Making Game: CH 163 – Hunter and Prey (Patreon)

Dorian looked up toward the two divine figures flanking him. Athena wore an intensely calculating expression, her sharp silver eyes analyzing every variable and outcome. Ares, by contrast, carried a calm, satisfied smirk, looking as though he had just caught a glimpse of a glorious battlefield waiting in the distant future.

Dorian walked through the front gates of the private mansion, leaving the heavy silence of the courtyard behind.

Down along the gravel path of the manicured front garden, Juno stood waiting. The moment she caught sight of him, a bright smile broke across her face, and she raised a hand in an energetic wave.

Dorian quickened his pace to meet her. "You waited out here the whole time?"

Juno fell into step beside him, looping her fingers loosely into her jacket pockets. "Aunt Victoria's guards came out and told me she wanted some quiet time with you alone. So, how did it go? She is nice, right?"

A translucent system panel hovered stubbornly at the corner of Dorian's peripheral vision, displaying a blue progress bar for soul repair that crawled forward at a snail's pace. He still had no idea what had caused the damage, and trying to remember what happened the second he got that pop up yielded nothing unusual about their chat.

Pushing the alert aside for the moment, Dorian offered a steady smile. "It was relatively short, but it felt like a solid first step."

Juno chuckled softly. "You'll grow to like her once you get to know her better. She really isn't a strong Solar. Even so, my father always mentions how she stayed right by his side through every hardship since they were children. That's why he and the elders handed her the responsibility of managing the family household."

Dorian glanced at her with an amused grin. "Does that mean I officially count as a Park now?"

Juno bumped her shoulder against his, her golden eyes sparkling with mischief. "I think I qualify as a Kepler first. You still have plenty of ground to cover if you want to step into my world."

Dorian laughed. The comment was entirely fair. Juno had spent far more time lounging in his family's living room and helping out on the farm than he had spent navigating the inner circles of the Apex Guild.

He reached over, wrapping an arm around her waist in an easy side hug. "Care to help me harvest our new berry crops? We have fresh bushes of Oran and Sitrus berries ready to be picked."

Juno's face lit up instantly. She took hold of his forearm with both hands. "Count me in."

They made their way to the private landing pad, boarded the Millennium Falcon, and smoothly ascended into the clear sky of Rodia IV.

…

The next morning, Dorian found himself sitting on a polished marble bench in the grand courtyard of Olympus.

He had been instructed by the gods to rest until the internal restoration ran its course. Nearly twenty-four hours had passed since he left Rodia IV, and the blue bar in his vision was finally hovering near completion. 

Several Olympian figures stood scattered across the colonnade, keeping an uncharacteristically quiet vigil. Dorian leaned his elbows on his knees, genuinely mystified as to what could have happened during a seemingly polite tea meeting.

A soft chime resonated through his consciousness.

[Soul repair complete: 100%]

[Memory integrity restored.]

The mental block shattered instantly.

A flood of vivid recollections rushed back into Dorian's mind with terrifying clarity. He remembered the crackle of pitch-black lightning coiling through the sunlit parlor. He remembered the sheer impossibility of the energy passing harmlessly through the furniture and his clothes, striking directly at the abstract concept of Falsehood to drag the absolute truth from his tongue. Then came the chilling precision of her final strike, piercing his brow with Memory to rewrite his entire recollection of the interrogation.

Dorian sat bolt upright, cold sweat breaking out across his forehead as he gripped the edge of the stone bench. His chest rose and fell in heavy, measured breaths while he sorted through the reality of the encounter.

Athena stepped forward from the colonnade, her golden armor catching the daylight. "So. We're on the same page now."

Dorian stared at his trembling hands, the implications sinking in like heavy stones. "She's terrifyingly powerful."

The sheer concept-striking mastery of her Phantasmal Thunder defied every standard Solar manual he had ever studied. It suddenly answered a long-standing question about how an independent guild managed to maintain sovereignty alongside the central government. If the Apex Guild kept an operative of Victoria's caliber hidden in plain sight, what kind of hidden monsters existed within the other guilds in their same caliber?

An even darker realization followed. If an organization as monstrous as the Apex Guild willingly signed treaties and operated under the broader umbrella of the Stellar Accord, how incomprehensibly vast was the true might of the Accord itself?

Dorian looked up at the gathered pantheon. "Do you think Juno knows anything about her aunt's real strength?"

Ares shook his head slowly, a rough rumble vibrating in his chest. "Unlikely. The girl genuinely believes the woman is a harmless administrator. Still, this encounter opened our eyes and handed you a proper target to chase. If a powerhouse like Victoria Park doesn't even sit at the absolute pinnacle of this galaxy's food chain, what makes you think you're currently strong enough to protect what you love?"

…

The northern horizon of the Kepler estate belonged to the towering silhouette of Olympus, its rugged peaks piercing the morning sky like a wall of ancient stone. 

To the west, the territorial markers of the Gold Rock Guild marked the boundary of civilized trade. 

Down along the southern fields, the agricultural heart of the valley was already alive with the roar of heavy machinery.

Automated transport skiffs glided in steady rows toward the main loading depots, carrying the dawn harvest from the estate's largest pasture. John Kepler walked along the staging bays with Leo hovering beside his shoulder.

The spherical compadre hummed softly, sweeping blue sensor beams over the loaded crates as John checked the manifests, verifying every yield of sweetcorn, grain, and root crops brought in by the harvesters.

The eastern expanse told a completely different story.

Tucked behind rolling ridgelines and thick natural woodlands, the eastern boundary remained heavily secluded, dedicated entirely to the Pokémon. Most of the inhabitants belonged to the first generation, yet the third generation had gathered in surprisingly larger numbers than the second.

Down in the shallows of the central waterways, a cheerful Mudkip puffed out its cheeks and launched a jet of pressurized water directly into the chest of an enormous Blastoise. The massive turtle stood motionless, letting the splash wash over its heavy shell, treating the attack like a gentle tickle before letting out a rumbling snort.

What had once been an ordinary irrigation pond had expanded into a sprawling chain of deep, interconnected lakes. A massive Walrein sunned its dense blubber on a flat rock outcropping, while a graceful Milotic glided just beneath the crystal-clear surface, its iridescent scales catching the morning light. Deeper in the blue currents, the slender form of a Dragonair coiled through the aquatic reeds.

Above the tree line, the sky was filled with flocks of flying types soaring across the thermals. Any traveler stumbling past the outer ridge could easily believe they had fallen through a dimensional rift into an entirely different universe.

When the creatures first began multiplying across the valley, John had worried that introducing so many foreign species would tear the fragile native ecosystem of Friton apart. He decided to take a calculated gamble. 

Dorian backed his father's instinct by purchasing vast tracts of untouched wilderness stretching along the eastern boundary, securing official wildlife conservatory permits from planetary zoning boards. The acquisition quadrupled their overall property size.

The Pokémon settled into the valley with remarkable harmony. They shared foraging grounds peacefully with the native fauna, balancing the local wildlife rather than threatening it.

But trouble rarely stayed away from open land for long.

Wild frontiers naturally drew commercial game guides, the kind of opportunistic trackers who hopped from planet to planet scouting exotic game for wealthy safari clients. Over the past several weeks, rumors had begun circulating through unofficial hunter channels about a strange, unmapped wilderness hidden out on Friton. Some whispered that the zone was infested with dangerous, plasma-saturated beasts, while others warned that the shifting forest was a confusing labyrinth completely unfit for novices.

Two figures were currently pushing through the dense brush along the outer ridge.

Epil, a towering Neman whose massive seven-foot frame forced him to duck beneath every low-hanging branch, adjusted the strap of his heavy tracking rifle. Walking beside him was Tacun, a wiry human standing just five feet five inches tall, constantly checking a handheld navigational scanner.

"Are you certain this is the correct sector?" Epil asked, his deep voice rumbling through his broad chest.

"I'm completely sure," Tacun muttered, swatting a leafy branch away from his face. "Word along the orbital docks says locals have spotted wild horses covered in living flames roaming these hills."

Epil frowned, glancing at the dry pine needles covering the forest floor. "If beasts made of open fire were running loose out here, the entire woodland would have burned to ash weeks ago."

Tacun stopped in his tracks, turning around with an exasperated sigh. "Use your head, Epil. Think about the private clientele we could lock down if we secure the coordinates to real fire-wreathed mounts. Wealthy patrons would empty their vaults for a safari like that."

"And what happens if they turn out to be high-grade plasma beasts?" Epil countered, crossing his massive arms. "Our gear can't bring down creatures infused with raw plasma."

Tacun scoffed and waved a dismissive hand, turning back toward the dense undergrowth. "If they are carrying that much plasma, we simply flip the coordinates to any guild. Solar will hunt anything with plasma energy in them."

The two poachers continued pushing through the thick brush, completely oblivious to the sky above them.

High above the canopy, hidden behind a thin veil of morning clouds, a sleek purple figure hovered in absolute silence.

Mewtwo floated with its arms crossed over its chest, its glowing eyes tracking every step the two intruders took through the trees. Flanking the psychic titan on either side were Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres, their elemental wings beating slowly against the high-altitude wind. The legendary trio kept their energies tightly suppressed, their predatory gazes locked firmly on the trespassers below.

…

Dorian stared down at his open palms, the residual phantom weight of Victoria's black lightning still lingering in his memory.

Zeus leaned forward on his massive marble throne, his expression unreadable. "Do you regret the path that led you to this moment?"

Dorian let out a heavy sigh, dropping his hands to his lap. "I would never say I regret it. It just gave me a true sense of scale, along with one very heavy wake up call regarding how powerless I am."

Dionysus swirled a goblet of iridium star wine, a wry smirk playing on his lips. "This universe just keeps getting more interesting by the day. It's a shame Apollo couldn't be here to witness this."

Athena stepped closer to the bench, her grey eyes sharp and uncompromising. "There's no use in groveling over hypotheticals. You're far more capable than you currently believe."

…

Deep within the eastern woods of Friton, Tacun paused and wiped a heavy bead of sweat from his brow. He spotted a thick, green Caterpie crawling slowly along a high tree branch. To the two poachers, it looked like an ordinary, oversized grub. The galaxy was filled with strange insects, making one more creepy crawler entirely unremarkable.

However, as they pushed deeper into the foliage, the ambient silence grew heavier. An invisible weight pressed against their shoulders. The deeper they marched, the more they could feel unseen eyes tracking their every movement through the dense leaves.

…

Ares paced across the polished floor of the divine courtyard, his armor clanking with each deliberate step. "What you are experiencing right now is the sudden absence of euphoria. When your impostor forced your hand, you dismantled that kidnapping syndicate with surgical precision. You tasted the thrill of genuine power. I wager it felt quite nice."

Dorian looked from the God of War back to his own hands. "Yes. For the very first time, I killed a person up close. At the same moment, I felt profound relief. I proved I could protect myself, which felt like a guarantee I could protect the people I care about."

Demeter folded her hands, her expression carrying the quiet weight of the harvest. "Then what exactly do you feel now, child?"

Dorian looked up, his voice quiet yet perfectly clear. "Realization. I felt exactly like prey standing frozen at the edge of a predator's gaze."

…

Both Epil and Tacun broke through the final line of dense brush, freezing in their tracks at the edge of a wide clearing.

There they were. The fiery herd from the orbital rumors grazed peacefully near the riverbank. Dozens of Ponyta and Rapidash flicked their flaming tails, led by a majestic, towering stallion crowned in a mane of brilliant blue fire.

Yet the hunters couldn't raise their weapons. A cold, sinking realization washed over them simultaneously. The oppressive weight of unseen eyes finally materialized all around them. They had never been the hunters on this expedition.

…

Ares let out a deep, booming laugh that rattled the surrounding columns. "The power chain is a fickle thing, boy! You felt like helpless prey today, yet you forget how quickly the hunted can flip the board and devour the predator."

…

The forest around Tacun and Epil suddenly came alive. The dense brush rustled as dozens of creatures stepped out from the shadows to close the perimeter.

A Farfetch'd landed heavily on a low stump, casually tapping its thick leek against the wood. A massive Slaking lumbered into view, lazily scratching its belly as it walked shoulder to shoulder with a towering Snorlax. Down by the riverbank, a massive Blastoise turned to face the poachers, pushing a pair of sharp, black sunglasses up the bridge of its snout with calm intimidation.

The Neman and the human slowly looked up toward the sky. Hovering just below the clouds were three massive elemental birds, their wings radiating frost, lightning, and open flame. Floating at the absolute center of the formation was a strange, bipedal figure in sleek purple.

Epil dropped his heavy tracking photon rifle into the dirt, his massive hands trembling. They were the prey.

The purple figure lowered its gaze. A voice echoed directly inside the skulls of both poachers, bypassing their ears entirely.

"You have trespassed with the intent of harm," Mewtwo stated, its telepathic tone vibrating with cold, absolute authority.

Tacun opened his mouth to scream or beg for his life, yet his vocal cords completely seized.

Mewtwo's eyes flared with a brilliant, hypnotic azure light. "You will never see us. You have found this area to be entirely unfit for your intent."

The fierce greed vanished from the poachers' faces in a fraction of a second. Their eyes went completely hollow, devoid of all thought, fear, and ambition. Without a single word, Tacun and Epil turned around in perfect synchronization and began a slow, empty march back toward the planetary docks, leaving the hidden sanctuary of Friton completely undisturbed.

…

Weeks slipped away into a relentless cycle of portfolio reviews and holocall interviews. The screening process brought a daily wave of profound relief to those who received acceptance letters, while carrying heavy disappointment for the thousands who were turned away. 

The final roster for the third wave of hiring officially closed with a massive expansion to the Round Table Studio family. 

The studio secured twenty new recruits for the Programming Department, twenty-one for Design, fourteen for Art, ten for Sound, and eighteen for Production.

Three brand new transport frigates, freshly purchased by the studio and bearing the silver sword insignia, descended from the Friton sky. They touched down one after another on the expanded landing pads behind the main headquarters.

A welcoming committee of senior developers stood waiting on the tarmac. As the heavy boarding ramps lowered with a hiss of pressurized air, the newest generation of developers stepped out into the morning sunlight. The crowd was a vibrant mix of races from across the Stellar Accord. Among them towered a massive Neman, carefully ducking his head to clear the exit hatch.

Regardless of their background or species, every single recruit shared the exact same expression. They were completely spellbound. Their eyes widened as they took in the sprawling greenery of the HQ and the magnificent area surrounding the studio.

The senior staff watched the stunned silence with fond smiles. Seeing the raw awe on the faces of the new hires reminded them exactly of how they had felt on their own first days. A few of the seniors even chuckled, feeling a brief flash of embarrassment as they realized they had probably looked just as overwhelmed when they first arrived.

Echo, one of the senior designers, clapped his hands loudly to break the trance. "Listen up, everyone! Let us get you sorted into your respective divisions. All of you who were accepted for Design, form a line right in front of me!"

A Gunnossian stepped forward next. Associate Producer Zed adjusted his posture, his glass prosthetic limb glinting in the light. His silver eyes carried the distinct, heavy exhaustion of someone who constantly lived under the shadow of a looming deadline. "Production team, gather up and follow me," Zed announced with a weary yet welcoming nod.

A woman with incredibly warm, friendly eyes bounced forward, waving both of her arms high in the air. "Programming Department! Yoohooo! Come over here!" Senior Programmer Liorin called out, her infectious energy drawing several chuckles from the nervous crowd.

Nardon, the lead Audio Programmer, offered a wide, genuine smile. All three of his eyes crinkled with absolute delight. "Sound Department, you can gather right over here by the crates."

Sorai, a senior VFX and technical artist, didn't bother shouting. She casually tapped the interface on her wristband. A high-definition hologram burst into the air above her head. It projected a looping, fiery animation of a red-haired Gawain performing a leaping strike to slay a massive dragon, complete with a glowing banner that read 'Art Department' unrolling from the dragon's scales.

She offered a playful smile. "Why shout when I can just draw their attention? Hehe."

The other department leads rolled their eyes in shared amusement, thoroughly used to the Art Department showing off their flair at every given opportunity.

Echo stepped back to the center of the formation. "Welcome to your first official day of orientation. Go ahead and give a round of applause to each other. You earned your spots here, and you are going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on."

The recruits exchanged nervous glances before breaking into a steady, echoing applause. The physical act of clapping seemed to break the remaining tension, and their shoulders visibly dropped as they began to relax.

Echo raised his hand to settle the noise. "Today is all about familiarizing yourselves with the Round Table Studio headquarters. I know a lot of you have probably seen the leaked photos and read the articles about our workspace. I can assure you it is vastly better when you are actually standing inside. So, without further ado, shall we start?"