Video Game Tycoon in Tokyo-Chapter 911: Growth

Davidson shook his head at the comment and replied, "Although there's no explicit difficulty option, we actually implemented a hidden scaling mechanic: each time you beat the game, the internal difficulty ramps up a bit. There is an upper limit, of course, but for the first few New Game+ cycles you'll still get the full challenge experience."

"Seriously? Huh, maybe I'll give New Game+ a shot after all."

With that, Davidson resumed playing. Meanwhile, more and more viewers discovered that Takayuki Interactive Entertainment's official channel was streaming Sekiro, and they flooded into the broadcast—the concurrent viewership count shot up to half a million in no time and kept climbing. Behind the scenes, Takayuki's sales dashboard showed Sekiro's sales steadily rising—many of those buyers were the same people who'd refunded after just two hours of play.

Among them was Bart.

To be honest, he'd been on the fence about refunding Sekiro in the first place. He'd been intrigued by its distinctive Japanese cultural elements and had even learned two kanji—"death" and "danger." At first, seeing those characters drove him nuts, since each death only ramped up his frustration. But after watching the stream, he realized those symbols weren't so off-putting after all.

He wanted to keep watching, but he didn't want spoilers—he wanted to experience the game himself. So he closed the stream, repurchased Sekiro, downloaded it, and dove back into its world.

Playing it himself felt very different from watching Davidson. On stream the pro never took a scratch, but as a newbie, how could Bart hope to replicate that? Still, he desperately wanted to pull off a no-damage run like Davidson had. It just looked so cool to see a fearsome boss fall under your blade.

And so he embarked on countless death-filled encounters with the Red Oni boss.

This time, he refused to quit. Every time the kanji for "death" popped up, his resolve burned stronger. In his mind, he replayed Davidson's effortless performance—that became his goal.

"Hiss... dead again!"

"No, I shouldn't have been greedy—one slash is enough!"

"Crap, I got backed into a corner—never let that happen again."

"Aaah! Why did he throw me off the cliff?! Next time, I'll stay away from edges!"

Bart died swiftly and cleanly each time. Yet he realized these were minor mistakes—small slips that cost him his life. Sekiro's margin for error is razor-thin; you must stay laser-focused, never relax. Calm... composed... and above all, never angry.

He recalled the lessons from the stream: each failure is just setting up your eventual success—every death accumulates experience and fosters growth.

By his fiftieth death against the Red Oni, he began gleaning insights—the boss's heavy attacks could often be blocked with your sword, not just dodged as he'd assumed. By the seventieth death, he'd learned exactly how to evade the "danger" attacks to maximize follow-up strikes—angles and timing that let him land one or two extra hits safely.

This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.

Seventy-one. Seventy-two. Seventy-three. Each trial tested which approach yielded the greatest reward.

By now, when the "death" prompt appeared, despair and rage had given way to calm acceptance. He sensed he was internalizing the game's secrets.

Facing the Red Oni again, he moved fluidly—battle had become second nature. He recognized every attack pattern and knew how to capitalize on every opening.

Then, on his seventy-fourth attempt, his blade finally found its mark—and the Red Oni fell.

It was as if all his pent-up emotion erupted in that instant. "Yes! Finally!"

"Aaaah!" Bart shouted triumphantly.

"What's wrong, Bart? Are you okay?" his mother called, rushing in, worried.

"Mom, I'm fine. I'm great—actually, I feel amazing!"