Making Game: CH 159 – Cutting Rotting Tail (Patreon)

The aftermath of the Luprime expo is one hell of a show, and the galactic net had become an open stage for a news cycle that shifted almost hour by hour.

It started the morning the convention concluded. Investigative leaks flooded the regional feeds, reporting that researchers from the Ministry of Technology had actively orchestrated the abduction of RTS's lead programmer. 

The underlying cause was plain for the entire galaxy to see. The Caliburn VR seat had directly crossed paths with the Ministry's proprietary neural capsule. The Caliburn operated entirely without chemical injections, and that single advantage had turned the device into a commercial juggernaut, completely eclipsing the government project.

Then came the formal statement from the studio's verified public account. It officially confirmed that the victim of the failed abduction was indeed the developer known as Agravaine. Wild forum rumors solidified into an acknowledged reality overnight, sending discussion boards into an absolute frenzy.

On Friton, far away from the media storm, Logan Kim sat in the quiet comfort of his living room.

He glanced briefly over the sensational headlines displayed on his datapad, gave a quiet grunt, and set the tablet face down on the table. The middle-aged programmer had endured enough bureaucratic warfare in his past to let sensational articles trouble his peace. He was already looking forward to the next design, eager to dive into fresh code.

Logan slipped his audio headset off, placing it beside his workstation keyboard. He leaned back against the cushions and looked toward the dim corner near the bookshelf.

"Hey," Logan called out softly. "You want to head out?"

A faint ripple distorted the air near the ceiling molding. Misdreavus phased out of the shadows, its round, dark bluish body drifting down until it floated right in front of Logan's face. The crimson pearls around its neck gleamed in the morning sun, and its yellow eyes blinked with curious affection. It let out a pleasant, melodic chirp.

Logan smiled, resting his elbows on his knees. "How about a trip to the Niloini system? I heard through the local chatter that they are hosting a new festival."

Misdreavus tilted its head to the side, letting out an inquisitive trill as if asking what kind of festival it was.

Logan chuckled, a playful grin touching his lips. "The Festival of the Dead."

The little ghost let out a high-pitched cry of pure delight. It spun three rapid loops in midair, its smoky tresses fluttering behind it as it giggled with unrestrained excitement.

Watching a spectral creature celebrate the concept of a festival honoring the departed made Logan burst into laughter.

"Hahaha... Alright, settle down," Logan said, reaching for his outdoor coat. "Keep a low profile and follow me. I'll drop in the studio group chat to see if anyone else wants to join us."

Logan slipped into his jacket, pulled up his communicator, and started typing into the Round Table Studio staff channel to ask if anyone was free for a quick weekend excursion to Niloini.

The fact that Misdreavus could float openly inside his home was the direct result of the chaos on Luprime. After the abduction attempt, Arthur had found it impossible to conceal the existence of the creatures any longer. 

He had finally confessed that he had assigned ghost companions to watch over the employees from the shadows. Arthur had originally planned to wait until the Pokémon profile completion reward materialized so every team member could choose their own companion.

However, surviving the kidnapping attempt together had forged a deep, unspoken bond between the programmer and the little ghost. Logan had asked Arthur directly if he could keep Misdreavus by his side. To Arthur's surprise, Misdreavus had floated right onto Logan's shoulder, making it abundantly clear that it wanted to stay with him too.

In the end, Logan became the very first employee to officially receive a real companion. For the time being, he was the only person on the entire development team who knew that the digital monsters from their games were living, breathing creatures.

Logan knew this secret would ignite a storm of jealousy among the other developers once the truth came out, yet for now, he simply enjoyed the quiet companionship.

…

Three days after the Stellar Tech Expo concluded on Luprime, Dorian walked through the towering composite arches of the Apex Guild central headquarters.

As the recognized heir of one of the biggest guilds in the Accord, Juno had chosen to rotate through every major operational branch before settling into an executive post. Her first assignment placed her inside the mission liaison division, the massive administrative engine that processed contracts and coordinated field operatives across multiple star systems.

Dorian spotted her behind the long, curved reception counter. She wore thin, elegant glasses paired with a dark maroon guild uniform, complete with silver trim and the guild's crest pinned neatly above her lapel. 

A quiet, studious aura radiated from her posture. The free-spirited, windswept huntress he was used to had temporarily given way to a poised guild official. Dorian caught himself staring, feeling his pulse quicken. The sharp, professional look carried a distinct charm that suited her remarkably well.

Juno glanced up from her terminal, and the formal mask vanished in an instant. Her eyes lit up with pure delight. She tapped her assistant's shoulder to hand over the terminal, slipped out through the partition gate, and jogged across the polished floor.

"Dori!"

She leaped into his arms. Dorian caught her firmly by the waist, letting her momentum carry them into a quick spin before planting his feet. Juno pulled his face down and kissed him soundly on the lips, completely unbothered by the crowded lobby.

Dorian chuckled against her cheek as he set her down. "Congratulations on graduating, Lady Guildmaster."

Juno whispers close, smoothing her lapels. "Congratulations to your many personas as well."

Dozens of eyes lingered on them from every corner of the grand foyer. Junior desk clerks, heavily armored members, and clients whispered among themselves. The heiress of the legendary Apex Guild had an official partner, and the boy was Dorian Elias Kepler, the heir of Kepler Grade Foods Industries. It was an intriguing convergence of Solar powered prestige and booming commercial wealth, and the sight of them together provided endless gossip for all of them.

Juno intertwined her fingers with his and gently pulled him toward the corridor. "Come on. Let's walk for a bit."

They strolled through the wide promenades of the compound, taking the time to catch up on everything they had missed over the past several weeks. Dorian described the wild reception at the expo, the overwhelming demand for the Caliburn VR seats, and the upcoming pilot broadcast for the animated Pokémon series, which was slated to air within the month.

Juno shared stories from the academy's final commencement. She mentioned seeing Lyra and Marcus in the courtyard. Lyra had spent half the afternoon pouting with her arms crossed, grumbling that Dorian should have been in the procession with them, while Juno had defended his absence by pointing out that launching a galactic hardware revolution was a fair excuse to skip a ceremony.

Their walk brought them to the edge of the central training grounds. The facility resembled a massive planetary arena rather than a standard sparring courtyard. Far below, hovering heavy-lift repulsors were lowering iron cages into reinforced combat pits. Inside the containers, captured plasma beasts snapped their jaws against the energy bars, allowing rookie fighters to experience the killing intent of wild beasts under strictly supervised conditions.

Dorian leaned against the safety rail. "How does the guild manage to bring in creatures of that size?"

"Field requisitions," Juno explained, leaning beside him. "The liaison office issues capture bounties to seasoned rankers whenever the training grounds run low on live specimens."

Dorian smiled. "That sounds quite a bit like my game."

Juno reached up and tapped the tip of his nose with a playful finger. "It's very much like your game."

Dorian watched the dust billow in the pit below before turning to look at her. "How did the situation with the Luprime settle out?"

Juno paused, her expression shifting into a more measured calm. "There was some delicate administrative work involved. A bit of internal record adjustment, to put it plainly. We slipped a backdated operational ticket into the guild registry, making it appear as though an active Apex Solar had indeed been assigned to your perimeter on private security duties. The local authorities accepted the filing without a word."

Dorian gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Juno. Really."

Juno offered a soft smile, though a spark of amusement danced in her eyes. "You might want to save your gratitude. My aunt wants to see you."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Which aunt?"

"Aunt Victoria," Juno said.

Dorian blinked in surprise. "I thought Lady Victoria only handles matters strictly internal to the Park family."

Juno tilted her head, a sly grin spreading across her lips. "You're going to be a Park yourself before long, you know."

A sudden wave of warmth rushed up Dorian's neck, turning his cheeks a distinct shade of crimson. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, when you frame it like that, I suppose I really ought to pay my respects."

Juno laughed softly at his embarrassment, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Don't worry so much. Among all of my father's siblings, Aunt Victoria is easily the gentlest."

…

Another day slipped past, carrying with it the quiet passage of time out on the far rim of civilized space.

Deep within the rugged expanse of Planet Dagma, the sanctuary known as Asgard looked vastly different from the crude settlement it had once been. 

The compound had evolved into a formidable, permanent stronghold, built with strange, self-repairing masonry forged from the rich mineral deposits that Atum had brought up from the dark. The Mining Mastery had altered the very earth beneath their feet, coaxing ordinary dirt into yielding dense mineral clusters, gemstones, and pure metal ores as if the soil were bound to the logic of an alien garden. 

In the cavern pools below, Hapi's Fishing Mastery worked an identical wonder, allowing him to haul glistening, healthy catches from murky subterranean cisterns where no aquatic life had swum for generations.

Inside the quiet medical wing, Horus, Nehsy, and Hapi stood along the back wall with their arms crossed over their chests.

In the center of the room, resting on a reinforced slab, sat the crated Caliburn VR seat they had brought back from Luprime.

A field doctor affiliated with the revolutionaries leaned over the diagnostic access ports, running a portable sensor across the outer shell. Her spherical medical compadre hovered beside her ear, chiming with soft analytical frequencies as it measured the seat's resting neural feedback.

Hapi leaned closer to Horus, keeping his voice down to an urgent murmur. "What are you going to do about Atum?"

Horus kept his eyes on the technicians, though a heavy weariness settled behind his brow. He had gathered the High Priests the night he returned, laying out the entire truth without hiding a single detail.

Each of them had handled the revelation in their own way. Bennu, who held the Foraging Mastery, had absorbed the news in total silence. She packed a small satchel and walked out into the open barrens alone. For her, wandering the desolate valleys and gathering wild roots was the only way to quiet her spinning mind after learning that their divine savior had never existed. 

Hapi, whose Fishing Mastery kept their food supplies stable, had greeted the news with a gentle smile, accepting the reality with grace.

Atum had taken the news the hardest.

As the bearer of the Mining Mastery, Atum was the most devoted among them. He had spent countless hours swinging his pickaxe through the deep shafts, genuinely believing that every fleck of gold and every chunk of violet iridium was a sacred miracle placed there by Bepoo. 

When Horus played the recording of Arthur Pendragon speaking in that Luprime cafe, Atum flew into an uncontrollable rage. He swung wild fists at Horus, screaming that his own leader was a liar and a traitor. 

Even with the evidence playing before his eyes, Atum screamed that Arthur was an impostor, claiming the true Bepoo would never exist as a mortal youth from the core worlds.

In his fury, Atum had retreated into the lowest tunnels. Even now, some say his steady ringing of his pickaxe echoed faintly up to the surface.

Horus let out a slow, controlled breath. "The truth tore him apart, but it will set him free. I placed trusted sentries at the mouth of his shaft to deliver fresh water and rations every morning. They will make sure he stays safe while he works through his grief."

Nehsy lowered her head, staring at the floor. Hapi gave a firm nod, comforted to see their leader remain steadfast despite the turmoil shaking their inner circle.

A sharp electronic tone broke the quiet.

The field doctor pulled her scanner leads away from the Caliburn unit. Her compadre spun in a tight circle, projecting a dense cloud of biometric readouts, wave frequencies, and neural pathing matrices into the air between them.

The doctor froze. Her mouth fell open, her eyes wide as she scanned the scrolling telemetry.

"Impossible," she muttered under her breath.

Horus and the two priests stepped forward at once.

"How does it look?" Horus asked, his voice tight. "Can we use this hardware to pull Ula out of his nightmare?"

The doctor slowly turned around. Her face was pale with disbelief, yet a fierce, excited grin broke across her features.

"I have to contact main command immediately," she said, gesturing to her compadre to compile the data packets. "I need our best software engineers down here to fabricate external monitoring overrides."

She looked directly at Horus, shaking her head in stunned admiration.

"You have no idea what you managed to bring home, Horus. This machine will save Ula, and it has the power to heal thousands of broken minds across the entire universe."

…

Days passed, carrying the echoes of the Luprime expo into the outer reaches of the galaxy.

Deep within a dusty trade hub in a Mid Rim sector, Gale Vadran walked out of the local Apex Guild branch alongside nine-year-old Jess. They had just finalized the paperwork on a freshly accepted contract, locking the assignment into their shared guild ledger.

Jess lagged a step behind, her fingers rapidly tapping the glowing interface of her holographic wrist projector.

Suddenly, her eyes went wide. "What?!"

Gale stopped, turning back with a raised eyebrow. "What is it? What happened?"

Jess hurried up to him, thrusting her small wrist forward so the floating feed hovered right in front of his chest. "Round Table Studio just finished their showcase at the Stellar Tech Expo!"

Gale blinked in surprise, leaning down to read the scrolling holo-text. "They were exhibiting at the Stellar Expo?"

Jess puffed out her cheeks, crossing her arms in a fierce pout. "Yes! The article says they had exclusive merchandise, limited collector cases, and special physical albums. We missed the entire thing!"

Gale softened his expression, crouching slightly so they were eye to eye. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I had no idea they were attending the expo."

Jess stared at the glowing headlines for a few seconds longer, her pout slowly deflating into a quiet sigh. "It's fine. The guild mission comes first… I guess… It looks like they announced the booth after we had already departed."

Gale smiled, reaching out to gently ruffle her hair. "How about we take the long walk back to our starship? If we take our time, we can unlock the regional accessories for our Pokéggs."

Jess tilted her head, considering the offer with sharp scrutiny. "One condition. You have to carry me on your back the whole way."

Gale dropped down onto one knee, offering a broad grin. "Deal."

Jess let out a delighted giggle, climbed onto his back, and wrapped her arms securely around his neck. As Gale stood up and began their leisurely trek toward the landing pads, she kept her eyes glued to her Pokégg display, watching the local progress bar fill with a bright, satisfied smile.

…

Far away from the quiet frontier of the Mid Rim, the galactic net remained locked in a relentless storm of speculation. The attempted abduction of Agravaine sparked furious debates across every major news network, while technical communities dissected every leaked specification of the Caliburn VR seat and the Clarent Engine.

Behind tightly sealed doors, the real war was being fought in quiet conference rooms. The Ministry of Technology chose absolute public silence, attempting to weather the scrutiny by offering zero comment on the rumors.

Behind that wall of silence, the administrative pressure was immense. Raja had his work cut out for him, navigating a labyrinth of regulatory threats, subtle legal probes, and bureaucratic traps. An ordinary manager would have broken under the sheer weight of a core government ministry. 

Fortunately, Ratik stepped into the fray. Leveraging the vast resources, legal specialists, and media contacts accumulated across both the public Arthur Pendragon identity and the reclusive composer Percival, Ratik assembled an elite advisory team to back Raja in every negotiation.

The Caliburn seat stood firmly on its own undeniable superiority. Its non-invasive architecture made every argument the Ministry mounted look obsolete.

The final blow came when Raja closed an ironclad distribution and manufacturing agreement with Grokk Stonebeard. Stone Heart Heavy Industries officially announced their strategic partnership with Round Table Studio, pledging their massive orbital foundries and interstellar logistics networks to mass-distribute the Caliburn line.

That announcement completely destroyed any leverage the opposing faction possessed. Seeing an industrial titan like Grokk Stonebeard standing shoulder to shoulder with the studio, the senior directors within the Ministry recognized that Mizah's department was an absolute lost cause. Pouring more political capital into defending an injection-reliant capsule was suicide.

The Ministry moved swiftly in the dark. The entire experimental capsule department was dismantled and reshuffled, its staff scattered across other departments with demotion. Without a sound, the higher-ups severed their rotting tail to preserve the rest of the beast.

⋘ 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒂.. .⋙

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