Master Swordsman’s Stream - Chapter 60

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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 60

An Indie Game is short for Independent Game.
It earned its name because a small team develops it at their own company, free from various forms of interference.
“Let’s start a meeting about the situation we’re facing right now.”
“Yes, CEO.”
Park Hyuk-soo had long since grown accustomed to holding meetings right where he sat, without a dedicated conference room.
His CEO and he were in a garage.
Not Silicon Valley, of course, but despite working out of a garage, they were developing a virtual reality game with ten people.
Though the development team numbered ten, only two were physically present in the garage—the other eight worked remotely.
“The game is almost done, and while development did slip a bit behind schedule, we’ve navigated that without any real problems. Thanks for sticking with it!”
The defining characteristic of indie game development is the lack of money.
No one to answer to meant no investors—they were one and the same.
“Fortunately, thanks to institutional support and Stream looking favorably on us, we haven’t had any wage delays. What a great company to work for.”
Park Hyuk-soo suddenly felt something catch in his throat and stared at the CEO with an incredulous expression.
“I’m on minimum wage, sir. You said you’d make me rich. What is this?”
“But we agreed to split the profits, didn’t we? At this point, I’ve got nothing left either. I’m the CEO, and I’m taking home about the same as the rest of you.”
The CEO had spent every penny he’d saved from his previous corporate job on developing this game.
“So what’s the point then? The probability of success is so low.”
More than two thousand virtual reality games launch every year.
Only a handful of them even recoup their development costs.
Far fewer achieve actual success.
Fortunately, their game had caught the eye of Stream, a game distribution platform and subsidiary of Surface, which allowed them to receive support.
That alone put them in the top ten percent. It meant someone saw potential.
You could say it’s odd for an independent game company to receive funding from a distribution platform, but if you can get it, you take it.
The road is that difficult. Wage defaults and bankruptcies happen constantly; even if you somehow manage to finish the game, there’s no guarantee of success.
“Ahem, anyway. We’re nearly there, so let’s think positively, yeah? Now the only thing left is to sell the game.”
“Right. So what’s the agenda for this meeting?”
“We’re almost finished, but there’s still one more hurdle ahead.”
“What could possibly be left?”
“That would be none other than: Promotion!”
“Promotion? Don’t tell me Stream isn’t providing marketing support? And you’re asking me about it with just the two of us in a meeting like this?”
Asking for something meant asking about money.
“I won’t throw in my own money to supplement anything. I can’t even if I wanted to—I’m out of cash. You know that, right?”
Park Hyuk-soo spoke firmly.
Fortunately, what came out of the CEO’s mouth didn’t go in that direction at all.
“No, don’t worry. We got a response yesterday. The amount is eighty million won—that’s our marketing budget.”
“Oh, that’s good news. Though eighty million does seem a bit awkward.”
Of course, the amount itself was extremely generous. Plenty of games receive no support whatsoever.
But eighty million won.
Stream, the distribution platform, seemed to think very highly of their game.
The reason he called it awkward, though, was simple.
“Right. The real problem is figuring out how to structure this combination.”
Because the game they were making was a two-player cooperative game.
So they planned to recruit streamers in pairs—but deciding on the right pairing was the issue.
Should they recruit one pair, including someone from a major company?
Or recruit four mid-tier streamers?
Or ask individual streamers to find their own partners?
Everything was a concern.
“Anyway, that’s why I need you to make a list.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You know streamers better than anyone here.”
“But I’m not even the marketing person.”
“Where is our marketing department, exactly?”
Fair point.
All ten of them had come together specifically to develop the game.
Park Hyuk-soo fell into thought.
He wasn’t a professional streamer.
Just someone who casually watched various streamers on YouTube and thus had a broad familiarity with their culture.
As Park Hyuk-soo continued to mentally picture which streamers might suit their game, a recent streamer suddenly came to mind.
“Hmm, CEO, would someone a tier or two below mid-tier be okay? There’s a streamer who’s been gaining attention lately.”
“Who?”
“Jin Seo-jun. This streamer’s track record is pretty remarkable….”
Park Hyuk-soo began explaining what he knew about Seo-jun.
As Park Hyuk-soo described some decidedly unusual accomplishments, the CEO’s head began to tilt in confusion.
The reason was simple.
“The first chapter we’re showcasing in our promotional preview has a horror concept, right? But this person is too good at it?”
The game’s actual genre was action-adventure.
But the first chapter’s concept was horror, and what made horror games fun was watching someone clumsy, unskilled, and easily frightened tremble in fear.
Yet from what he was hearing, Jin Seo-jun was far too skilled, and his personality seemed fearless.
Park Hyuk-soo nodded thoughtfully.
“Even so, wouldn’t someone that skilled being scared actually amplify the effect even more? And more importantly, you know that streamer Kim Tae-woo?”
“Yeah, I know him.”
The CEO had recently looked up information on all the mid-tier streamers on Travel.
“They’re old classmates, apparently. People know about it too. I thought their pairing could work out well.”
The CEO fell silent for a moment upon hearing that.
He was picturing it.
“Alright. Let’s put that combination on our list of possibilities for now. And the advertising rate would be a bonus too.”
If they could save costs through a streamer like Jin Seo-jun while still getting good results, that would be ideal.
“Yes, and if you’re uncertain, just ask him directly.”
“Ask what?”
“Whether he’s good at horror games.”

* * *

Thunk.
A sword pierces the chest.

[Dongdong defeated]

-How do you not land a single hit? Is it that difficult?
-Every time I watch, I think: doesn’t the Abbot run a Swordsmanship school? I want to learn
-You want to learn from the World’s First Swordmaster? Did you see what he does?
-Well, yeah, I guess that’s fair……
-And the crazy part is he does it exactly the same way in real life too ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

The World’s First Swordmaster was the first disciple Seo-jun had ever taught Swordsmanship to in this life.
Though before meeting the swordmaster, he’d asked Tae-woo about it.
‘Want to learn swordsmanship?’
‘Are you insane?’
‘???’
‘I’ve seen what you do to athletes at the gym—if my brain hasn’t rotted, there’s no way I’m learning from you.’
And that was that.

-He might be good at teaching, but as a teacher? Definitely not likable ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-He’s just using it as a stress outlet
-Real talk: harassing people is his hobby
-But even so, after graduation you end up missing the Abbot who used to torment you ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-Abbot ㅋㅋㅋ triggered my trauma
-By the way, is anyone close to his age?

The evaluation of him was harsh.
In his past life, he’d never heard such criticism once.
Anyway, ignoring the chatter of viewers
among themselves, Seo-jun turned
his attention to whether he should wait here or head back.
The path he was standing on was the route where wagons passed.
Which meant if he waited, a wagon would come.
‘And enemies will come this way too.’
It was the shortest route.
Side paths were only for ambush preparation.
“Said he’d go ahead and prepare, but looks like he’s dead instead.”
A faint voice came from a distance.
Enemies.
Given how slowly wagons moved, they couldn’t be allies.
And at the same time, a team chat popped up.

[Abbot. How about 200k won if you win this game without me?]

Checking the ID, it was one of his viewers.
A Mission?
Seo-jun couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity.
“Well, that’s a sudden Mission.”
It wasn’t a bad thing.
While it was ridiculous to suddenly have a teammate set a Mission mid-game, he didn’t dislike Missions themselves.
Seo-jun first quietly backed away to increase the distance, then spoke.
“I’ll do it right away.”
He opened the team chat and sent his reply.

[Sure thing.]

-So you can place a Mission just by watching it ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-That guy’s definitely not normal
-For real
-I’m scared the thing where he posed with a tree branch earlier is going to haunt my dreams ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Seo-jun reflected.
Surely among all these comments, there were people similar to that viewer.
A response came back.

[If you fail, show us the Christina affection Quest!]
[…]
[Understood.]

Seo-jun accepted reluctantly, and the viewers cheered.
And right then, a system notification popped up.
One of his teammates had quit the game—an Abandonment notification.
The viewer had abandoned the match.
“Oh no…….”
Seo-jun laughed in disbelief once more.
“Was there really any need to abandon the match?”
Abandonment incurred a penalty.
It was designed to prevent people from rage-quitting whenever things went badly and leaving remaining teammates in an unfair situation.

-That’s pretty wild
-He’s the type who pays the price for his own bet ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-200k plus the abandon penalty ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-But he was magnificent
-Yeah! Not forgetting about Christina like that!
-Oh right. The abandon……

One comment stood out among the laughing viewers.
Whether it was sincere or not, he made a note of the ID.
To issue a ban if the viewer reneged on the Mission.
“So it’s two on three now.”
Seo-jun spoke, sensing the approaching enemies.
“From here on, I’d better catch them before they even reach the wagon.”
Seo-jun stood in the center of the path, infused his sword with Internal Energy, and waited.
The enemies appeared.
“Still haven’t gone back to the wagon, huh?”
“Then let’s catch him quick!”
There were two enemies.
In normal games, it’s hard to tell what class someone has just from their outfit, but in Cooperation for the Sake Of, players dressed themselves appropriately, so it was easy to tell.
The ragged outfit clearly belonged to the Demonic Cult, not the Orthodox Faction.
The other was dressed smartly like a prestigious family and wielded Throwing Blades—unmistakably the Dang Family.
‘Dang Family, huh. That reminds me of Dang So.’
After joining the Demonic Cult, Dang So had flourished like a fish in water.
Apparently, her very first faction choice had even been the Demonic Cult.
The story went that because she kept losing in every battle and the game stopped being fun, she changed her nickname and switched to the Dang Family—and when word got out that she was committed to winning the championship, she showed real determination.
“Are you Green Forest? That outfit’s perfect for banditry, at least.”
“What are you talking about? And what’s with the lame ‘Heavenly Demon’ talk?”
“Never mind. Let’s just catch him.”
The Green Forest player rushed forward first.
The bandit took the vanguard while the Dang Family member provided ranged support from the rear.
Whoosh!
A massive Greatsword cut through the air from left to right.
Rather than blocking, Seo-jun ducked his head and dodged the Greatsword.
Green Forest players, lacking Martial Technique, compensated with overwhelming External Force.
So blocking a Green Forest attack required resources—stamina and Internal Energy—worth twice as much as the strike itself.
As a result, even against their strongest attacks, an opponent wouldn’t dare risk a parry.
Simple, but powerful!
Yet the counter was equally simple.
If you can’t block, dodge.
“You’ll never lay a hand on that wagon.”
Seo-jun spoke in an even tone as he sidestepped the blade.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve decided it.”
“This guy’s completely insane!”
Clang.
The bandit’s sword, swung downward, struck the ground.
Seo-jun slipped past the attack by tilting his shoulder, then used Light Qinggong to dart toward the Dang Family member aiming at him from range.
Those Throwing Blades coming at him from afar had been annoying from the start.

-Look at him starting his nonsense the second he sees enemies
-Targeting Dang Family first is smart. When did he start using his head?
-He’s always had it. Just been relying on his body more.

As Seo-jun charged forward, the Dang Family player backpedaled.
The right call.
Any archer or throwing weapon user must always keep range advantage in mind.
But by stepping backward, the distance kept closing in real time.
The options available were to turn and run properly to increase the gap, or—
“Go ahead and come at me. I’d love it!”
To keep attacking while the enemy closes in.
Whoosh!
A Throwing Blade leaves the player’s hand.
It streaks from the fingertips directly at Seo-jun’s brow.
Since Seo-jun was moving forward, the subjective speed of the blade felt more than doubled.
Ring!
“Got him! Nobody dodges this one!”
Throwing a Throwing Blade at someone closing the distance was the enemy’s favorite scenario.
So naturally, this time they thought it was certain to hit.
But then—
Clang!

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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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