Master Swordsman’s Stream - Chapter 102

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 102

After stepping out of the capsule, Seo Jun logged into the My VR app.
Here, he could check messages from all his games tied to his account.
And Seo Jun’s message inbox was already flooded with notifications.
People he’d met as teammates and enemies in For the Sect.
Regardless of the outcome, they’d all requested to add him as a friend, and he’d accepted them all.
That figures.
Connections—the mark of a true veteran gamer.
One more Battlefield and he’d probably have a complete profile of his entire family history.
And by then, they’d definitely catch onto his biggest secret: the memory of his past life!
Seo Jun checked the messages without bothering to remind himself that even though he desperately wanted people to notice this, nobody believed him anyway.

[Cheon Sal-sung: I’ll definitely win next time!]
[Cheon Sal-sung: So you’ll participate in the next Battlefield too, right? Who knows? Maybe I’ll rack up another twelve-win streak for you.]

Cheon Sal-sung—still challenging even as he kept losing.
The previous Champion of Champions, the God of Sniping.
He’d encountered him twice during Seo Jun’s assault on the Orthofaction, perfectly timing his engagements, and Seo Jun had been genuinely impressed by his capabilities.

[Celestial Demon 14: Sounds good.]

Seo Jun replied and moved on to the next message.

[Han Pun-man: Please don’t come.]

When in the same faction, he thought, opinions ought to be unified.

[Han Pun-man: Just kidding. If you do come, please join the Orthofaction.]
[Han Pun-man: Otherwise, don’t come at all.]

Seo Jun chuckled.

[Celestial Demon 14: Next time, I’m thinking of joining the Heterodox Sect. The Demonic Cult will have a harder time winning from here on.]

The moment Seo Jun sent the reply, Han Pun-man’s read indicator disappeared.
And then the “typing” indicator appeared.
But no reply came.
He must be giving it serious thought.
Though it shouldn’t be that difficult to respond, should it?
Seo Jun moved on to the next message.

[Sam Jang-ro: If there are seven billion fans of Celestial Demon 14 in the world, I would be one of them.
If there are one hundred million fans of Celestial Demon 14 in the world, I would still be one of them.
If there are ten million fans of Celestial Demon 14 in the world, I would remain one of them.
If there are one hundred fans of Celestial Demon 14 in the world, I would still be one of them.
If there is only one fan of Celestial Demon 14 in the world, that person would probably be me.
If there are no fans of Celestial Demon 14 left in the world, then I would cease to exist.]
Celestial Demon 14, my love.
Celestial Demon 14, my light.
Celestial Demon 14, my darkness.
Celestial Demon 14, my life.
Celestial Demon 14, my joy.
Celestial Demon 14, my sorrow.
Celestial Demon 14, my pain.]

Seo Jun read through it with a flat expression, then replied without a moment’s hesitation.

[Celestial Demon 14: If this had shown up during my stream, you’d definitely be blocked.]

Messages came from many others as well.
People who’d fought him and lost.
Demonic Cult users, thrilled to have won.
And then there was this:

[Dang So: I’ll admit that my contribution makes up about eighty percent, but I can’t deny that your share in the Demonic Cult’s victory is about ten percent!]
[Dang So: Well done!]
[Dang So: For the next Battlefield, I shall…]

Seo Jun didn’t read further.
He was giving himself a self-promotional spiel about how he’d nobly lead the Demonic Cult to victory in the next Battlefield.
But that obviously just meant he wanted to play together in the next one too.
That’s all that mattered.
The rest was nonsense.

[Celestial Demon 14: I’ll think about it.]
[Dang So: Think about what?]
[Dang So: Don’t come!]
[Dang So: I’m asking for a reply! Aren’t you reading this right now?!]

He moved on.

[Bang Ju: Thank you for your hard work, Seo Jun! Would you be willing to share your thoughts?]

Looks like he was trying to get some soundbite.
Seo Jun paused to think, then replied.

[Celestial Demon 14: It was enjoyable. I was satisfied with winning first place.]
[Celestial Demon 14: If I receive an invitation from Muvi Soft, I’ll return as Celestial Demon then.]
[Bang Ju: Thank you.]

He read it right away.
“Muvi Soft will definitely invite me.”
He’d heard that players in the top sixteen of the Battlefield get called for special events, though he didn’t know exactly what they’d be. But like the Battlefield itself, he figured they’d be fun.
So if they invited him, he’d go.
“Speaking of which, the Orthofaction dropped out first, so none of their top-sixteen players made it. How are they handling that?”
There would be some from previous Battlefields, but the numbers would probably be thin.
Though that wasn’t really Seo Jun’s concern.
After sending his final reply, Seo Jun turned off his phone.
“It’s really over.”
For the Sect.
A game with a distinct personality throughout, and one that was uniquely interesting.
The fights themselves weren’t anything special, but the way Martial Arts System was translated into game mechanics was intriguing, and the competition between factions was genuinely fun.
If there was one regret, it was never getting the chance to face professional players.
No matter how skilled the players of For the Sect were with swords and how far they pushed the Martial Arts System, pros operate on an entirely different level.
It’s a world where a single flaw—lacking skill, sense, or game sense—means you don’t survive. That’s the professional scene.
“Still, it’s probably too much to expect pros to get into something like this.”
The Battlefield content itself required constant communication to stay competitive.
“The Techniques are the real barrier.”
Every game had an inherent entry barrier.
Each character’s skills, the properties of those skills, the in-game systems, countless details.
For someone starting fresh, it all seems impossibly daunting.
But surprisingly, people who actually play tend to absorb most of this naturally.
If someone finds a game genuinely fun and plays while watching related content, they eventually shock themselves by knowing every skill of over a hundred characters without realizing it. That’s not uncommon among gamers.
For the Sect was the same.
If only the Rankers had studied Techniques with moderation.
Just moderation.
“But there has to be a limit.”
Instead, they’d gotten consumed by the concept.
As if they’d become actual martial artists, they kept diving deeper into Techniques, and catching up would require an enormous time investment.
They’d created an insurmountable gap that you simply couldn’t bridge through casual enjoyment alone.
It wasn’t for nothing that Lee Dong-su, who’d kept things light, chose the Green Forest.
Though none of that applied to him.
“Man, that was fun.”
Seo Jun smiled.
“And I hit my goal too.”
He’d actually reached thirty thousand viewers during today’s stream.
Unlike AiTube, which gives out buttons for meeting subscriber counts, this much was enough to say he’d built solid recognition that would likely secure him a spot with Lios.
“Though it’s inflated.”
Since he wouldn’t be playing For the Sect anymore, how many viewers would stick around was unknown territory.
But the general consensus was he’d definitely hold onto mid-tier streamer status for a while.
The impact wasn’t going anywhere, and besides, now that For the Sect’s Battlefield is over, people probably won’t jump ship en masse.
“Tomorrow and the day after are off-stream days.”
Not because he desperately wanted the break.
Too many viewers could actually be poison. If he kept streaming For the Sect, sure, but he’s not.
He needed time for only the right people to stay.
If he only cared about short-term numbers, he’d stream non-stop. But doing it this way is better long-term.
Plus, the break is necessary anyway.
‘Anyone who’s going to leave will leave regardless.’
He had things to do tomorrow.

* * *

Early the next morning.
After returning from his workout, Seo Jun checked the announcement he’d posted on AiTube.

[Taking 2 days off stream. I think I’ve earned the right to be lazy.]

-Is hyung trying to kill us?
-“Earned the right to be lazy” lmaoooo
-Now that the Battlefield’s over, we’re back to these random breaks?
└Remember during the Assassination Guild’s Hidden Quest? Right before he finished it he went off broadcast and took a break
└That gave me PTSD lmaooo
└We might need to pray for real lmao
-Boss… I’m already cold… Just open the doors now
-This is the Celestial Demon who led the Demonic Cult to victory??
-You guys should reflect. Hyung got donations like that yesterday and now he’s getting lazy.
└I dropped 100k won yesterday, can you refund me if I ask, boss?
-What streamer takes a break like this?? And two days at that?
-We’re grateful you made us win, but this doesn’t feel right, hyung. Address please ^^

After skimming through over a thousand comments, Seo Jun reflected.
‘The reaction is pretty standard.’
No different from the usual chat during streams.
The announcement had been well-received.
It’d definitely paid off to time it perfectly for 6 AM, right when his viewers usually went to bed.
Satisfied, Seo Jun closed the announcement and opened his email.
His inbox was full of sponsorship offers for new games.
All of them scheduled for this week.
Advertising before moving to the next game seemed perfectly timed, and they were all attractive offers—but Seo Jun had to pick just one.
They were all competing titles, after all.
And the game Seo Jun initially selected was a co-op game developed by Monster.
The terms were the best.
Twenty million won.
‘Muvi Soft gave me ten million, but that was an exceptional case.’
It was the kind of offer typically reserved for mid-tier streamers with 400–500k subscribers and 10–20k concurrent viewers.
Even if Seo Jun’s streams were getting concentrated attention, AiTube’s platform wasn’t that weak to begin with.
But that’s not why he chose this game.
‘The game just looked fun.’
It wasn’t that he’d gotten hooked on the horror genre they’d mentioned in their initial email.
Horror is just the theme; the actual genre is a two-player cooperative action-adventure game.
That’s right.
Games where two or more players cooperate against a common enemy are typically called co-op games, and Seo Jun wanted to give this one a try.
But even though the ad schedule was tight—just three days away—he hadn’t finalized his decision yet.

[Han Ji-min: Boss! Tell me who you’re doing the ad with! I’m curious!]
[Jin Seo-jun: Will do.]

Since it was a co-op game, the partner mattered. Monster had reached out saying they thought it’d be more fun if it was kept a surprise.
They said they’d tell him if he was curious.
Well, if he didn’t like it, he’d refuse even with just three days left. He’d made that clear, and they’d acknowledged it and moved on.
He figured they had their reasons for wanting to keep it secret anyway.
“I should get going.”
It was currently 8 AM.
The meeting was at 4 PM, so he had eight hours, but since he was still a student, he had lectures to attend.
That’s why he was up.
“Huh? What are you doing?”
When he stepped out of his room, he found Tae-woo on the sofa in outdoor clothes, scrolling through his phone.
Normally, Tae-woo would be sleeping around this time as a side effect of being dragged to the gym with Seo Jun, but the fact that he was awake surprised him.
“Oh. I’ve got somewhere to be soon. Getting ready.”
“Really?”
Seo Jun didn’t think much of it.
Even though Tae-woo loved games, he wasn’t the type to never leave his bed.
Click.
Seo Jun opened the front door and headed toward the bus stop, thinking to himself.
‘No way the co-op partner is that guy, right?’
A bad feeling crept in.
But since Tae-woo was already getting ready to go out, it seemed unlikely.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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