Making Game: CH 165 – Chaos (Patreon)

Weeks slipped by, and Liseli settled naturally into her dual role as director and producer for Pokémon Arena.

The journey had its fair share of bumps. When thousands of combat animations, particle layers, and networking protocols collided in a single build, mistakes inevitably cropped up. Yet Liseli had found her voice. 

Whenever a new artist cut corners on a texture map or a junior engineer pushed an unstable physics branch into the main repository, she never danced around the issue. She looked them straight in the eye with calm authority.

"That wasn't okay. I need you to fix it."

Her clarity kept the entire pipeline moving along the right track without breeding resentment. Alongside her firm standards, she took genuine care to understand the people working beneath her.

On a quiet afternoon, her department cleared every scheduled milestone two hours before the evening bell. Instead of assigning extra busywork, Liseli ordered a massive spread of artisan pizza from the commercial district and turned the central floor into an impromptu gathering. 

She sat cross-legged on a cushioned bench, tossing out lighthearted questions about their home planets, their eccentric habits, and what drew them into game development. 

Her warmth and cheerful spirit drew even the most introverted juniors out of their shells, knitting the fresh recruits into a tight, cohesive unit.

Arthur leaned against the upper mezzanine railing, watching the laughter echo through the lower hall. Liseli had bloomed into a remarkable leader, using empathy and open communication to anchor her team. He briefly indulged in a proud thought, quietly praising his own sharp eye for talent, before chuckling softly and dismissing the vanity. Real potential simply needed the proper soil to grow.

He turned away from the railing and walked down the wide corridor toward the junction room.

A soft chime sounded in the air. A concentrated pillar of light flared beside his shoulder, resolving into the holographic figure of Gawain. The studio compadre strode forward in lockstep with Arthur, his digital form cloaked in polished silver armor with crimson hair falling neatly over his pauldrons.

"Sir," Gawain reported, keeping his synthetic voice measured. "The final studio has transmitted their formal confirmation regarding the Caliburn VR seat cooperation agreement."

Arthur kept his pace steady. "Did they agree to our monetization structure?"

Gawain nodded, projecting a miniature data packet above his gauntlet. "Yes. Under your explicit parameters, the contract remains subject to renewal every five years. In the interim, they have consented to a twenty percent engine license fee alongside a thirty-five percent cut on platform sales."

"And the retail price ceiling?" Arthur asked. "Did they accept the hard cap of 80 credits regardless the tier of the game?"

"They signed the clause," Gawain confirmed.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. The news genuinely caught him off guard. He had anticipated fierce resistance from executive boards accustomed to hawking 3000 credit collector packages packed with plastic trinkets and empty promises.

"I suspect their financial analysts plan to leverage in-game microtransactions to recover their projected margins, sir," Gawain added.

Arthur shrugged lightly. "Well, that remains their choice to make."

The heavy composite doors slid back with a pneumatic hiss as they entered the junction room. Arthur stepped inside and took his seat, while Gawain came to a halt beside the round table.

The digital knight tilted his head, his glowing eyes studying Arthur. "May I ask something, sir? It's for the refinement of my learning module."

Arthur leaned back, resting his arms on the console. "Go ahead."

"Why grant these outside companies an opportunity on our platform?" Gawain asked, crossing his armored hands over his chest. "The Clarent Engine possesses overwhelming technical supremacy. Even version 1.0 delivers four times the performance of the most advanced commercial software on the open market. Version 2.0, currently under development by Logan and his team, already quadruples the capabilities of the original build. Why invite potential adversaries to construct titles for the Caliburn architecture?"

Arthur fell silent for a moment, letting his gaze wander across the sleek finish of the conference table.

"The industry spent decades suffocating in creative stagnation," Arthur explained. "Monopolies grew complacent, churning out soulless products because audiences had nowhere else to turn. I started this journey to reignite the medium. I handed the Secure Clarent Engine to those corporate giants, and I distributed development packages to small indie studios and creators across our Avalon forums. You've watched the community submissions roll in every week. Independent developers are building wonderfully inventive projects when given genuine creative tools. Inviting the corporate titans onto our turf serves as a healthy shock to their system. They either learn to craft compelling experiences, or they fall behind."

Gawain processed the statement, his crimson hair catching the ambient illumination of the room. "You harbor no fear of competition, sir?"

Arthur looked up, a calm, razor-sharp smile playing on his lips.

"I yearn for it."

…

The development of the new titles was moving forward in perfect synchronization with the mass production of the Caliburn VR seats. 

Far from the bustling development floors, the Kepler pasture had entered its seasonal period of rest. The harvesting equipment was safely stored away as the cold winds rolled across the valley, signaling the undeniable approach of winter.

At the Round Table Studio HQ on the other side, the chill was already biting at the air. Logan, Bem, and Arthur stood outside on the reinforced observation deck, watching the heavy facility operations above. 

High in the gray sky, the massive wind turbine blimps that powered the compound were slowly descending. Gawain, the studio's AI compadre, controlled the entire building's automated infrastructure, carefully lowering the floating generators one by one toward the staging pads.

Logan shoved his hands deep into his thick jacket pockets and shivered. "I can already feel the chill setting in."

Bem rubbed his gloved hands together briskly. "A steaming hot drink would be perfect while coding right now."

The three men fell silent for a moment. They could all easily picture the same perfect scenario. They imagined sitting comfortably in their hover chairs, a mug of rich hot cocoa resting on the desk, and lines of clean code scrolling across their screens while the cold wind howled harmlessly outside the heated glass.

"Hmmmm," the three of them hummed in perfect, unconscious unison.

Realizing they were sharing the exact same cozy daydream, they looked at one another and burst into laughter.

The heavy glass doors slid open, and Raja walked out onto the deck to join them. He looked up at the descending turbines with a curious expression. "Taking down the blimps already?"

"Gawain is just switching them out," Arthur explained, pointing toward the secondary hangar. "We need to swap them for the units pre-coated with the heavy anti-frost layer before the temperature drops any further."

"Oh, right," Raja said. He pulled a sleek digital tablet from his inner coat pocket. "While I have you all in one place, I need your confirmation puck, Arthur. We have the finalized agreement on the distribution cooperation with Stoneheart Heavy Industries to handle our logistics within the Core Rims."

Arthur took the tablet. He spent a few minutes scrolling through the dense legal clauses and delivery guarantees. Finding everything in order, he gave a firm nod, pulled his identification puck from his pocket, and pressed it against the screen to lock in his signature.

"That gets the Core Rim completely settled," Raja said, securing the tablet back in his coat.

Bem looked over, leaning against the railing. "Grokk still refused to take on the Mid Rim sectors?"

Raja shook his head. "Grokk was adamant. The logistical risks are simply too high for his traditional shipping lanes, and his commercial fleet operates almost exclusively within the Core."

Arthur tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. So we are forced to look around for the guilds, since most of their operational reach is heavily concentrated around those Mid Rim territories."

The mention of the guilds instantly reminded Arthur of his girlfriend. Juno and the Apex Guild possessed the exact kind of territorial reach and security they needed to move high-value technology through unpredictable space.

"Let me see what I can find on that front," Arthur said with a subtle, knowing smile. "Let's pick this topic back up in our meeting next week."

Raja nodded easily. "Alright. We still have a whole six months before the official launch anyway."

At that exact moment, a delicate white flake drifted down from the sky. It landed softly on the signature white streak in Arthur's hair. He reached up, touched the melting frost, and looked toward the clouds. It was snowing. The other three men followed his gaze, watching the gentle flurry begin to cover the studio grounds. Another winter had finally arrived on Friton.

…

From the warmth of the indoor corridor, Ravli stood alone by the floor-to-ceiling windows. He watched the four executives laughing and enjoying the first snow. He let out a heavy, anxious sigh.

A sudden hum of energy materialized right beside him. Gawain's holographic form blitzed into existence, his polished silver armor gleaming under the hallway lights.

"Do you require any assistance, Ravli?" the AI asked in a smooth, polite tone.

Ravli jolted, clutching his chest in a brief moment of pure panic. "Gahh! I... uh, no thanks, Gawain. It's just beautiful outside."

Gawain turned his digital eyes toward the falling snow. "It's beautiful indeed."

Ravli gave a stiff nod and quickly resumed his walk down the hallway. His stomach churned with quiet dread. So far, he hadn't sent a single piece of intelligence back to Zoye Raves. He knew the grace period wouldn't last forever. Soon, the Heliotronic Arts CEO would demand something critical, and Ravli would be forced to betray the very people he had grown to respect.

He desperately wanted to enjoy his time at this studio just like everyone else. He wanted to belong here.

He looked down at his own trembling hands. Unlike those men laughing out in the snow, he was just a junior developer. He was a brand new hire with absolutely zero leverage or standing. When the inevitable moment came and Zoye made his demands, would Round Table Studio step in to protect him? They had gone far to defend Logan. Yet Logan was a foundational pillar of the company.

Ravli wondered if he could somehow prove himself useful enough to the team before the hammer fell. He prayed that his hard work would earn him the same protection before this scheme was exposed.

…

While everything progressed smoothly back on Friton, another profound impact of the Caliburn hardware was unfolding far away from the public eye.

Inside the reinforced medical wing on Planet Dagma, Ula slowly pushed himself up from the modified VR seat.

The treatment process was agonizingly slow. The therapy essentially rewired his traumatized neural pathways, carefully conditioning the massive Neman to recognize that the phantom agony his brain registered didn't actually happen to him.

Ula raised his massive hands. A patch of soft synthetic fur rested in his palm. For the first time in almost a year, his mind registered the gentle texture without immediately translating it into searing, explosive pain. A shaky, rumbling breath escaped his broad chest.

Standing nearby, Horus clamped a hand over his mouth to hold back a sob of pure relief. He leaned forward and spoke in the softest whisper imaginable, terrified of overloading Ula's recovering auditory senses. The visual was incredibly comical to anyone unaware of the heavy nuance behind the situation. A modestly sized Dagmani was tiptoeing and whispering cautiously to an almost ten-foot-tall Neman.

Horus felt a deep wave of gratitude wash over him. He was incredibly thankful he had chosen to seek the truth about Bepoo on Luprime.

The revolutionary medic adjusted her datapad and mirrored the hushed tone. She instructed Ula to take a break and move into the decompression chamber. Inside that specialized room, his senses would remain insulated from sudden shocks, allowing the ambient environment to stimulate his nerves very slowly.

Once Ula safely entered the chamber and the heavy door sealed shut, Horus turned to the medic.

"We thank you for all your hard work," Horus said, allowing his voice to return to a normal volume.

The medic took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "There's no need to thank me. This machine did all the heavy lifting. I still have to ask how you managed to get this hardware so early."

Horus offered a mild smile. "Did the studio finally announce it to the public?"

"They did," the doctor confirmed. "The official reports state the commercial release is still roughly six months away."

"That's wonderful news," Horus replied, smoothly ignoring her initial question.

The doctor paused, clearly waiting for a proper explanation. After a few seconds of silence, she let out a quiet sigh. "It's perfectly fine if you wish to keep your secrets. However, the headquarters wants a solid answer regarding your Accord registry. Will your faction push the application forward?"

Horus squared his shoulders, his expression turning serious. "I need to be in the game to play the game. For now, our cooperation remains steady. My people need absolute certainty before we take the next step."

The revolutionary medic studied him carefully. She knew that if Ula regained his strength, they would hold a significantly better hand in any upcoming negotiations.

"I hope our cooperation can step into the light once we finally gain the edge over them," the medic said.

Horus smiled faintly. "I truly hope so as well."

…

Amidst the quiet miracles happening across the galaxy, Dorian stood in the center of the divine courtyard in Olympus.

His system interface hovered brightly in the air. Deep inside his inventory, the Chaos boon pulsed with an unsettling, dark gravity. The entire pantheon of gods stood gathered around him in a tight circle, their expressions unusually grim.

Zeus leaned forward on his throne, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Are you certain you are ready to face this?"

Dorian kept his eyes locked on the dark icon. "Chaos is a primordial being. I fully understand the risks. Avoiding them will only bring more questions while providing no answers."

He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves. Today was going to be a very short day or a very long one, and the outcome depended entirely on whether his recent cosmic level thresholds were enough to finally claim the boon.

He authorized the materialization, and the dark icon vanished from his interface. A moment later, a horizontal ring of brilliant gold erupted across the marble floor of the courtyard. Thick, billowing black smoke began to pour upward from the glowing boundary. Within the swirling darkness, faint glints of distant stars and pure, suffocating void flickered in and out of existence.

Zeus narrowed his eyes at the swirling pit. "It is Chaos."

Athena stepped forward. She raised her hand and pressed two fingers gently against the center of his forehead. A warm, brilliant silver light pulsed from her touch. The system chimed, registering the legendary boon of Divine Protection.

"I hope this helps enough," Athena said, stepping back.

Hermes drifted closer, peering down into the smoky portal. "You're heading straight into the domain of Chaos. Just so you know, it's incredibly difficult to breathe down there."

Dorian looked over at the messenger god. "How do you know that?"

"I've been there before," Hermes replied, his winged sandals fluttering nervously. "That shadow dimension that kidnapper used actually reminded me of the feeling."

Dorian nodded, taking a steadying breath. He stepped to the edge of the golden ring and jumped into the abyss.

The descent was immediate and violent. As he fell through the swirling darkness, a blaring system alert flashed across his vision. His resonance point reserves were actively draining.

In the original game, Zagreus had to sacrifice his own lifeblood to enter the primordial gates. For Dorian, the system substituted his accumulated energy. The counter plummeted rapidly, tearing away one hundred thousand points in a matter of seconds. It was the exact equivalent of one hundred rolls on the Hades banner.

His boots finally struck a solid, invisible floor.

Dorian crouched low, letting the digital smoke clear from his eyes. He stood in a realm of absolute nothingness. It carried a striking resemblance to the assassin's shadow pocket, yet the atmosphere here felt vastly different. The pressure was infinitely more potent. It felt ancient and overwhelmingly heavy, while remaining completely controlled.

In the absolute center of the room, a singular object floated in the dark. It was a boon, glowing with a deep, pulsing purple light.

Dorian took a deep breath, fighting the crushing atmospheric pressure, and reached his hand out toward the sphere.

"I accept this message," he said quietly.

DONG! DONG!

A massive, tolling reverberation shook the very foundation of the void. The endless space around him seemed to stretch and awaken. Unbeknownst to Dorian, the untamed void threading through the fabric of the entire universe began to shift and transform.

…

Back in the sunlit courtyard of Olympus, the gods stood in a quiet circle around the fading portal.

Ares tilted his head back, staring up at the clear blue sky. "Something has changed."

Zeus floated upward from his throne, closing his eyes as he extended his senses across his vast domain of the sky. His son was correct. The fundamental fabric of the universe had just awakened to a new reality. 

What Zeus felt was merely the outermost ripple of a cosmic tidal wave. The primordial force of Chaos had forcibly awakened the dormant void within this reality. The King of Olympus could hardly wonder what terrifying side effects this would unleash upon the mortal Solar warriors who regularly tapped into spatial dimensions.

Hermes suddenly laughed, twirling in midair as a solid physical weight settled over his divine form. "Oh look at that! I can fully materialize now. I can't wait to go pet that Pokémon! Hehehe!"

…

Light-years away from the Friton sector, the grand council chambers on Ardota Prime hummed with political debate. The Celestarch sat at the head of the long table, leaning his cheek heavily against his rested hand with his eyes closed. Streaks of pure white hair now traced the sides of his golden mane. A neatly trimmed beard and mustache gave him an even more mature, imposing presence compared to before.

Suddenly, the Celestarch opened his eyes. He looked straight up toward the vaulted ceiling, ignoring the ongoing presentation entirely.

The Prime Vizier halted his speech, bowing his head in concern. "My liege?"

The Celestarch kept his gaze fixed on the invisible heavens. "Something has shifted."

…

Down in the primordial abyss, Dorian slowly looked up from the purple boon.

A voice began to echo through the absolute darkness. It was impossible to pin down. The sound contained a vast multitude of separate voices, spanning every conceivable gender and tone, all speaking in perfect, overlapping unison.

"...This is a rather interesting universe," the voices murmured, vibrating through Dorian's very bones. "...Would you not agree?"