Making Game: CH 160 – Blinding Information (Patreon)

The internal purge of the experimental capsule division moved with eerie, surgical efficiency. Those who had held key positions accepted their sudden reassignments and deep demotions without a single word of protest.

They packed their personal belongings with placid, vacant expressions, carrying themselves as though the entire scandal on Luprime had simply never taken place.

There was only one left.

Two Legionnaires hauled Mizah down the subterranean corridor, her boots scraping uselessly against the metal floor plating. Her voice was shrill, cracking with frantic terror.

"It was not my fault! The director gave me the encrypted frequency himself! He told me to reach out to the shadow syndicate! I only followed the orders I was handed!"

The guards ignored her desperate pleas. They pushed through a heavy blast door and dragged her into a stark, windowless examination room.

In the center of the floor stood an operational capsule, though it looked radically stripped down compared to the demonstration models displayed at the expo. There was no polished outer chassis, no sleek protective canopy, and no ergonomic padding. It was a raw, functional scaffold of bare durasteel, surrounded by thick hydraulic conduits and auxiliary control units she had never seen in any public design file.

The Legionnaires shoved her onto the frame, locking magnetic cuffs around her wrists and ankles before she could pull away. The chamber seals engaged with a heavy pneumatic hiss. Mizah thrashed against the metal restraints, tears cutting dark tracks through the grime on her cheeks as she screamed at the ceiling.

A moment later, the access door hissed open.

An officer in the crisp grey uniform of the BSO stepped into the room. She reached up with a practiced motion, unclasped her black and red half-cape, and draped it neatly over the back of a diagnostic stool.

She turned to face the platform. "Obey and Prosper. I'm Captain Verza Zal."

Mizah stared at the insignia on the woman's collar, her eyes wide with terror. "Please, Captain! Let me out of here! I'm a licensed researcher! I only did what the department head told me to do! He insisted that we needed leverage against RTS, and he even arranged the contact with the shadow guild! I still have the comm codes! You can verify them right now!"

Verza smiled faintly. "Those operatives were scrubbed from the board hours ago. As for you, I personally requested this assignment. Do you know why someone of my rank came all the way down here?"

Mizah shook her head frantically, pressing her shoulders flat against the metal frame.

Verza walked to the edge of the platform and leaned down, her eyes narrowing with quiet amusement. "Because you chose to tamper with my hobby."

Mizah froze. Her thoughts spun in a frantic, dizzying spiral. She could not comprehend the reality in front of her. Her entire life had collapsed, escalating into a high-level security containment, simply because an elite Bureau captain enjoyed video games in her spare time.

Verza chuckled softly at the disbelief on the woman's face. "You will be reshuffled cleanly back into the fold. Don't worry so much. You should actually be quite proud."

Mizah caught the word, grasping at it like a lifeline. "Really? You are letting me return?"

"Really," Verza answered smoothly.

Mizah swallowed hard, her chest heaving. "Then why am I strapped into this machine?"

Verza tapped the bare composite ring mounted beside Mizah's temples. "Do you truly not recognize the foundation you are resting on? This is the very neural capsule your own department spent years developing."

Verza glanced toward the observation mirror set into the reinforced wall and gave a curt nod.

"You should take comfort in knowing your division accomplished its purpose," Verza added. "The work was effective enough that the state has no intention of letting your result go to waste."

The side hatch slid back with a quiet hum.

Another figure walked into the sterile light. The blind Qerrian moved with steady, deliberate grace, her face unreadable beneath her leather mask.

Mizah gasped, her voice trembling with sudden recognition. "Se–Senior? Senior Eevlas! It is me, Mizah!"

Eevlas Zin did not acknowledge the cry. She walked straight to the primary control pedestal beside the platform, her hands moving across the interface switches with cold familiarity. She retrieved a pressurized glass canister filled with dense, amber fluid and locked it into the auxiliary manifold.

The hydraulic lines pulsed as the chemical cocktail surged toward the delivery lines.

"You will become a brand new person shortly," Eevlas said softly, her unseeing eyes fixed on the empty air ahead. "Loyal. Smarter… Better."

She gripped the master engagement lever and slid it forward.

The auxiliary turbines whirred into a deafening, high-pitched scream.

Mizah let out a piercing shriek as the pneumatic needles sank deep into the base of her skull.

Eevlas stepped back from the shaking console, her expression smooth and entirely untroubled.

"See you later, Mizah."

…

"Gaaah!"

Logan jerked upright in his bed, his lungs seizing as if he were still drowning in freezing water.

Cold sweat drenched his collar, plastering his hair to his forehead. His fingers dug frantically into the mattress, checking the texture of the sheets, desperate for tactile confirmation that he was sitting on solid ground. 

For several frantic heartbeats, the phantom weight of the void pressed down on his chest. He could still feel the suffocating emptiness of that assassin's spatial pocket, the awful sensation of his nerves disconnecting from his muscles while darkness folded in from every side.

A faint breeze brushed across his face.

Near the window, Misdreavus nudged the heavy curtains aside with its forehead. Warm morning sunlight from Friton poured across the bedroom floor, bathing the room in gentle amber rays.

The little ghost turned around, hovering in the sunbeams. Its large red eyes blinked with concern, and it let out a soft, questioning chirp.

Logan let out a long, ragged exhale, slowly unclenched his fists, and reached out. Misdreavus drifted forward into his reach, resting its smooth, round head beneath his palm.

"I'm fine," Logan murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep. "You did nothing wrong. Did I startle you?"

Misdreavus trilled softly and pressed closer, nuzzling against his collarbone. A strange, cooling comfort radiated from the creature, settling the frantic rhythm of his pulse. 

Logan closed his eyes, drawing in the clean, steady air of his own home. He was safe on Friton, surrounded by quiet suburbs and familiar routines, yet the trauma of that pocket dimension refused to leave his bones entirely. The terrifying feeling of total helplessness was an imprint that logic alone couldn't erase.

He patted the little ghost once more and pushed the covers aside. "Alright. Time to shake this off and head to the studio."

…

In the sunlit marble courts of Olympus, Dorian stood before the reflective pool of his inner sanctum, staring intently at his floating interface.

Deep within his spiritual cache, the dark icon representing the Chaos Boon rested in absolute stillness.

Athena stood beside him, her brow knit with uncharacteristic intensity. "You're certain Chaos responded to that shadow fold?"

"Hermes stood right beside me when it happened," Dorian said.

Hovering near an ornamental pillar, Hermes nodded frantically, his winged sandals fluttering in small circles. "I swear on the River Styx, sister. The moment that rift opened, the space began warping inward. It looked as though the entire void was being sucked directly into the boon like water down a drain."

Dorian closed the status window. "The vortex drained my system reserves as well. Even with my daily production generating over a million resonance points, the boon swallowed several weeks of saved points before we broke free."

High above them on his grand throne, Zeus leaned forward, fingers tapping against the golden armrest while tiny sparks of lightning crackled across his knuckles. "A most peculiar development."

"In the game I made, Chaos remains thoroughly indifferent to the universe," Dorian pointed out, looking across the hall. "Why would the boon exhibit such violent hunger toward an ordinary Solar technique?"

The hall fell into an abrupt, suffocating silence.

The gathered Olympians exchanged quiet, uneasy glances. Poseidon leaned heavily on his trident, staring at the polished stone tiles before letting out a tired sigh.

"We can't tell you," the sea god said quietly.

Dorian took a deliberate step toward the dais. "Why? Is this some sacred decree of Olympus? Some forbidden danger you must keep hidden from me?"

Zeus raised a massive hand, his expression unusually grim. "The situation is far more complicated than a simple decree."

"There is no point in dancing around the issue," a rough voice barked from the shadows.

Ares shoved off from a marble column, his heavy crimson armor clanking with each purposeful stride. "Step aside. Let me handle this."

Several deities raised their hands to block his path, yet Zeus gave a solemn nod, signaling them to stand down.

Ares came to a halt directly in front of Dorian, a fierce, reckless grin stretching across his battle-scarred jaw. "Consider this an exercise in enduring pain."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "An exercise?"

"Before we took form in this place," Ares began, his deep voice rumbling with raw conviction, "we were–"

The word never arrived.

A sudden, cataclysmic spike of agony detonated behind Dorian's eyes.

A piercing shriek tore through his eardrums, drowning out the physical world. It sounded like the roar of a trillion calculations colliding at blinding speed, a terrible cosmic architecture that crushed his awareness under impossible weight. His balance failed instantly. His knees gave out, his hands clawing at empty air as the pristine marble architecture warped into fractured streaks of light.

Through the blinding blur, only one element remained sharp: an avalanche of jagged crimson notifications cascading across his vision.

[CRITICAL: Cosmic clearance insufficient.] [CRITICAL: Cosmic clearance insufficient.] [CRITICAL: Cosmic clearance insufficient.]

The warnings repeated in a violent, unending loop, burning against his mind like white-hot iron.

Then, as abruptly as the hammer fell, the pressure snapped.

The deafening hum cut out completely.

Dorian lay flat on his back, gasping for breath, cold sweat soaking straight through his clothes. His heart hammered violently against his ribs.

A few feet away, Ares was down on one knee, his broad chest heaving in ragged gasps. The God of War looked as though he had just crawled out from the center of an apocalyptic siege, his knuckles trembling against the stone. Aphrodite knelt beside him, hands hovering nervously over his armor as she checked his breathing.

Dorian realized his own head was resting upon a soft fabric fold. He looked up to find Athena cradling his temples against her lap.

Ares spat onto the marble floor, his voice reduced to a raspy, shuddering growl. "You see why we remain silent. Divulging our true history is impossible."

Dorian watched the red warnings fade into faint digital smoke, his thoughts spinning in chaotic circles. What was the origin of this System? What kind of authority enforced such safety measures? Most importantly, why him?

Athena looked down at him. Her grey eyes carried a heavy sorrow, paired with a faint trace of relief that he had survived the backlash.

She gently placed her cool palm across his forehead. "Quiet your racing thoughts. You must steady your breathing first."

She brought both hands down over his ears, muffling the external world into a dull, underwater hum. Beneath that gentle pressure, Dorian closed his eyes, catching only the muffled, angry cadence of an argument breaking out between Athena and Ares.

…

Several minutes later, Dorian descended the winding mountain path. At the base of the ridge, his hover bike rested on its kickstand beneath the morning sun, exactly where he had parked it. Resting across the leather saddle were a pair of riding gloves and a modular helmet.

He pulled the gloves over his hands, tightening the wrist fasteners before looking back toward the jagged mountain peak. The psychic sting from his conversation with Ares still prickled faintly behind his temples. 

Too many mysteries shrouded the system, yet every path of inquiry came right back to his cosmic level. Theorizing was useless until he broke through the level threshold.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his Pokédex scanner. With three focused thoughts, soft ripples of light shimmered across the dirt path.

Mew drifted upward into the morning air, its long pink tail swaying lazily in the breeze. Beside it, Mewtwo materialized with quiet, imposing gravity, folding its arms as its glowing lavender eyes surveyed the broad horizon. On the packed soil between them, a soft violet mound wobbled, blinking two tiny dot eyes.

Dorian raised the scanner, sweeping the lens across each creature in sequence.

A series of crisp chimes confirmed the registrations.

The device updated with three clean entries: Ditto, Mewtwo, and Mew.

Dorian lowered the scanner, a genuine smile breaking through his lingering fatigue. "Come on. Let us head to your new home."

He lifted the modular helmet and pulled it down over his head. At first glance, the unit looked oversized and unwieldy, resembling a heavy sphere of composite plating. The moment his chin settled into the chin cup, micro-servos whirred along the inner rim. The safety plates shifted and contracted along his neck and jaw, sliding across one another until the protective armor locked flush against his contours.

Ditto let out a cheerful squeak, hopped onto the front cowl, and latched itself securely to the side of Dorian's helmet like a squishy, purple decorative badge.

Dorian swung his leg over the seat, gripped the throttle, and twisted the right handle.

The repulsor coils roared, kicking up a rooster tail of gravel as the hover bike surged forward across the open valleys of Friton. Mew zipped playfully through the slipstream, while Mewtwo glided smoothly beside the vehicle, matching its high-speed cruise with effortless telekinesis.

As the wind whistled around his visor, Dorian mentally cataloged the morning's strange events. Regardless of what he suspected about Chaos or the true origins of the Olympian entities, speculation remained completely unprovable until his level advanced. For now, the only sensible choice was forward.

The rhythmic thrum of galloping hooves echoed over the engine hum.

A magnificent herd of Ponyta and Rapidash surged alongside the trail, their hooves kicking up plumes of morning dew. At the front ran a radiant Shiny Rapidash, its smoky violet mane trailing like living silk in the wind. The presence of the herd signaled that the borders of the Kepler estate were right ahead.

With the three newly scanned companions, only Venusaur remained before his first-generation Pokédex stood complete.

He crested the final rise and entered the agricultural valley. Down along the primary irrigation ditches, his father, John Kepler, stood in heavy canvas overalls, calmly coordinating a squad of Pokémon through the morning chores. 

The creatures moved with practiced ease, utilizing their natural techniques as routine farming tools. Controlled water pulses cleared out silted runoff channels while precise leaves pruned back overgrown vines.

Dorian eased off the throttle, carving a gentle arc through the dirt until the hover bike slid to a halt near the fence line.

A soft hiss of depressurization sounded as the helmet unlocked. The interlocking plates expanded outward, allowing Dorian to pull the helmet free and shake his messy hair in the breeze.

"Good morning, Dad," Dorian said.

John leaned on his hoe, wiping his brow with the back of his forearm. A stern, fond look crinkled the corners of his eyes. "How many times have I told you not to ride at top speed?"

His scolding trailed off as he noticed the two unfamiliar figures hovering in the air behind the bike. John blinked, his eyebrows rising. "Well, hello there."

Mew immediately shrank back, darting behind Dorian's shoulder to peer around his neck with wide, cautious blue eyes.

John chuckled, his posture softening into easy warmth. "No need to hide, little one. We are all family here."

He reached into the deep pocket of his work coat and produced a freshly pulled carrot, its surface gleaming with the rich, deep purple sheen of an iridium-grade crop. He held it out on an open palm.

The sweet, crisp scent caught the breeze. Mew tilted its head, sniffed the air, and slowly drifted forward across the short distance. It took the carrot in two tiny paws and began happily crunching on the tip.

John let out a deep, booming laugh. "Eat up! Finish that, and you will be able to fly even higher."

Dorian smiled, resting his forearms against the handlebars. "She can already fly higher than the clouds, Dad."

"Of course she can," John replied with a broad grin. "Anything is possible on a full stomach."

A faint rustling sounded from the front cowl of the bike. Another pink creature floated upward, sporting the exact same body and slender tail as Mew, though its face was marked by two beady black dots and a goofy, wide grin.

John paused mid-chuckle, looking between the two hovering shapes. "Oh. Another one?"

Dorian sighed, turning his head. "Stop that, Ditto."

The second Mew instantly lost its shape, melting into a gelatinous purple blob that plopped down onto the soil with a wet squelch.

John stepped back slightly, genuinely startled. "Whoa. That is quite a trick."

Before he could inspect the slime, dry leaves rustled in the neighboring sweetcorn rows. A sturdy Ivysaur ambled out into the open path, shaking topsoil from its blue legs while the pink bud on its back caught the sunlight.

John turned with a welcoming wave. "Look here, Carrot! We have more friends joining the family today."

Carrot the Ivysaur stomped over to the curious purple mound on the path, sniffing it cautiously.

Ditto gave an excited wobble. With a soft flash of light, its form stretched and expanded, reconstructing itself into a mirror image of Ivysaur. It possessed the exact same four-legged stance and floral bud, though its face still wore those blank dot eyes and a silly grin.

John burst into laughter, stepping forward to pat both rounded snouts in turn. "A clever little fellow, aren't you? In that case, you will be Eggsies from now on."

Dorian checked the time on his wrist and let out a quiet breath. "I'll head inside first. I need to get ready, since I'm running late as it is."

Beside him, Mewtwo remained silent, its gaze fixed on the sky above the estate.

Dorian looked up as well.

Circling lazily on the warm morning thermals, Charizard glided across the blue sky, flanked by the majestic silhouettes of Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres. Their elemental wings trailed faint shimmers through the morning light.

Dorian offered a nod toward the open sky. "Make yourself comfortable, Mewtwo."

Mewtwo gave a solitary, dignified nod.

Dorian wheeled the hover bike toward the main house. Behind him, Mewtwo rose into the sky with effortless psychic grace, soaring upward to join Charizard and the legendary bird trio across the peaceful expanse of the Kepler valley.

…

Dorian hurried across the staging terrace behind the main house, fastening the collar of his coat against the morning air.

At the edge of the launch pad, Levi was already standing on his hind legs beside the hover bike. The feline companion held the modular helmet and leather riding gloves in his paws, his tail swishing with disciplined focus. 

Floating just above Levi's pointed ear, Leo hummed with soft propulsion, its optical ring blinking in steady blue pulses.

"Nya!" Levi chirped crisply, extending the helmet and gloves toward Dorian with two furry paws.

Leo rotated a quarter-turn in the air, its synthetic voice chiming in with smooth electronic efficiency. "I've placed your starship into pre-flight mode, Dorian."

Dorian caught his breath and let out a quiet chuckle. He reached down and affectionately scratched Levi between the ears.

"I have to take the ship this time, buddy," Dorian said, offering an apologetic grin. "I'm running late for the morning meeting. Sorry for the sudden change of plans, I was in a rush."

Without waiting for the feline to process the news, Dorian sprinted past the hover bike and bounded up the boarding ramp of his vessel.

Leo spun a haughty, deliberate loop in midair, its external speaker delivering a distinct wave of digital sass toward the tarmac. "I win this round, feline."

Levi dropped the riding gloves onto the bike seat and looked up at the hovering orb. He narrowed his green eyes and let out a flat, unimpressed "Nya," making it abundantly clear that his winning streak across the rest of the week remained completely untouched.

…

Inside the central headquarters of Round Table Studio on Friton, the frosted glass doors to the primary junction room slid open with a soft hiss.

Arthur slipped through the entrance, raising both hands in a quick, sheepish gesture toward the conference table. The five department heads and Raja were already seated in a neat circle, their tablets and data slates resting before them.

"Sorry, sorry!" Arthur called out, moving swiftly toward the head of the room. "An urgent matter popped up at home right before I could leave, so I ended up running late."

Logan leaned back against his chair, crossing his arms with an easy, teasing grin. "Hey, you own the studio. If anything, the rest of us just showed up far too early."

A warm wave of laughter rolled around the table, washing away the formal silence of the morning.

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head as he settled into his hover chair. "Fair point. So, what were you all discussing before I walked through the door?"

Bem Lendu leaned forward, planting both elbows on the edge of the rim. "I was just telling the group that it is officially time to expand the team again."

Arthur tapped the control surface on the table. A soft pulse of light flared from the central projector, casting the studio's active resources ledger into the air.

The organizational hierarchy hovered before them in clean blue rows.

In the Design Department, Bem managed three senior designers and four junior designers.

Over in Programming, Logan supervised two senior programmers and three junior programmers.

Ross Dalle led the Sound Department with one foley artist, one sound designer, and two audio programmers.

Lin Liseli ran the Art Department with two environment artists, one visual effects and technical specialist, and two generalist illustrators.

In the Production Department, Kasavin coordinated two associate producers, one outsourcing producer, and two line producers.

Beyond the core creative developers, Raja and Ratik directed their own administrative, legal, and operational units to insulate both the public Arthur Pendragon identity and the reclusive composer persona, Percival.

Arthur studied the sparse clusters of names floating in the air. For an independent studio that was actively reshaping the cultural landscape of the Stellar Accord, their primary development roster was astonishingly lean. They were operating on a skeleton crew while juggling the expectations of millions of galactic fans.

Arthur looked around the table. "Do you think our current staff members are ready to take on leadership responsibilities and guide new recruits through the RTS pipeline?"

Liseli answered without a second of hesitation. "The second-wave hires in my department have completely internalized our workflow. They handle production assets with absolute confidence. At this stage, I'm fully prepared to hand several of them formal promotions."

Kasavin nodded in firm agreement from the opposite side of the table. "Production echoes that assessment. Our junior coordinators are already managing pipeline bottlenecks without daily supervision."

Logan reached over and swiped his thumb across the edge of the interface, rotating a secondary project schedule into the central holographic display.

The active slate expanded across the room:

Pokemon Arena

The Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood expansion

The scheduled community content update for Stardew Valley

Hades II

Resting alongside those four active pipelines were the two massive design folders Arthur had deposited into the studio archives the previous week: Hollow Knight and Final Fantasy XIV.

Arthur looked at the sheer volume of work queued up on the ledger, a fond, ambitious smile spreading across his face.

"Looking at it, we really are understaffed," Arthur said, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. "Kas, I want you to draft and announce our third wave of public hiring across the Avalon forums and our verified social feeds today. Along with that, I want every department lead to submit formal promotion paperwork for anyone who has proven themselves ready to step up."

Raja chuckled softly from the side, shaking his head with an amused grin. "As decisive as ever."

Kasavin tapped his datapad, locking the directives directly into the production calendar. "Consider it done."