Eighty thousand replies in five minutes?
Gus Harper couldn't help but gape. Even for him, the reaction was wild.
He chuckled, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Seriously, people? It's just a terrain-based boss!"
Sure, mechanic-driven bosses weren't new, but Sekiro's Armored Knight was sneaky—its trick wasn't telegraphed, and the fight was a beast. Gus hadn't expected players to lose their minds like this.
Two hours after the "glitch" drama erupted, someone cracked it, but the sheer frenzy—80,000 comments—still floored him.
"Lemme see what they're saying," Gus said, snatching Kenji Higashida's phone. The top comments had him grinning:
"A mechanic boss in Sekiro? Bold move, WindyPeak, bold move."
"Ten tries to fill his posture bar, and it's a trick? Who designs this torture?!"
"This is straight-up sadistic!"
"I knew Sekiro was brutal, but Gus Harper sneaking in mechanics? Diabolical."
"I'd rather call it a glitch than admit I missed the trick."
"From invincible armor to yeeting him off a cliff—classic twist. Props."
Players weren't new to mechanic bosses. In other games, they were usually plot-driven, tied to story beats, and kept simple to let the narrative shine. Devs would nudge players with obvious hints—weak points, key areas, or even QTE prompts to mash buttons and win (looking easy in cutscenes, at least).
But Sekiro? Nah. It was a gauntlet. From the Moonview Tower to Summit Temple, every boss and elite was a nightmare. Players got conditioned to expect raw, unfiltered combat—no gimmicks. So when the Armored Knight, who didn't even seem like a major boss, pulled a mechanic, it broke their brains.
"Genichiro didn't need a trick, so why this guy?" one player groaned.
They'd underestimated Gus Harper's devious streak. Not only did he slap a mechanic on the Knight, but you had to brawl like hell to even trigger it. Players were pissed and impressed.
The Knight's design—unkillable armor, cliff-dive finish, and medieval vibe clashing with Sekiro's aesthetic—was a masterstroke. One comment nailed it: "It's an O. Henry twist—shocking but makes sense."
"After figuring it out, this boss is genius. Unexpected but fair."
"Robert's my favorite. That cliff scream for his son? Haunting."
"Wolf's Dragon's Legacy, Genichiro's loyalty, Robert's grit—everyone's just doomed by fate."
"Robert's up there with Genichiro for me. Iconic."
"Gus Harper's brain is a maze. How does he dream this up?"
"Bet there's crazier stuff coming."
"No way? Check Pew's stream! He's fighting a massive freaking snake in Collapse Valley!"
That comment sparked a flood of players sharing their wildest boss encounters across Sekiro's routes.
Collapse Valley: A Frozen Hell
Tuba and trombone rumbled, mixed with eerie drums. Collapse Valley, north of Ashina Castle, was a snow-choked abyss.
Pew, streaming on Twitch, swung through the cliffs like Ashina's Spider-Man, his breath fogging in the cold. The valley's haunting soundtrack—grand yet menacing—set the vibe. Jagged peaks loomed, and the abyss below whispered death.
Pew was hunting the Fragrant Water Lotus, a key ingredient for the Source Essence. The valley's stark beauty—snowy cliffs, twisted branches—felt freeing. He was vibing.
Until a minute ago.
Rumble.
The ground shook, like thunder or tectonic plates grinding. Snow slid from the peaks, nearly knocking Pew off his perch.
"Earthquake?" he muttered, heart racing.
He edged along a cliffside platform, peering toward the sound. One glance, and his blood froze.
A shadow slithered through the snow—a serpent as big as a mountain. Scales, each half a human's size, glinted. Cold, vertical pupils stared like twin voids. Its white body coiled along the cliffs, endless, its triangular head casting a shadow like a fortress.
Pew's jaw dropped. "This… this is a snake? No, a goddamn leviathan!"
Its tongue flicked, longer than a person, whipping like a godly lash. Pew, raised on Norse myths, had never grasped the scale of Jörmungandr—until now. This was the East's version, a colossus snaking through the valley.
And it was coming for him.
"What the hell, what the hell, WHAT THE HELL!" Pew's scalp prickled, goosebumps erupting.
Chat went feral:
"Holy—look at that thing!"
"That's a boss? No way you fight that!"
"White Snake God vibes."
"I'm shaking just watching. Pew's pod must be a panic zone."
"My heart rate's at 130 lol."
"This is a horror game now."
"Thought the Fire Bull was big. This is next-level."
Pew crouched in snowy reeds, holding his breath. The snake's tongue loomed, its bloody stench choking him like a fist. His heart pounded—150 BPM, pushing the IndieVibe X2's limits.
He couldn't take it. Edging away, he hoped to slip past.
But the reeds were tight. One step, and—[Danger].
Pew froze, looking up. The snake's eyes locked on him.
"Crap."
HISS—BOOM!
Fangs like spears plunged toward him. Pew dove into a cave, dodging by inches. Then he ran, screaming as the valley quaked. The snake chased, its tongue shattering cliffs, snow and rock flying.
Pew sprinted through the chaos, heart rate spiking, cabin on the verge of ejecting him. Chat screamed with him, blood pressure through the roof. This wasn't a boss—it was a catastrophe.
Bodhisattva Valley: Ape Horror
Delicate drums and chimes echoed like a cascading waterfall. Bodhisattva Valley, below Collapse Valley, bloomed green at its lower altitude. Four towering Bodhisattva statues guarded a waterfall said to pour from the Origin Temple, granting resurrection.
But Kazu Okura, perched on a statue's finger, knew better. That "gift" was a curse, turning people into puppets of the Dragon's Legacy.
He eyed a white water lily in the pool below—the Fragrant Water Lotus. Guarding it was a gray, lion-like ape, its bulk like a small mountain. A massive blade, long as a sapling, jutted from its neck. Infected by the Origin Temple's water, it was immortal.
Kazu exhaled shakily. "Here we go."
He leapt into the pool, splashing. The Lion Ape stirred, its towering frame radiating menace. Chat gasped:
"That size gap is insane!"
"What is this thing?"
"That neck blade is creepy as hell."
"Its face looks like a skull."
"I miss Genichiro."
"This is where Sekiro gets real."
BOOM! The ape slammed the water, charging. Its fist crashed down.
"Sack! SACK!" Kazu yelped.
Two hits maxed his posture bar. A sweeping slap sent him flying, half his health gone. The ape's wild, beastly attacks—lunging, clawing, chaotic—made it untouchable. Kazu felt like a ragdoll.
BOOM! He died without landing a hit.
The ape's raw power, speed, and randomness overwhelmed him. Its roars, paired with eerie strings and drums, frayed his nerves.
Five tries. Ten. Twenty. Kazu kept dying, fighting not just the ape but his own fear. Don't flinch. Don't freeze.
Firecrackers stunned it. Spears pierced. Ichimonji slashes chipped away. Finally, after relentless combos, the ape collapsed.
Now! Kazu leapt, twisting the blade in its neck.
CRUNCH! Blood sprayed. The ape's head rolled.
Chat erupted. Kazu, after two and a half hours, cheered, "YES!"
"Gotta snap a pic," he said, tweaking the cabin's screenshot tool.
But then—splash. Water surged behind him.
Kazu turned. The headless ape stood, blood gushing from its neck, vertebrae exposed. It held the blade in one hand, its severed head in the other. CLANG! It jammed the head back on, roaring a bloody shockwave.
Kazu's heart stopped. Chat screamed. The resurrected ape's grotesque design broke him—visually and mentally.
Mibu Village: Fog of Fear
Deep, haunting flutes filled Mibu Village, at Ashina's lowest point. Fog cloaked the swampy hamlet, its thatched huts decaying. Villagers shuffled, their faces hollow, eyes flashing red like the Red Devil.
"[Don't let them see you]," a dying old man had warned Leo Parker in a crumbling hut.
Mibu, furthest from the Origin Temple, was the only path to its fairy-tale heights. But the temple's water, once divine, turned rancid here, driving villagers mad. A noble, Kirigakure, played a warped flute tune, his red robe and gray skin barely human. Four octopus-like tentacles writhed beneath.
"Squidward?!" Leo laughed nervously. "Flute, tentacles—case closed!"
Chat buzzed:
"Detective Leo!"
"Normal-sized boss? Rare in Sekiro."
"This guy's gotta be the area's big bad."
"Buff up, Leo! Test his moves."
"Chief strategist of Twitch, appointed."
Leo chugged every buff—fire resistance, poison resistance, fear resistance, persimmons, five-color rice, attack candy, Ironclad Boost—and enchanted Wedge with Divine Snow. All in.
He leapt from a beam, stabbing Kirigakure's back. SPLASH! Blood sprayed, but Leo didn't linger, dodging and readying for a counter.
Kirigakure turned slowly, unfazed, pulling a golden hairpin. His calm aura screamed danger.
Leo tensed. This wasn't gonna be easy.