Making Game: CH 146 – He's Not Heavy… (Patreon)

The early dawn of Leothon was filled with a frantic, buzzing commotion.

Vulpy, an LNN reporter who usually observed these tragedies from behind a lens, gently draped a thick thermal blanket over the shivering shoulders of the girls gathered outside the abandoned building. Local first responders were swarming the area, rushing toward the location after someone had anonymously made an emergency call.

As the paramedics hurried over to assess each girl, Vulpy offered a reassuring smile and nudged one of the younger captives forward. "There you go, no, no, go, they're here to help."

It was a jarring, surreal experience for her. It was the very first time she found herself among the casualties. She was actually being the victim today.

Suddenly, an aggressive local reporter shoved a microphone right into the face of one of the traumatized girls to ask something invasive. Vulpy's protective instincts flared instantly.

"HEY! HEY!" Vulpy yelled, shoving the microphone away. "She is still weak from malnutrition! Get out!"

As the reporter backed away, Vulpy felt a sudden, sickening realization wash over her. Was she exactly like that when chasing a scoop?

Vulpy caught a glimpse of her own reflection in a nearby medical transport window. It was then she realized how bruised, dirty, and disheveled she truly looked.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the male captives were escorted out of the basement. A line of nervous local police raised their photons. "Show us your hands!"

"Hey, hey, we are victims too, they kidnapped us!" a familiar, exhausted voice shouted from the group.

Vulpy recognized the tone instantly. It was the Kalamoran cameraman, her working partner. She immediately jogged over to the barricade to check on him.

"Are you alright?" Vulpy asked, looking over his iridescent, scale-like features.

The Kalamoran let out a heavy, tired breath. "Of course, how about you?"

"I am okay," Vulpy reassured him.

The cameraman rubbed his neck and sighed. "Next time, we wait for the higher up before going to the field."

…

While the survivors were being processed outside, a heavily armed tactical police squad moved inside to sweep the building. As they cleared the first couple of rooms, the officers were met with a chilling scene of systemic assassination.

People laid dead across the floor with expressions of pure shock frozen on their faces, having been eliminated entirely without resistance. The officer who led the sweep carefully checked every body. There was a single, precise lethal wound on every corpse and nothing wasted. It took just one cold weapon strike on an important part of the body and they were dead.

As they went deeper into the compound, they saw more and more casualties mirroring the exact same terrifying precision. One officer knelt beside a fallen guard. "Phantom class Solars," the officer deduced, recognizing the signature of infiltrators who actively bent the visible light spectrum to remain entirely undetected. "Could be loose wanted Solars."

Suddenly, a loud shout echoed from the lower levels. "Raise your hands where I can see them!"

Another squad had breached the holding area. It was the remaining syndicate grunts. The command to surrender was completely useless, because the grunts were firmly tied up by thick, unyielding layers of ice, ensuring they couldn't even raise their arms.

What the police saw next looked like a devastated battlefield. A bunch of dead bodies littered the hallway. The ones who weren't dead were trapped halfway inside blocks of solid ice. And the few who were still physically intact and alive clearly were not right in their minds. They stared blankly at the walls and drooled, acting as if they were completely empty of thoughts.

Further down the corridor, another officer peeked into the main basement chamber. "Uuhh sarge, you might wanna see this."

The sergeant walked over and stepped into the room. He froze.

The center of the room was a slaughterhouse. He saw a giant man, obviously a heavy-combat Solar, lying dead without a head and covered in a bunch of brutal tear marks. Scattered nearby were thousands of shattered ice chunks with bloody body parts frozen perfectly within them. And finally, resting near a massive, smoking impact hole in the wall, was a solitary pair of boots with a foot inside. There were no other body parts left to be found from that specific victim.

Several officers looked around the overwhelming, gruesome evidence. "We should call an Accord official."

The sergeant rubbed his eyes and let out a long, miserable sigh. He was already seeing the monumental amount of paperwork and the intense, suffocating investigation the Accord officials were about to make them do.

What kind of force could possibly decimate an entire underground syndicate so brutally and efficiently?

…

The crisp morning air of Friton was quiet and peaceful. Marcus was already out jogging. He always had a knack for things that were outside the standard curriculum. Keeping pace right beside him were his two loyal companions. 

His Arcanine, with its beautiful tiger-striped mane, trotted effortlessly to his left. On his right ran his Houndoom, the dark canine that had evolved while herding Muurbeasts and battling wild Pokémon around the fields.

As Marcus rounded the perimeter of the estate, he spotted a familiar silhouette descending from the sky. It was the Millennium Falcon, his brother's heavily modified, sleek starship. The vessel was making its way down into the cavernous, high-tech underground ship dock.

Marcus changed his direction. He called on his Arcanine and Houndoom, and the trio broke into a sprint toward the landing bay.

Down in the hangar, the boarding ramp of the ship slowly lowered. Marcus arrived just as the ramp hit the ground.

"Brother, where have you been?" Marcus asked.

Dorian stepped out of the ship. A tired smile spread across his face when he saw his brother waiting for him. Dorian had fully expected the rest of his family to still be sleeping soundly. It seemed Marcus really enjoyed his early morning jogs, running around the track just like he used to do for punishment back at the academy.

Dorian slowly walked down the ramp. "Good morning," he said softly.

Just as Dorian's boots touched the hangar floor, his knees buckled. The sheer physical and mental toll of clearing out the underground syndicate had completely drained his energy. He pitched forward, about to hit the metal grating.

Marcus moved with surprising speed. He caught Dorian firmly, easily supporting his older brother's weight.

"Whoa," Marcus said, his brow furrowing with concern. "You are working hard again."

Dorian let out a weak chuckle, leaning heavily against Marcus. "Yeah. Your Solar awakening test is in the next week, right?"

"Yeah, it is," Marcus replied smoothly. He adjusted his grip on Dorian. "Come, I will bring you home."

Dorian scoffed, shaking his head. "Hah! As if."

Before Dorian could even protest further, Marcus smoothly ducked down and hoisted his older brother directly onto his broad back.

"Whoa!" Dorian yelped in surprise, instinctively wrapping his arms loosely around Marcus's neck. "My Charizard can help me."

Marcus just adjusted Dorian's weight and began walking toward the elevator that led up to the mansion. "Don't worry about it, brother. You're home."

Dorian rested his chin on Marcus's shoulder. A wave of heavy sleepiness washed over him. He blinked his mismatched eyes, genuinely bewildered by the physical strength of the boy carrying him. 'Since when could his little brother carry him on his back?' Dorian realized Marcus had shot up like a weed over the years, growing much faster than he had ever realized.

Lulled by the steady pacing of Marcus's footsteps, Dorian's exhausted mind began to drift. His heavy eyelids fluttered shut. In his deeply tired state, the swaying motion dragged a specific memory to the forefront of his thoughts. He was reminded of the day Marcus was in trouble at school...

Back then, a lot of teachers simply marked Marcus as an unremarkable kid. One day, Dorian was called into the administrative office of Marcus's new school. They had been forced to transfer him since his last academy was too pricey at that time. The principal sat behind his desk and clearly expected to see John.

Dorian simply sat down and told the man he could wait for another month for that, as his father was still away mining.

The principal let out a tired sigh and informed Dorian that Marcus had thrown a learning puck at his friend in the middle of class. The man's tone sounded incredibly accusatory to Dorian. Knowing his sibling, Dorian refused to jump to any conclusions without seeing his brother first.

A few minutes later, Marcus walked into the office. Dorian looked at him and kept his voice gentle. "Tell me the truth. Did you throw this?"

Marcus silently shook his head.

"Then you need to speak up," Dorian encouraged him softly. "You need to defend yourself."

Marcus looked up and finally found his voice. "No. I didn't throw it."

Dorian nodded in complete understanding. He turned back to the principal and calmly stated that his brother didn't do it. The principal scoffed, then Dorian scoffed back, arguing that whoever actually did do it would blame it on the new kid.

Dorian leaned over and looked closely at the object resting on the desk. "Huh. A history puck."

"That is right," the principal confirmed.

Dorian nodded slowly. "Right. So you claim my brother stole this puck in the morning, because that's his schedule, and brought it to noon after break, just to throw it in the middle of class."

The principal crossed his arms defensively. "I don't claim to know what he was thinking."

Dorian pushed back, his analytical mind snapping into place. "Right. So the history teacher, Mr. Hilp right? Call him over."

"What for?" the principal asked.

Dorian took the puck from the desk. "Because if my brother stole this, then he went on five courses of class with a missing puck throughout the day."

The principal frowned. "Don't start, Mr. Kepler."

"Oh, but you started this," Dorian shot back, his voice hardening into cold steel. "Did you investigate the incident at all? At the very least, we should talk to Mr. Hilp about this."

The principal shifted uncomfortably in his chair and said the teacher had already left for the day.

"Then I will come back tomorrow," Dorian stated with absolute finality. "And I will question him, and anyone who had a print on that puck."

The principal grew visibly agitated. He quickly held up a hand and said no. He rapidly tapped his terminal, deleted the suspension notice, and declared there was nothing on Marcus's records.

Dorian narrowed his grey eyes. It was glaringly obvious that the incident connected to the so-called brilliant kid of the principal, and the man just wanted Marcus to quietly take the blame for it.

"Great. Then we will leave," Dorian said, standing up. He leaned in over the desk, staring directly into the administrator's eyes. "My brother is a good boy. A bright one… if you bothered to get to know him."

The memory slowly faded into the comfortable reality of the present.

Dorian smiled warmly against Marcus's back as he fully drifted to sleep. No matter how big his little brother become, in his eyes, Marcus will always be the little kid he carry on his back... Maybe this time around, they can switch place. Just for a while.

Unbeknownst to his sleeping older brother, Marcus glanced down and saw a speck of dark blood smeared across his brother hand. He just ignored it entirely.

A Golden Rock Guild guard patrolling the hangar walked over, noticing the sleeping young man. "Want us to help?" the guard offered kindly. "He seems heavy."

Marcus kept walking, followed closely by his loyal Arcanine and his newly evolved Houndoom. The teenager adjusted his grip and shook his head.

"He is not heavy," Marcus replied simply. "He is my brother."

…

Several weeks had passed since the underground raid. The shocking revelation of the Leothon trafficking ring failed to create much of a buzz outside of its local system. 

Space pirates and criminal syndicates operated as a grim, everyday reality on the edge of the Mid Rim and the Outer Rim. Sights of such operations were simply more common than most citizens cared to admit.

Dorian, fully embracing his role as Arthur, stayed entirely on track to finish the development of Monster Hunter. His mind often drifted back to the massive logistical puzzles of his upcoming projects. A sudden spark of excitement pierced through his fatigue whenever his thoughts drifted to the beast-hunting game.

Meanwhile, his musical persona was dominating galactic social conversations. Three out of the six nominees in the songwriting category for the upcoming Gilded Crescendo Awards were Percival. 

He had secured nominations across multiple other categories, ensuring the media spotlight remained blindingly focused on him. It was an incredibly bizarre problem, as Percival was essentially directly competing for galactic attention against himself. 

Just like usual, the masked composer never made a public statement, leaving the galactic net to debate endlessly among themselves.

@MelodyJunkie: Are we seeing this right? Percival holds half the nominations in a single category. The Gilded panel clearly gave up trying to search for other writers. LOL. 

@CoreWorld_Critic: It still shows a stagnation in the industry. If one masked ghost can monopolize the entire award show, what are the major record labels even doing with their trillions of credits? 

@Percival_Stan99: Cry harder! Percival earned every single one of those spots. The man drops masterpieces while everyone else drops manufactured plastic. 

@Void_Watcher: I find it hilarious that RTS just dropped a massive Pokémon update and Percival drops three chart-topping singles at the exact same time. I'm eating incredibly well this year. 

@MusicNerd88: At this rate, Percival is going to win six times in a row. They should just rename the category after him.

…

Inside the Round Table Studio headquarters, Arthur sat deep in concentration, monitoring the simulated players populating his beta server.

Logan shook his head in absolute disbelief. "This is crazy. The Clarent engine can handle five times the load of the market's standard multiplayer servers."

Arthur rubbed his chin, keeping his eyes on the data flow. "Still, there is more we can take from the Animus 2.0."

Bem leaned against the adjacent desk. "Well, we should take it one thing at a time, right? With this massive optimization update, surely we can officially label the Clarent as version 2.0."

Arthur chuckled softly. "No, let us just push this engine update as version 1.5."

Logan spun his stylus between his fingers. "If we were to rent this engine out to other studios, I can already see lines of developers trying to get a lease on it."

"Or trying to get it into their hands forcefully," Bem added, his tone carrying a note of protective caution.

Arthur simply smiled, entirely unfazed. "It doesn't matter. We made the engine to release our games ourselves so we can be entirely self-sufficient."

Bem and Logan nodded in firm agreement. The team operated as a completely unified front.

Logan shifted his posture, his expression turning highly sympathetic. "Ah, I read the news today. I am sorry about what happened to you, Art."

Arthur nodded slowly. The morning news cycles had finally released the gritty details regarding the fake Kepler heir, highlighting how the imposter had maliciously used the name of the Kepler-grade farm heir to bait young women into a trafficking ring.

"It is alright," Arthur replied calmly. "Things happen, I guess."

"Yeah," Bem agreed, crossing his arms. "That is incredibly messed up what he did."

Arthur offered a bright, genuine grin. "Hey, at least they know who the real one is now. Haha."

Logan and Bem chuckled, sharing his relief. Just then, a familiar, smooth voice echoed from the ceiling speakers.

"It is time for a break," Gawain announced politely. "Lunch is ready in the cafeteria."

⋘ 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒂.. .⋙

🎮:- Stardwey Valley: Completed.- Hades: Completed.- Pokémon: Completed.- Assassin Creed: Completed.- Monster Hunter: 53% █████▒▒▒▒▒

VR: - Sky: Children of the Light: Completed.- ???: ◌ Loading…

🎬:- Spirited Away: Completed.

♬:- Your Song – Elton John (ch.9)- A Lovely Night – La La Land (ch.20)- Merry Go Round of Life – Howl's Moving Castle (ch.25)- Small Fragile Hearts – Victor Lundberg (ch. 27)- Skyfall – Adele (ch. 29)- No Time To Die – Billie Eilish (ch. 30)- Yesterday – The Beatles (ch. 32)- Lovely – Billie Eilish, Khalid (ch. 47)- Best Part – H.E.R. feat. Daniel Caesar (ch. 67)- Lovely Day – Bill Withers (ch. 68)- My Song – Labi Siffre (ch. 75)- Isn't She Lovely – Stevie Wonder (ch. 89)- Gotta Catch 'Em All – Pokémon OST (ch. 90)- Don't Stop Me Now – Queens (ch. 102)- Grow As We Go – Ben Platt (ch. 102)- Feeling Good – Michael Bublé (ch. 104)- You'll Be In My Heart – Phil Collins (ch. 105)- We Will Rock You – Queen (ch. 108)- The Bones – Maren Morris feat. Hozier (ch. 110)- Achilles, Come Down – Gang Of Youths (ch. 111)- Wind of Change – Scorpions (ch. 113)- From The Start – Laufey (ch. 126)