webnovel

I Became the Tyrant of a Defense Game

[Tower Defense & Dungeon Attack RPG] I saw the ending to the game no one was able to clear. But, when I came to my senses, I was inside of the game. In fact, I was in the tutorial stage, a place where strategy was impossible. “I’ll clear this bullsh*t game no matter what…!” . . [This novel does not belong to me; all rights belong to its author. I merely upload it, and translation credits go to: MattReading.] Original Author: 류은가람 Official Page: https://m.series.naver.com/novel/detail.series?productNo=5904911

Zeom · ファンタジー
レビュー数が足りません
825 Chs

Chapter 1

"I fucking did it!"

Those words burst from my mouth, my arms jettisoning upwards in triumph.

'CLEAR' was the glaring message blazing across the computer screen in front of me.

I had triumphed over the ultimate trial in the game.

"Damn right! I fucking did it! I crushed this goddamn game!"

Overwhelmed, a single tear made its way down my face. Considering the brutal six months it took to conquer this game, I couldn't help but be overcome with emotion.

'Tower Defense & Dungeon Attack RPG, <Protect the Empire>'.

This was an old-school game, a classic that had stood the test of over 10 years.

In it, you drafted and trained heroes to protect the city, plunging headlong into the dungeons beyond to secure victory. All the while you're strategizing in a turn-based RPG.

You positioned your characters on the map and commanded them individually.

If a hero that you'd poured time and effort into was killed, they were gone for good, establishing the game's notorious difficulty.

The game was a global sensation in its prime, but now it's just an old classic. So why am I only now claiming victory?

Firstly, nobody had ever conquered it on the highest difficulty.

That difficulty, 'Hell', combined with 'Ironman' mode, where progress was saved automatically. This combination, known as 'Hell's Ironman', had remained unbeaten.

The game kept every player's victory data on its server and ranked it. However, 'Hell Ironman' had remained unbeaten.

Some had beaten the game on Legendary difficulty in Ironman mode, and others had turned off Ironman mode to beat Hell difficulty. But 'Hell's Ironman' had seen no victor until now.

But today, 10 years after the game was launched, a champion has emerged. Me!

Challenging the impossible is human instinct.

Like surmounting a peak that no one has yet scaled. So, I took it on.

And the second reason.

- Damn, RetroAddict finally did it.

- Congrats!!

- Lmao, gotta respect the persistence of the RetroAddict.

- First in the world, well done.

- Thanks for the grueling work over the past six months.

Chat messages came pouring into the chat window on a second monitor next to my game screen.

Seeing the chat log, I could only smile.

"I fucking told you all, didn't I? No matter how damn hard it is! Games are made to be beaten!"

I am a game streamer, specifically a streamer who plays challenging classic games. My ID is 'RetroAddict'.

As for the number of viewers, it's surprisingly large.

Nostalgia always draws a crowd. Watching a battle of high difficulty is always gripping content.

I typically pull in around 3,000 viewers, but as I approached the final stage, that number climbed past 10,000, and with the news of my victory, more viewers were flocking in.

['MissionFairy' has donated 100,000 Won!]

- You can brag all you want today. As promised, I'm sending the donation.

One by one, regular viewers who had pledged to donate upon my victory started to follow through.

['ShittyGameConnoisseur' has gifted 50,000 won!]

- Damn, now what am I supposed to watch for the next six months if you've already smashed it?

['BlackBox' has gifted 10,000 won!]

- Thought I was investing in a sure thing when I bet you couldn't beat the game... Damn, you played me.

['DogBarksAtBoringStreams' has gifted 30,000 won!]

- Can't bark at you today, good job.

"Ah, thanks everyone for the donations. I'll keep giving it my all!"

As the generosity flowed, I thanked my viewers, echoed their comments, and they responded with palpable joy, their chat messages ricocheting off each other.

The chat room was a party.

For the first time in a decade, a player had crushed a level no one else had. Could there be a more illustrious accomplishment for a gamer?

My viewers, having accompanied me on this odyssey, reveled in the victory as if it were their own.

- Such a damn shame the Holy Maiden fell in the final battle. She was only an R-grade, but she carried us all this way.

- He had no other choice... if he hadn't distracted the boss with the second squad, he wouldn't have even gotten this far.

- I yelled when the third squad got wiped out. They were a team of SSR heroes, his strongest, but they didn't make it.

- I was freaking out when everyone except our main man Lucas from the first squad bit the dust.

The viewers had become emotionally invested in the characters over the last half-year, and mourned those I lost in the final battle.

In this game, you "pull" and develop heroes using in-game currency.

Based on a combination of luck and grades, heroes are picked from categories such as SSR-SR-R-N and then cultivated.

Every viewer had a favorite, watching the stream through the lens of their chosen hero.

From the badass SSR-grade powerhouses to the N-grade underdogs who punched above their weight.

"In the end, they all fell..."

I allowed a wry smile. The sheer brutality of the game didn't afford progress without sacrifice.

Despite my best efforts to keep everyone alive until the final stage, all but the main character fell during the climactic boss battle.

Well, my objective wasn't everyone's survival, but reaching the ending...

- Hey, you freaking did it! You saved the empire!

- Here's the link to the moment our hero Lucas took down the boss solo >>here<<

- Holy shit, so epic... this is YouTube gold

- Now, that's a protagonist

I, too, clicked the linked video and rewatched the scene with my viewers.

Our hero Lucas, his blonde hair whipped back, swung his sword with lethal precision, and down fell the final boss, 'The Sleepless Lake Princess', once thought invincible.

When I exited the video and returned to the game, Lucas was still standing.

[LAST STAGE - CLEAR!]

[STAGE MVP - Lucas(SSR)]

Behind the victory screen that had rolled down.

In front of the felled boss, atop a heap of fallen comrades and enemies, Lucas stood, unflinching...

"..."

For some reason,

Though he was but a game character, he appeared strangely lonely.

[Achievement unlocked!]

[Hell difficulty & Iron mode conquered - 'Hell's Ironman']

[Special privileges granted for your accomplishment!]

[Calculating clear ranking....]

[Clear ranking updated!]

[World Ranking 1st - Player 'RetroAddict']

The rankings refreshed, and just as expected, I was number one on the global scoreboard. My viewers celebrated anew.

I quietly snapped a screenshot. Click!

Next, the ending cutscene kicked in and the credits began to roll. I made a point not to skip it. I wanted to bask in the moment.

- Shouldn't the game creators gift RetroAddict something?

About halfway through the credits, a viewer proposed.

- They set an unbeatable difficulty, and he showed them up. They owe him something

- Seriously, right?

- If it wasn't for RetroAddict, this game would never have been beaten~

- Is the game company still in business? Someone should drop them a line

I chuckled quietly.

"Nah, no need for the developers to gift me anything. Just sharing the fun with you all for the past six months was reward enough."

- But RetroAddict's eyes scream 'greed'

- He's playing coy, but this sneaky bastard would love a reward

- Hang on, did the company go under? There's no official website... did they flop?

- No new releases for a decade, they must be bust

- So, who's keeping the clear data servers up and running?

As my viewers speculated wildly, I stared at the dwindling roll of credits, relishing the moment.

The unique satisfaction of completing a game, a curious cocktail of achievement and a tinge of emptiness, filled me.

That's when it hit.

- Hello, RetroAddict. I'm the director of <Protect the Empire>.

Out of the blue, this message popped up in the chat.

The chat room exploded.

- What??? Is it legit???

- Come on, it's a scam. You lot are so gullible

- That user has been a regular viewer since he started playing Protect the Empire, could it be the actual director?

- Director, please launch Protect the Empire 2, we want to see RetroAddict squirm more!!!

Surprised, I checked the user's chat history.

They'd been tuning into my streams ever since I started playing <Protect the Empire> half a year back.

But they'd never posted anything until now.

And this person chose to break their silence right after I completed the Hell's Ironman difficulty.

- I need to thank you. Honestly, I had given up. I never thought anyone could do it.

The alleged director continued.

- But you did it, and I can't tell you how relieved I am. Thank you so much.

"No, um... you don't need to thank me..."

I awkwardly scratched the back of my head.

Whether or not this was the actual director, it felt nice. I never imagined I'd be thanked for beating a game.

- It gives me hope that there's still a chance for us.

"...?"

I blinked, puzzled.

Hope? What kind of absurdity was that?

Oh right, rumor had it that the company was broke. So, they were on the brink of giving up, but my relentless gameplay inspired them, was that the idea?

- You have proven your worth and capabilities. Please come to us and lend a hand.

"Um, well..."

Could they be working on a sequel to <Protect the Empire>? Do they need me to beta test it? Is that why they're extending an invitation to their studio?

Just as I was about to probe into the mysterious message.

'Huh?'

The world around me started to spin, everything blurred.

Must be dizziness from playing nonstop.

True, I hadn't eaten or had a drink since the final stage. It must've been a good few hours to clear.

The lights from the dual monitors scattered. The spinning wasn't just mild, it was downright violent.

The chatter in the chat box and the scrolling credits on the pitch-black screen meshed into one.

I must've overdone it. I was about to blackout while gaming.

Well, if I did faint, my viewers would likely dial 911 for me, right? With that comforting thought, I succumbed.

The last thing that grabbed my attention before everything went black was:

- Thank you for playing.

- Thank you for playing <Protect the Empire>.

That message marked the end of the credit roll.

And then, I descended into the void.