Making Game: CH 134 – Étoile d'Or (Patreon)

The grand press conference hall of the Cyris Orbital Station was in absolute, chaotic full swing.

The flashes of hundreds of holographic cameras illuminated the massive auditorium like a localized meteor shower. Journalists, critics, and industry titans were practically climbing over each other to get a prime seat for the final session of the day. And the reason Spirited Away was the very last film on the schedule was simple: it had just won the Étoile d'Or.

The highest, most prestigious grand award for Best Feature Film of the festival.

Because of that gleaming golden statuette, a ravenous swarm of distributors, studio executives, and media sharks were currently circling the previously unknown 'Lady in the Lake Productions', desperate to secure the theatrical rights.

But tucked safely away from the madness, inside the soundproof green room, the enigmatic director was casually checking his reflection in the mirror.

Dorian Kepler had the [Profile: Prince of the Underworld] fully equipped.

His usual, unassuming features had flawlessly shifted into the striking, undeniably charismatic visage of Zagreus. His skin was paler, his jawline sharper, and his hair was a messy, stylized mop of dark locks. He even retained the signature heterochromia; one eye a piercing, vibrant red, and the other a deep, bottomless green.

Raja Farzir, leaning against the vanity table, let out a long, exhausted sigh. He rubbed his temples as he looked at his CEO's completely new face. "Your 'Irregular' type powers are getting stranger by the day, you know that, right?"

Dorian smiled, his mismatched eyes curving slightly as he offered a casual shrug. "Just because I can change my appearance like some of the high-tier Scout Paths can, doesn't mean I can do everything else they do, Raja."

Raja shook his head, looking back down at his glowing datapad. "Still, it is neat. There aren't many branches in Scout's path in the entire Accord who can manipulate ambient light to distort their physical features as flawlessly as you do."

Dorian just maintained his easygoing smile, fully knowing the truth. His System equipment was vastly more powerful than any standard Solar branch ability. From his previous research into the Accord's military curriculum, he knew that elite Scouts could bend light to turn invisible or create blurry illusions of other people. But Dorian’s system wasn't creating an illusion. The Hades profile was actively, physically changing him into the protagonist of the game he had published.

"How much longer?" Dorian asked, adjusting the cuffs of his sleek, dark crimson suit.

Raja stepped toward the heavy soundproof door, cracking it open slightly to speak with the Cyris runner waiting in the hallway. He closed it a second later. "Five more minutes until they call you out."

"How are you holding up?" Dorian asked, turning to face his PR Manager. "Did you manage to sort through the distribution offers?"

Raja paused, his fingers hovering over his datapad. His professional facade cracked slightly, revealing a hint of lingering frustration. "Some of the established distributors still look down on us, Arthur. Even after watching the film, a few of the big-name studio executives genuinely had the audacity to tell me that it should be our honor to have them handle our 'little cartoon'."

Dorian's mismatched eyes narrowed slightly. "But?"

"But," Raja continued, his tone softening, "a few of them seemed to genuinely want to talk about the art. They actually understood the film."

"Were any of the genuine ones from the big distributors?" Dorian asked.

Raja shook his head. "No. Mostly mid-sized to small independent houses. But to be fair, all of these initial talks happened before they announced that we won the Étoile d'Or. With this golden trophy on our resume, I can easily go back out there and force the big distributors to bow to our terms."

"No need," Dorian stated firmly, waving a hand. "I want sincerity, Raja. If the big houses only want us because of the shiny trophy, they will drop us the second a project underperforms. We can grow together with the small or mid-sized ones. Find the distributors who actually respect the medium."

Raja’s lips curled into a proud, deeply respectful smile. He immediately began tapping on his screen, rapidly filtering the massive list of studio offers down to Dorian's exact criteria.

As Dorian watched the impeccably dressed manager effortlessly handle the galactic logistics of his new movie, a wave of immense gratitude washed over him.

"Thanks, Raja," Dorian said softly.

Raja paused his typing, glancing up with a raised eyebrow. "For what?"

"For helping me with the film," Dorian smiled. "You're supposed to be the PR Manager for a video game studio, and I dragged you all the way out here into the shark tank of high cinema."

Raja fully lowered his datapad. He looked Dorian directly in the eye, his expression shifting into one of absolute, unshakable loyalty. "I was hired to help Arthur Pendragon," Raja said smoothly. "If you suddenly decide to step into the music industry tomorrow, I will happily help you take down Composer Percival if I have to."

Dorian had to bite his lip incredibly hard to suppress the sudden, violent urge to burst into laughter. The sheer, beautiful irony of his manager confidently offering to assassinate his own musical alter-ego was almost too much to handle.

"I... I won't tell Ratik," Dorian managed to say, chuckling warmly. "I'll take those words to mean that you won't be leaving my side anytime soon, then."

"Heh," Raja smirked, adjusting his tie. "They couldn't afford me anyway."

Dorian raised an eyebrow playfully. "The big Core World studios have way more money than I do, you know."

Raja paused. His smirk softened into a genuine, quiet smile. "I'm not talking about money, Arthur."

Before Dorian could fully process the weight of the compliment, a sharp, rapid knock echoed through the room. The door opened, and the breathless Cyris runner peeked her head inside.

"Director Arthur Pendragon?" she called out nervously, her eyes widening slightly as she took in Dorian's striking Zagreus profile. "The grand table is set. They are ready for you."

Dorian rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight of what he was about to do. He stood up tall, his fiery red and green eyes locking onto Raja.

"Shall we go get 'em?" Dorian asked, a confident, wolfish grin spreading across his face.

Raja slipped his datapad into his suit jacket and stepped up beside him.

"Gotta catch 'em all, right?" Raja replied smoothly.

They both shared a wide, knowing smile, sharing a quiet chuckle as the doors opened wide, and the two men took their first steps together toward the blinding lights of the galactic stage.

…

A few hours later, inside a suite on the Cyris Orbital Station, the atmosphere was considerably less professional.

"What exactly did you say about Composer Percival, huh?!" Ratik demanded.

The fierce music manager was currently aggressively squishing and pinching Raja Farzir’s blue cheeks. The usually perfectly composed PR Manager had entirely given up the thought of dodging his senior, allowing her to stretch his sensory vanes in exasperation.

"Arthur, you explicitly promised me you wouldn't tattletale!" Raja groaned, his voice muffled by Ratik's hands.

Dorian, now completely back in his normal, unassuming teenage form having unequipped the Zagreus profile, was rolling around on the massive king-sized bed in absolute hysterics.

"Hahahaha! Arthur didn't say a word, I swear!" Dorian laughed, clutching his stomach. "It's your own fault, Raja! You literally offered to assassinate Percival right to his face!"

The hotel suite was brightly lit. Sitting right in the center of the glass coffee table, catching the light like a miniature sun, was the Étoile d'Or.

Ratik finally let go of Raja's face. She smoothed out her pristine suit, walking over to the table and looking down at the massive, golden star trophy.

"Well," Ratik noted, a proud, satisfied smile crossing her face. "I suppose it's just another collection to add to your endless rows of Gilded Crescendos, Dorian."

Dorian sat up on the bed, leaning back on his hands. "As the old man Gil says... they are all just tacky ornaments."

Ratik paused, raising a sharp eyebrow at him. "So, you're telling me you won't still brag about winning the award on your very first try?"

Dorian smirked brightly. "Oh, absolutely I will."

A warm wave of laughter filled the room.

…

Meanwhile, outside the insulated bubble of their hotel suite, the raw footage of the Cyris press conference finally began to surface. It was first uploaded by the handful of internet critics and Stellarcasters who had managed to squeeze their way into the room, bypassing the strict corporate embargoes.

The footage started with the grand announcer standing at the podium, officially declaring the title of the winning film: Spirited Away.

Then, walking into the frame was a deep azure-blue Qerrian in an immaculate suit. To the elite film industry, he was known simply as the elusive, highly professional sole contact for 'Lady in the Lake Productions'. To the gaming industry, however, he was known as the Executioner, the terrifyingly efficient butcher who had ruthlessly drained the credits out of many AAA studios in waves of legal battles.

Raja took his seat.

And then, another figure walked onto the stage.

The audience gasped. First impressions hit the camera instantly: Young. Handsome. Confident. He wore a dark crimson suit that seemed perfectly tailored to his sharp physique. Resting gracefully in his messy, dark locks was a subtle, intricately woven red laurel. One eye was piercing red, the other a deep, vibrant green.

Flashes upon flashes of holographic cameras aggressively fired, bathing the stage in blinding white light. He walked with a completely steady step, effortlessly holding the heavy golden Étoile d'Or award in his hand. He took his seat at the center of the table.

Arthur Pendragon. The man, the myth, the legend.

He smoothly adjusted the microphone, leaning in with a calm, wolfish smile.

"We may begin."

The moment the words left his mouth, the press room erupted into pure, unadulterated pandemonium. Dozens of hands shot into the air, with countless veteran critics and desperate journalists shouting over each other, desperately trying to get the first question in.

The footage immediately began to spread across the net like a hyper-virus. Naturally, within minutes, the high-definition video was ripped and directly reuploaded to the front page of the Avalon forums.

…

[Thread: ARTHUR PENDRAGON REVEAL! HE IS REAL! AND HE JUST CONQUERED CINEMA!]> Mod_Vanguard: Our CEO is officially out here making the gaming industry be taken seriously in the eyes of the normies. Look at the absolute drip on this man! (Attached Image: A high-res screenshot of Arthur adjusting his mic, the red laurel and heterochromia perfectly visible.)

The reaction from the gaming community was absolutely explosive. Unlike Composer Percival, who rigidly maintained his mask and his anonymity, Arthur Pendragon had finally, officially revealed himself to the universe.

> SpeedDemon: BRO WHAT?! HE IS SO YOUNG! HOW DOES HE HAVE SO MUCH TIME TO MADE EVERYTHING?! 

> ArtBrat99: I TOLD YOU GUYS HE WOULD BE HANDSOME! LOOK AT HIM! THE RED SUIT?! THE DRIP IS IMMACULATE! 

> DownBad_99: Honestly... would. 

> GamerGirl22: I was imagining him a bit cuter, maybe with glasses and a slouch, tbh. This dude looks like he could beat my boyfriend up AND steal me. 

> LoreNerd99: Guys... wait a minute. Look closely at the photo. Is it just me... or does Arthur look exactly like Zagreus? Look at the eyes. Red and green. 

> PixelPlower: Oh my stars, HE IS. The laurel! The colors! He literally cosplayed as his own game protagonist to a press conference!

> Cynic_Gamer: Eeehhhh kinda? Idk man, seems like a stretch. 

> Cosplay_Queen: Guys, there is this thing called makeup and spray contacts lmao. He definitely dressed up as Zagreus on purpose. It's a massive flex on the film industry. He is reminding them exactly where he came from: a game CEO. 

> Void_Watcher: ALL HAIL THE PRINCE OF THE UNDERWORLD! ALL HAIL ARTHUR PENDRAGON!

…

Weeks passed, and the dust from the Cyris Film Festival finally began to settle.

Outside the towering, opulent glass facade of the Grand Sela Hotel, Elah Tan stood frozen, gripping her datapad so tightly her knuckles were white. Standing right beside her was her younger brother, Vond Tan, who served as the Vice President of NovaFrame Pictures.

Elah was practically vibrating with excitement and nervous energy. Vond, on the other hand, was physically shaking all over, his complexion a pale, sickly green.

"Sis," Vond groaned, holding his stomach. "I think that synth-lompyra I ate for breakfast went down the wrong way. I need to find a restroom."

Elah didn't even look at him. She just reached over and firmly smacked him on the back. "That is just your cowardice talking, Vond. Stand up straight. Don't worry, it absolutely won't be our first time getting rejected by a visionary."

Vond let out a miserable sigh. "That is not reassuring at all, Elah."

Taking a deep breath, the two siblings walked through the sliding glass doors into the main lobby. They approached the concierge desk.

"Excuse me," Elah said politely. "We have an appointment. Private Meeting Room 001, please."

The human receptionist glanced at her screen, her eyes briefly widening before returning to a flawless professional mask. "Ah, yes. Ms. Tan. Right this way. Please follow me."

As they followed the receptionist across the sprawling marble floor, Vond leaned in and whispered frantically to his sister. "Why is the receptionist leading us? There are literally dozens of service Compadre units hovering around."

"Shhh," Elah hissed quietly. "Let's not worry about the hotel staff right now. Focus on the numbers."

They were led to an exclusive VIP elevator. Seconds later, they arrived on the top floor of the hotel. The receptionist bowed and gestured toward a set of heavy mahogany doors.

Elah smoothed out her suit jacket, took one final breath, and opened the door.

Sitting comfortably at the end of a long, polished obsidian conference table was the man himself. Arthur Pendragon. And standing stoically beside him was the deep azure-blue Qerrian, Raja Farzir.

"Ah, the President of NovaFrame," Arthur said, standing up and offering a warm, surprisingly grounded smile.

Elah and Vond took their seats, reaching across the table to shake hands.

"Thank you so much for flying all the way out to Sela to meet with us," Arthur continued, gesturing for them to relax.

"Thank you for opening your time for us, Director," Elah smiled back, desperately trying to hide how starstruck she truly was.

"Well," Arthur said, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together. "Shall we get down to business?"

Elah’s polite, nervous smile instantly vanished, replaced by the fierce, unyielding determination of a cornered studio executive. "We would love to."

She gave a sharp nod to Vond. When it came to the soul and the art of cinema, Elah was the undisputed master. But when it came to numbers, gross revenue calculations, and ironclad legal contracts, her brother was a savant.

Vond swallowed his nausea, pulled a sleek holographic puck from his pocket, and placed it firmly in the center of the table. The device hummed, projecting a dense, glowing web of financial data, distribution models, and royalty splits.

"Director Pendragon," Vond began, his voice surprisingly steady now that he was in his element. "NovaFrame Pictures is prepared to offer Lady in the Lake Productions a creator-first distribution model. We are offering an eighty-twenty gross revenue split in your favor. Furthermore, we are formally waiving all rights to sequel production, merchandising, and secondary streaming distribution. You retain most of your intellectual property."

Raja raised an eyebrow. That was an incredibly generous offer. The standard AAA studio split was usually sixty-forty in favor of the distributor, and they almost always demanded the merchandising rights as collateral.

"We are also prepared to guarantee an exclusive, uninterrupted four-week theatrical run across our entire partnered theater network," Vond continued, swiping the hologram to display a massive list of prestigious cinemas. "During this period, Spirited Away will be the premier feature. We will not undercut your screen time with any of our other releases."

Arthur looked at the projection, genuinely impressed. He could clearly see the sincerity in their offer. They genuinely wanted the movie to succeed.

"The terms are excellent," Arthur acknowledged smoothly. "I really only have one non-negotiable demand. And it is the same demand I have given to other studios who tried to court us earlier this week."

Elah leaned forward. "Name it."

"You cannot, under any circumstances, cut the runtime of the film," Arthur stated firmly. "No trimming scenes to fit more screening slots into a single day. The silent train sequence stays exactly as it is."

Elah’s heart soared. It was precisely that kind of stubborn, artistic integrity that she admired so deeply.

"Agreed," Elah said immediately without even looking at Vond for financial confirmation. "We would never dream of altering a single frame. It is a masterpiece."

Arthur smiled. "Then we are mostly aligned. However... I do have to ask about your physical capability, Ms. Tan."

The warm atmosphere in the room suddenly turned a bit cold and awkward.

Arthur tapped the edge of the table. "You are a mid-sized studio. The big-name houses have practically unlimited reach. What is NovaFrame's actual distribution scale?"

Elah slowly closed her eyes. She gave Vond a subtle, heavy nod, signaling him to tell the absolute, unvarnished truth.

Vond’s hands began to shake slightly again. He manipulated the holo-puck, projecting a massive, sprawling map of the Stellar Accord galaxy.

"Our primary distribution scale covers the Core Worlds and the vast majority of the Mid Rim," Vond explained nervously, highlighting the center systems in a bright, healthy green. "Because those sectors have constant, incredibly stable Plasm Network connections, establishing synchronized global releases is inevitably easy."

Then, Vond swiped his hand. The massive, sprawling outer edges of the galactic map, the vast, uncharted territories of the working class glowed a dull, unlinked red.

"The problem," Vond admitted quietly, "is the Outer Rim. In terms of raw numbers, the vast majority of the galaxy's population lives out there. But the digital reach is heavily limited. They don't have stable connections. They rely almost entirely on fragmented, localized planetary networks. To distribute a high-fidelity film out there, a company has to physically fly heavy data-couriers to the planets, negotiate with local theater barons on the ground, and manually handshake the servers."

Vond lowered his head, the holographic light reflecting off his glasses. "As a mid-level distributor... NovaFrame simply does not have the massive naval fleet or the localized manpower to effectively penetrate the Outer Rim. A massive studio could reach them in days. We... we cannot guarantee a wide release out there."

Arthur leaned back heavily in his chair, steepling his fingers. He frowned, deeply second-guessing his earlier confidence.

His entire, overarching goal with Round Table Studio, and now this movie, was to reach the everyday people. He wanted the tired plasma miners on Mord Tida, the overworked students in the lower ecumenopolis, and the isolated families on the fringes to experience Chihiro's journey. If he officially signed with NovaFrame, he would essentially be locking millions of working-class people out of the theater.

The silence stretched on, suffocating and incredibly heavy.

Arthur took a deep, measured breath, his golden eyes filled with polite regret. He prepared to deliver the corporate rejection. "I appreciate your honesty, Vond. Truly. The financial offer is incredibly generous, but the raw reach of the film is my primary concern. We will think about it, but–"

"Please, Director!"

Elah Tan violently stood up from her chair, her hands slamming down onto the obsidian table. The sudden outburst caused Vond to physically flinch, nearly knocking the holographic puck off the table.

Elah stared directly into Arthur’s mismatch eyes, her chest heaving as she threw complete corporate professionalism out the window.

"The bigger distributors may have massive naval fleets at their disposal," Elah stated fiercely, her voice trembling with raw conviction. "They have the billions of credits required to instantly print and ship physical data-drives. But there is one thing I can absolutely promise you with our current capability. If you give us this film... we will reach out to every single system in the Core and the Mid Rim. Every. Single. One."

The bold declaration caused Raja's blue sensory vanes to twitch in absolute shock. Even Arthur’s eyes widened.

In the cinematic distribution industry, an 'all-system' release was unpractical. Reaching every system meant deliberately establishing network nodes in the absolute poorest, lowest-income sectors of the galaxy. It meant broadcasting to the smog-choked lower levels of Nexus Prime, and sending encrypted film keys to the isolated, grueling plasma-mining colonies.

It was a logistical nightmare that yielded absolutely zero profit.

But Elah didn't know that she had just offered Arthur the greatest treasure in the universe. What Arthur desperately wanted wasn't credits. It was reach. Just from the few hundred people watching the premiere at the Cyris Festival, his System's Resonance points had noticeably jumped. If he could secure a galaxy-wide release, combining the emotional impact of the film with Percival's legendary musical score, his Resonance would shatter entirely new ceilings.

Arthur leaned forward, his hands folded over his mouth. "Ms. Tan... are you seriously saying you will distribute this film to the minor, working-class systems?"

Elah nodded firmly, refusing to break eye contact.

"I have to," Elah said, her voice softening into a passionate, desperate plea. "Director Pendragon, the galaxy is tired. People are being worked to the bone by a suffocating, corporate machine. They are emotionally exhausted, and the high-society elites only ever feed them mindless, explosive blockbusters to pacify them. But Spirited Away... your film... it gives people the space to breathe. It gives them permission to cry, to reflect, and to heal. It is a masterpiece. And I refuse to let a masterpiece be locked away in the premium theaters of the Core Worlds. The everyday people need to see this movie."

Elah took a deep breath, doubling down on her reckless gamble. "And matter of fact, once the digital theatrical run is complete... we will personally distribute the physical copies to the Outer Rim ourselves."

Beside her, Vond’s head violently snapped up. "We will?!" he whispered in a high-pitched, panicked squeak.

Elah leaned down, aggressively whispering out of the side of her mouth. "We can take out a bank loan."

"How do we physically transport them to the Outer Rim?!" Vond hissed back, his face turning an even paler shade of green. "We barely own a fleet of freighters!"

"We will just hire a mercenary transport guild," Elah whispered back stubbornly.

Hearing that, Vond clutched his stomach, looking like he genuinely wanted to pass out right there on the floor.

Unbeknownst to the siblings, Arthur had enhanced senses. He heard every single word of their panicked, hushed argument.

Arthur couldn't help it. He burst into a warm, genuine smile. They were completely reckless, horribly underfunded, and entirely driven by pure, unadulterated passion. They reminded him exactly of himself when he first started Round Table Studio.

Elah stood up straight, regaining her composure. "But... if we are going to bankrupt ourselves to do this, I have one condition."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I want the exclusive distribution rights to your next piece of media," Elah demanded.

Arthur’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. "We haven't even signed the deal on this one yet. Are you even sure I will make another movie?"

Elah smiled, a knowing, profound look in her eyes. "I know true passion when I see it, Arthur. I have done my research on you. Your games... they possess such incredibly deep lore. They are a bottomless well of storytelling. Someone who creates that kind of art will not stop until every single thing inside their head has been realized."

Arthur sat silently, completely taken aback by how accurately she had read him.

She was right. His Mnemonic Echo was an endless vault. Through the absolute darkest, most grueling years of his life, when he was just a terrified kid forced to become the head of the house to take care of Lyra and Marcus, it had been the replays of movies, games, and songs echoing in his mind that had kept him sane. They had given him hope.

'I guess, in a way,' Arthur thought fondly, 'I just want others to feel what I felt.'

Arthur made up his mind. He stood up from his chair and extended his hand across the obsidian table.

"Fifty-fifty," Arthur declared smoothly.

Vond blinked, his jaw dropping. "W-What? But we offered you eighty percent–"

"I don't want eighty percent," Arthur smiled gently. "You are going to need those extra credits to secure those transport guild contracts and keep your company afloat. I want you to expand, Ms. Tan. I want us to build this future together. We can talk more about the logistical details... maybe over dinner?"

Elah Tan’s eyes instantly went glassy. A massive, tearful smile broke across her face as she realized that she hadn't just saved her company; she had just partnered with the greatest visionary of the era.

She reached across the table, firmly grasping Arthur's hand to seal the deal.

"Please," Elah laughed through her tears, "take care of us, Director."

Arthur smiled warmly, shaking her hand. "Take care of me too."