.

Zaboru wasn't simply mechanically good.

His aim was ridiculous, yes.

His controller movement looked absurdly precise.

But what made him really difficult to kill was how rarely he made pointless decisions.

He didn't chase someone simply because they were weak.

He didn't reload in the middle of danger.

He didn't stand in open ground trying to prove his aim was superior.

He used shields properly.

He knew power weapon locations.

He understood grenades.

He respected rockets.

He understood when melee was faster than another shot.

And he always seemed to know where the next fight would happen before everyone else.

That was why he rarely died.

The final King of the Hill score wasn't even close.

When the results screen appeared, Zaboru's Service Record received another collection of medals.

The chat became filled with the same question.

"HOW MANY HOURS DO YOU HAVE IN HALO!?"

Zaboru stared at it.

"...Enough."

"THAT'S NOT AN ANSWER!"

Zaboru laughed.

"Guys, I helped make the damn game. Obviously I've played it."

"THAT DOESN'T EXPLAIN THE AIM!"

"Skill issue."

The chat collectively insulted him again.

Zaboru leaned back while the Halo menu music continued quietly in the background. He had already been livestreaming for several hours after the long Monster Hunter session, and even he could feel that enough was enough.

"Alright."

The chat immediately reacted.

"NO!"

Zaboru laughed. "Yes."

"ONE MORE!"

"PLAY CAMPAIGN LEGENDARY!"

"SLAYER AGAIN!"

"LET US FIGHT YOU!"

"Nope."

He stretched his arms.

"I've already taught you how to use Great Sword, bullied Black Diablos, and now bullied random Halo players."

Zaboru looked strangely proud of that sentence.

"Productive day."

The chat filled with laughter.

He looked directly toward the camera. "Seriously though, Halo multiplayer is much more than just aiming well. Learn the map. Learn when weapons respawn. Learn grenades. Learn when to retreat and let your shield come back. And if you're playing an objective mode..."

He pointed toward the screen.

"Play the fucking objective."

"YES SIR."

Zaboru chuckled.

"And remember, Magnum is amazing."

The chat immediately responded.

"PISTOL IS BROKEN!"

"It's not broken."

"YOU JUST DESTROYED AN ENTIRE LOBBY WITH IT!"

Zaboru shrugged.

"Balanced around me."

The chat exploded one final time.

"Hehehehe."

Zaboru moved the cursor toward the end-stream option.

"Okay, that's enough. Go outside or something."

"YOU PLAYED FOR THREE HOURS!"

"...Don't worry about that."

He laughed.

"See you guys later."

Zaboru waved casually toward the camera.

"Bye-bye You are very cool hehehe."

The livestream ended.

For several seconds, his YouTube page simply displayed the finished broadcast.

Zaboru chuckled "Well things might change a lot hehehe" with that he prepared to come back home.

To be continued.