Master Swordsman’s Stream - Chapter 3

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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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Episode 3

“Why can’t I challenge stage 10?”
Tae Woo exhaled and began his explanation.
“You have to beat the stage 9 AI first to challenge stage 10.
And stage 10 isn’t just any regular AI.”
“What is it, then?”
“It’s an AI modeled after the best player among those who cleared stage 9.”
Ah.
“By the way, the current stage 10 AI is someone you know well.”
“Shin Ha Yeon?”
“Bingo.”
“So if someone beats the stage 10 AI, does it change to that person?”
“Yeah, I’d assume so. For the record, Shin Ha Yeon has been stage 10
for five years now. Anyway, get started already.”
Seo Jun was inwardly impressed.
“Got it.”

* * *

‘Finally starting, huh.’
Tae Woo watched Seo Jun with keen interest.
The way he swung the sword through the air once or twice didn’t look like he was picking it up for the first time.
‘Did he learn this from a martial arts academy for gaming?’
There were people like that, supposedly.
People who sought out real-world martial arts schools to get better at games, who trained their bodies.
But from the perspective of someone seven years into streaming, Tae Woo thought it was better to just play another round of any random game in that time.
Why did even outstanding athletes sometimes flounder here?
There was only one reason.
‘Real-world physical ability doesn’t transfer to your avatar.’
A virtual reality avatar scans your body and moves as you will, but everyone is limited to their preset performance cap.
A two-meter rugby player could lose an arm-wrestling match to an average 160-centimeter adult woman.
What worked in virtual reality was technique, experience, and mental fortitude.
And in some games, people moved far faster than they could in reality.
‘Well, not training at all is even worse.’
Tae Woo thought it was inefficient.
Beep!
A whistle sounded from somewhere, and Chul Soo began to move.
‘Is he tense? He should raise his sword. Heh.’
Even as Chul Soo approached, Seo Jun stood perfectly still.
Kim Tae Woo wanted to see that carefree friend’s expression darken with confusion.
When Yeonmujang first came out, he’d blindly challenged stage 4 and gotten thoroughly beaten by Chul Soo.
A one-on-one without skill assistance wasn’t as easy as people thought.
That’s when he’d been waiting for his always-relaxed friend to go rolling.
Chul Soo swung his sword, but Seo Jun neatly sidestepped and slashed back.
Chul Soo’s HP dropped by 1.
The Yeonmujang sparring match had a simple rule: each player started with 10 HP, damage dealt with the sword reduced it by 1, and whoever reached 0 first lost.
Chul Soo retreated, creating distance.
‘A fluke? But why’s Chul Soo backing away?’
Was stage 4 AI that loose?
He should be counterattacking immediately.
As Tae Woo wondered.
“You won’t come? Then I’ll go.”
This time, Seo Jun moved toward Chul Soo.
Tae Woo felt the next scene replay in his mind.
‘He got excited about the fluke. If he charges like that, he’ll just get stabbed and lose stamina… What?’
Chul Soo’s response was textbook perfect—too perfect, even, for stage 4.
But Seo Jun clashed swords with Chul Soo, altered the trajectory, and then, flowing seamlessly as he deflected it to the side, rotated his body to land another hit.
The entire sequence was so fluid that even watching from the sidelines, Tae Woo felt as though Seo Jun’s speed exceeded Chul Soo’s.
‘But this is virtual reality—physical advantage is impossible.’
Seven years of experience told him so.
It only looked fast because the series of movements had no wasted motion; the actual speed of each sword stroke was identical between Chul Soo and Seo Jun.
Seo Jun charged at Chul Soo again, beginning to toy with him.
He blocked Chul Soo’s sword five times in a row without moving his feet, tripped him, pinned his sword with his foot so he couldn’t lift it.
When Chul Soo’s HP was down to 1, he started striking with his hands and feet—damage that didn’t consume HP.
Thwack.
Thwack.
Each of Seo Jun’s movements looked practiced.
As if he’d foreseen how the enemy would move, he threw himself into the opponent’s reach without hesitation.
Even attacks that seemed unavoidable, Seo Jun countered as though he’d known them all along, finding openings Chul Soo hadn’t even noticed.
“Ugh, hey. Did you really play this seven years ago? Damn it. Hurry up and move to stage 7.”
How could he have this kind of skill and not play games until now?
Annoying bastard.
The kind of guy who’d probably do great with just his face on camera streaming—but he had actual skill too?
But.
‘Still, skill alone isn’t enough to succeed… that’s a bit rough.’
As a friend, concern took precedence.
Seo Jun slashed across Chul Soo’s throat, and a notification appeared.

[You have won the sparring match.]
[HP 10 / 00:02:23]
[Current Rank: 107th]

Tae Woo paused at the window that suddenly appeared.
‘Why is a ranking showing up? The ranking system only counts stage 9…’
Tae Woo noticed that Seo Jun was still manipulating the empty window after the sparring match ended.
And light gathered in front of Seo Jun, beginning to take on human form.
He felt a sense of déjà vu from this summoning-like scene.
‘No way?’
What materialized was a robot.
The newly summoned robot’s form also resembled a person. Not intricately detailed, but roughly feminine in shape, and the nickname floating above its head was.

[Shin Ha Yeon]

His jaw dropped. He felt goosebumps all over his body.
“Wait, was Chul Soo that I just beat actually stage 9?”
He hadn’t realized because the defeat was so one-sided.
Chul Soo’s movements were clearly beyond stage 4—beyond even stage 8, which Tae Woo had barely managed to beat!
Seo Jun simply laughed it off and said,
“Not a big deal.”
He’d casually overwhelmed someone that even professionals struggled to beat.
‘If he beats stage 10 too, this is totally…’
Content gold.
Tae Woo was a streamer to his core.
Even as he thought, ‘No way he beats this,’ Tae Woo swallowed hard and hurriedly pressed the recording button.
‘I was planning to let him win using the collab stream as an excuse.
But now I’m gonna end up begging him for a collab later, aren’t I?’
Any worry about Seo Jun vanished without a trace.

* * *

A strange sensation.
When walking, swinging his arms, even breathing.
When clashing swords.
But it wasn’t strong enough to be particularly noticeable.
‘It’s a good capsule, so things are different.’
Technology’s advances were remarkable.
And.
Seo Jun looked at the robot holding his sword across from him.

[Shin Ha Yeon]

He’d felt it before, but she really was a genius.
If this robot mimicked Shin Ha Yeon’s control perfectly, then she had more talent than anyone Seo Jun had seen in his past life.
‘Except for one person, that is.’
In any case, the fact that someone this skilled could emerge in the mere decade-plus since virtual reality arrived was astounding.
“Maybe if you trained for another eighty years, you could beat me.”
Just as Seo Jun was enjoying himself for the first time in a while, Tae Woo shouted from the side.
“What are you talking about? Hey, focus here, don’t look away!”
Tch.
Shin Ha Yeon’s HP was cut down by more than half.
By contrast, Seo Jun’s HP hadn’t lost a single point.
Tae Woo seemed thoroughly excited.
He even had recording on, which showed his dedication.
True professional.
Seo Jun parried Shin Ha Yeon’s charging AI while looking at Tae Woo beside him.
“Tsk, tsk. You’ve watched all this and still don’t get it?”
“I said focus!”
He looked like a real idiot.
Anyway, this place had everyone operating at the same power level with no one exceeding the same speed, so only mental fortitude and technique mattered.
Seo Jun, carrying memories from his past life, couldn’t possibly lose.
Inner strength may be gone, but one’s realm of mastery is eternal.
Shin Ha Yeon’s AI began mixing in unconventional movements after realizing it couldn’t move the way it normally did.
‘Is this still mimicking Shin Ha Yeon’s movements? Or is it the AI’s own judgment? Either way…’
Before Shin Ha Yeon’s sword could reach its intended target, Seo Jun’s extended blade scraped against the opponent’s blade, altering its course.
Screeeee!
The sound of blade scraping blade—a sound he hadn’t heard in a long time—came pleasantly.
The sword that had been aimed at his throat flew past by mere inches, and Seo Jun seized the moment, flicking his blade.
The sword clattered to the ground as the AI’s body became wide open and defenseless.
Swiiish!
He slashed diagonally across the AI’s unprotected torso.

[HP 4]

The AI quickly retreated to pick up its sword after taking the hit.
But Seo Jun closed the distance half a beat faster.
The gap between them narrowed, and the AI allowed another hit.

[HP 3]

In combat where both opponents have the same speed, whoever initiates the next move first wins.
To do that, you need to predict the opponent’s movements.
What the AI would do in this situation was obvious.
Seo Jun precisely thrust his sword at the AI’s arm as it reached for its weapon.
Clang!
The blade didn’t pierce the arm; instead came the sound of metal striking metal.

[HP 2]

Even as its arm was grazed by the sword, the AI persisted and managed to grab the fallen blade.
But Seo Jun immediately moved on to his next action.
A Vertical Strike, textbook perfect.
Boom!
The AI raised its sword to block, but the tip of Seo Jun’s blade touched the AI’s head.

[HP 1]

From his previous encounters, Seo Jun had learned that this place didn’t distribute the same amount of force every time—only the maximum threshold remained constant.
What mattered was perfect force transfer.
The AI’s wrist, braced as it knelt to block the sword, buckled.
‘That’s the realistic part about this place.’
Nevertheless, it pushed off the ground and charged to thrust at Seo Jun.
An art only possible for a robot that doesn’t die.
And then a thought occurred to him.
Didn’t that apply to him too?
Seo Jun didn’t bother dodging—instead he thrust at the AI’s body simultaneously.
In his past life, that would’ve been like mutual destruction.
But this place was different.

No blood flowed. The pain was just a slight sting.
It was fun.
Seo Jun calmly pulled out the sword embedded in his chest and spoke.

Tae Woo grinned widely as he answered.
“Didn’t I tell you? You need to stream.”
Seo Jun smiled back at his foolish friend’s expression.

“Ugh, this is annoying. Should I just skip it?”

Seo Jun and Tae Woo stepped out of the capsule and sat in the living room, eating ice cream and talking.
“Hey, why’d you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You posted becoming the new stage 10 as unlisted. If that gets out, thousands of people are definitely gonna come flooding in, right?”
There was a reason for it.
“I haven’t even done one broadcast yet. Even if people show up, they’re all fake—it’s a castle on sand.”
“Castle on sand?”
Even if he’d kept his distance from academics…
Ugh.
Seo Jun swallowed the lecture his inner old man wanted to give him and explained simply.
“It means a house built on sand—basically, if you don’t have a solid foundation, it crumbles easily.”
“So when will you go public with it?”
“When I’m established and the timing is right. Better to let it out when momentum’s building than to have it rush in and drain away.”
“Ah.”
Tae Woo, being a broadcaster himself, understood immediately.
“You really haven’t done any broadcasting before? What if you’re some major corporation executive? Ugh, that’d be creepy.”
Seo Jun gave Tae Woo a look as he shuddered and began to explain.
“You know what hosting is, right?”
“When a streamer ends their stream and sends viewers to another
streamer’s channel?”
“Technically, it’s when you play another streamer’s broadcast on your screen. Viewer counts combine, but when a high-viewer streamer hosts a low-viewer one, it boosts awareness and gives them a shot—except it often doesn’t work. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because most people can’t capitalize on the opportunity. There are cases where even if viewers increase, a month later only the regulars come back—exactly what you called a castle on sand. See, you’ve got a natural instinct for streaming. That’s why, Seo Jun.”
“What.”
“When should we do a collab stream?”
What nonsense was this now.
“The video’s gonna blow up trending for sure! And if we collab on top of that!”
Smack.
Seo Jun kicked his friend’s shin for spouting nonsense, then said,
“You’re loud. Go do your neglected chores instead.”
“Ahhh! Right, the chores! Can’t you just help out once? Huh?”
“No.”
You said you had no remorse about it.
Tae Woo clutched his shin and collapsed onto the couch.

* * *

The next day. Seo Jun entered the lobby and began preparing for his broadcast.
His goal was to build some level of recognition as a streamer in a short period of time.
So which game should he start with?
Tae Woo had explained it like this the day before.
‘Popular online games have tons of streamers competing, so they’re not easy to stand out in.’
And to get attention, you’d need to climb to a high tier.
‘Package games are low-pressure, but there’s barely an audience.’
Each had its pros and cons.
And Tae Woo had smiled knowingly as he said,
‘But there’s always an optimal move where the cons are minimized and the pros are maximized.’
Exactly.
The game Tae Woo had recommended was famous enough that even Seo Jun had heard of it.
And it was perfectly suited to Seo Jun’s situation.
Seo Jun smiled with anticipation as he entered Trable and began preparing his broadcast.
After setting the broadcast title, he needed to set the category of what game he’d be playing.
Looking at the total viewership of that game by category,
“It’s third.”
Seo Jun confirmed the game’s popularity once more before starting the download.
A package game that had launched just a week ago and was drawing massive interest thanks to the series’ already-strong reputation.

-831,000 viewers-

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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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