Master Swordsman’s Stream - Chapter 2

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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 2

The League of Streaming.
On his way home, Seo Jun looked it up.
‘Three hundred thousand average live viewers? Isn’t that practically a professional league level?’
He’d heard from Tae Woo that the tournament had some popularity, but he hadn’t expected this many people watching.
However, after searching a bit more, he quickly realized that while three hundred thousand was certainly impressive, calling it professional league caliber was his own misunderstanding.
‘Right, professional leagues in Korea average over a million viewers.’
The finals apparently drew fifteen million viewers in real time across the globe.
In Korea’s league, that is.
The popularity of the Capsule game exceeded Seo Jun’s imagination.
The enthusiasm had apparently spread even to adults who didn’t have time to game.
Seo Jun had intentionally avoided Capsule-related news until now, so he didn’t know the details.
‘Really, so many people have gotten into it.’
Seven years ago, he hadn’t taken much interest in the Virtual Reality market either.
But he’d at least known it wasn’t popular to this degree.
Upon arriving home, Seo Jun consulted an expert.
A current streamer, to be precise.
“Hey, you know about the League of Streaming?”
His friend.
In response to Seo Jun’s question, Tae Woo answered from the sofa where he was holding his phone.
“Yeah? Of course I know. I went last year and got quick eliminated. Heh. Man, I really wanted last year’s championship prize. Such a waste.”
He bombed out in record time but was already talking about winning.
Seo Jun clicked his tongue inwardly.
“What was it?”
“A car. And they gave the MVP a supercar, no less. Pretty generous prizes, right? Since so many people watch, corporations sponsor them.”
“Ah, I already looked up how many viewers it gets.”
“You did? Why would you suddenly be searching for that? You’ve never cared about Virtual Reality before.”
“I don’t know either.”
He’d lived fine without Virtual Reality for the past seven years.
He could keep living that way.
So why had he looked up information about LIOS?
‘Damn it.’
Truth was, he knew the answer.
For the past seven years, he simply had no way, so he’d been turning his eyes away.
The Virtual Reality he’d experienced seven years ago.
It had been fun. Fun enough to want to go back.
That’s all that mattered, wasn’t it?
‘It’s not like I’m spending a hundred million won.’
Thanks to Oh Ji Hye’s consideration, he could borrow it free of charge until the tournament ended.
It wasn’t like he was wasting years.
‘There’s no reason not to do it.’
Seo Jun sat down beside Tae Woo.
From now on, he needed to think about “how” rather than “why.”
“Tae Woo.”
Seo Jun’s eyes began to gleam.
“Yeah?”
“What are the requirements to participate in LIOS?”
“What’s that about? Sigh. The organizers haven’t publicly stated it, but of course you have to be a streamer. When you apply, if you’re a mid-tier streamer with decent popularity, you’ll usually get in.”
“What if you’re not popular?”
“You get rejected. Viewers want streamers they already know, so there’s no way around it. Though they don’t completely exclude low-popularity streamers either.”
If you get in, you’ve scored.
Tae Woo muttered that to himself.
“So how do you become a successful streamer?”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Tae Woo fell silent in thought for a moment, then sat up and straightened his back.
His serious expression—one he rarely showed—felt awkward.
“I don’t know.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You want to know what I hear most?”
Seo Jun shrugged.
“No clue.”
“That I’m lucky—making money while playing games. That life’s easy for me. No hardship.”
“…….”
“But they don’t know that I’ve been streaming for eight hours every single day for four years out of the last seven without averaging even a hundred viewers? I barely made enough to cover my electric bill some months. After graduation, I felt like I was living off your kindness for a year.”
“That’s rough.”
With Virtual Reality came more viewers, but the ratio of streamers increased proportionally—or even more.
The biggest challenge for streamers was generating viewer traffic.
“Yet I think I’m incredibly lucky. I might have failed in four years. If it pops off, it’s huge. But we don’t know when it will. There’s no method. What if ten years pass and nothing happens?”
Tae Woo continued.
“Someone who blew up and hit ten million subscribers in a year once went through five years of barely growing a thousand during a dark period. Even after enduring that, they might not have made it…”
Of course, there were probably various patterns within it.
“If I had to pick the most important factor, I’d say it’s fun, honestly.”
Tae Woo began explaining.
To succeed in game streaming, you need either charm or skill.
Surprisingly, however, pure skill streams don’t get many viewers.
That’s because substitutes like professional broadcasts and edited videos are abundant.
“So pure skill alone makes success difficult. Not impossible, but difficult. Look at this.”
Tae Woo found an article and showed it to Seo Jun.

[A game streamer should focus on the word “streamer” rather than the game itself. Surprisingly, the game isn’t the main component.]

Advice from one of the top one hundred famous streamers.

As Seo Jun examined it carefully, Tae Woo asked again.
“Are you really interested in streaming?”
“Just now.”
“Heh. After hearing all that? I’m not going to stop you, but what’s your basis?”
Seo Jun closed his eyes in thought.
What’s my basis, he thought.
For the past seven years, he hadn’t been able to properly access Virtual Reality, but Seo Jun could be confident.
‘Most people probably won’t be better than me.’
Many games featured swords as the main weapon, and even if they didn’t use swords, it didn’t matter.
Memory alone—in his past life, he’d experienced every conceivable situation with a blade.
He slowly opened his eyes and spoke with a suppressed smile.
It was absurd even to say it himself.
“Probably… skill?”
“You can’t become a streamer just by being good, I’m telling you.”
“Then how good do I need to be?”
Tae Woo thought hard before answering.
“If you’re better than Shin Ha Yeon, that should do it. Actually, if you’re better than Shin Ha Yeon, you’ll definitely succeed. I’ll stake my reputation on it. You know who that is?”
Shin Ha Yeon.
She was a famous female pro gamer. More popular than most top-tier celebrities, and so iconic with Virtual Reality that people said “Virtual Reality” meant “Shin Ha Yeon” and vice versa. She was practically the face of Virtual Reality itself.
The reason, of course, was the overwhelmingly dominant skill she displayed in the pro league.
“I see.”
After deliberation, Seo Jun made his decision.
For now, let’s try it.
That day, Seo Jun sent a message to Oh Ji Hye saying he would rent a Capsule.

* * *

“So you’re saying you bought it because you’re confident you can be better than Shin Ha Yeon?”
“Yeah.”
“You crazy bastard. Then go pro.”
“That’s risky, so no.”
“You really are crazy.”

* * *

Oh Ji Hye’s reply and shipping were fast.
Less than a day.
As if she’d been waiting.
The only minor issue was this:
“Hey, move over first. I need to connect the cables. Why didn’t you just have me call a technician like I said? Or at minimum, don’t touch it until after I finish streaming!”
Seo Jun listened quietly to Tae Woo’s scolding while the Capsule was being set up, his head bowed.
“Look. Last time you broke your phone and washed it with soap, didn’t I tell you that you’re bad with machines?”
That had apparently happened.
“How could you almost break this while setting it up? This looks expensive as hell!”
Seo Jun had nothing to say, so he just kept running his hand over the Capsule sitting in the corner of the room.
Tae Woo glared at him for a moment, then plugged in the last cable and flopped down on the nearby bed.
“Phew, there we go. Installation’s done. Do you have a biometric account?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you should be able to log in right now.”
“Thanks.”
“No need to thank me. By the way, that’s a premium model—isn’t this a bit much for streaming?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
It’s borrowed.
“Ugh, so where are you planning to stream from?”
“Travel.”
Travel was currently the dominant game streaming platform.
“Same place as me, then. Anyway, let me see your record. How well did you play seven years ago to be so confident? You installed My VR?”
“Yeah.”
Seo Jun turned on his phone and opened the app Tae Woo mentioned.
The screen displayed information about Seo Jun’s Virtual Reality ID.
An administrative app that showed everything from creation date to playtime and records.
“Wait? Am I seeing things? I see a fresh newbie account created less than two days ago? When did you lose all sense of time, sir?”
“Oh, that? I had one before, but I deleted it and made a new one.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m serious.”
He was serious.
“Listen here. If you really are better than Shin Ha Yeon—or even better than me—I’ll do all the housework from now on. But if you’re not?”
Huh?
He’d cast no line, yet the trophy fish had jumped into the boat on its own.
“I do it?”
“How’s that? Chickening out…?”
Seo Jun answered without hesitation.
“I’m in.”
He’d definitely made the right call challenging this.
“Ha! No backing down? I won’t go easy on you just because you’re a newbie. You’re not planning to start streaming today, right?”
“Nope.”
“Then log in now.”

* * *

Seo Jun watched Tae Woo’s retreating back as he headed to his own room, then entered the Capsule.
The lid closed and Seo Jun leaned back comfortably against the seat.
He closed his eyes and lost himself in thought.
Streamer.
A field he knew nothing about.
He wasn’t the naturally entertaining type, and he wasn’t harboring naive thoughts that pure skill alone would carry him through.
So there was nothing wrong with calling what he was doing now a foolish waste of time.
And yet.
The corners of Seo Jun’s mouth turned upward.
‘People always start out knowing far more things they can’t do than things they can.’
If he didn’t challenge what he couldn’t do, there would be nowhere he could go.

[Connecting to Virtual Reality in 10 seconds.]
[10]
[9]
.
.
.
.
[1]

Flash—
As his vision suddenly darkened, a longing sensation washed over Seo Jun.
Whoosh!
Brilliant white light poured through his closed eyelids as he opened them.
This was the Lobby. A pristine white room with nothing in it.
Streamers typically interacted with viewers here before or after games.
Since Seo Jun’s ID had just been created, the Lobby was bare.
‘I should probably decorate it at some point.’

[User #105979 has sent a friend request.]

A message appeared as he was looking around.
When Seo Jun accepted the friend request, another message followed immediately.

[Kim Chul Soo has invited you to the ‘Practice Hall’.]

As soon as he accepted, the background shifted instantly. It looked like a martial arts dojo.
“You made it?”
Tae Woo was approaching from a distance, dragging along a white robotic figure.
“This is the Practice Hall—a basic game that comes preinstalled on the Capsule. You don’t need to download it.”
“Like Minesweeper? We didn’t have anything like this back then.”
“Back when? Meet our dojo’s AI training partner, Kim Chul Soo.”
Tae Woo grabbed Kim Chul Soo from behind and shook him like a puppet.
“Cute.”
“Heh. Once you’ve beaten on him enough, his face alone will make you nervous.”
“What nonsense are you talking?”
Tae Woo smiled meaningfully.
“First, go ahead and hit him. We can talk after. What weapon do you want?”
Obviously.
“Sword.”
Tae Woo positioned Kim Chul Soo in front of Seo Jun and went to a storeroom-like area to retrieve a sword.
“Here.”
Seo Jun took the sword.
When he looked ahead, Kim Chul Soo’s hand generated an identical sword.
“Let me explain now?”
“…Yeah.”
“Good. Kim Chul Soo is a sparring AI. I named him myself. He’s going to fight you. If you beat the Level 7 version of him, I’ll do the housework.”
“Couldn’t we just spar instead?”
“No way—I can’t deliberately hold back. Anyway, here everyone has equal conditions. It’s a place to test pure one-on-one skill. Kim Chul Soo comes in levels 1 through 10. I’ve beaten up to level 8. For a beginner, level 4 should be about right at first.”
Tae Woo shrugged.
“That’s assuming you actually have talent, mind you. For what it’s worth, pros can beat level 9.”
Seo Jun shrugged and began touching the settings window that appeared before him.
“Should be good warmup.”
This was going to be fun.
“Heh, I should probably record this. My friend who’s doing Virtual Reality for the first time fearlessly challenges level 4 and gets beaten down crying. How’s that for a title? If the video gets good views, I’ll even do a special collab stream with you.”
Seo Jun just laughed.
“Just watch quietly.”
“…….”
“…….”
“…….”
“I’m watching. What are you doing? Aren’t you going to start?”
“Um, I can’t?”
“What do you mean you can’t? Just press 4 and start.”
“No, I mean—why is level 10 locked?”
“Hey, what the—”

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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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