Aether Corp, meanwhile, wasn't idle.
Marcus Vale stood before a digital projection of Ground Zero's backend data, frowning. "Encryption layers like this shouldn't exist. It's almost… adaptive."
His lead hacker spoke hesitantly. "Sir, I think he built something that defends itself. Every time we probe, the code changes."
Marcus's expression hardened. "Keep trying. Nobody creates something that advanced alone."
He turned to the window, city lights reflecting in his eyes.
"Ground Zero won't stand unchallenged for long."
…
By the end of the month, Ground Zero wasn't just topping charts — it had shattered them.
Server logs showed over two hundred million concurrent users across all regions. Every hour, millions of clips were uploaded, discussed, and re-edited into memes, tutorials, or cinematic montages.
VR cafés opened special pods just for the game.
Tech stores sold out of compatible headsets.
Even schools started banning Ground Zero talk during classes.
Inside Leo's workspace, the team had set up a second monitoring station just to keep up with data flow.
Tina was sprawled on a beanbag, watching a compilation titled "Streamers Who Lost Their Minds in Ground Zero."
One of them was screaming,
"WHO DESIGNED THESE PEOPLE?! THEY FLANK LIKE REAL SOLDIERS!'"
She laughed so hard she nearly dropped her tablet.
Melina, meanwhile, was deep into analytics. " Each region is forming unique patterns. Southeast Asia prefers ambush strategies. North America's mostly frontal engagements. Europe's more defensive."
Tina pointed her stylus at the graph.
"Basically, everyone's fighting smarter bots without realizing it."
Leo nodded. "That's the point — to make them feel like the world's alive."
One might say, why are bots needed if there are already enough players?
But one has to keep in mind that the game was just launched, and in Leo's view, players are still learning and not skilled enough.
So, AI bots are needed to help players improve faster. Besides, as he said, they also make the game feel more lively.
Obviously, he didn't add too many bots in a single game — he did it in moderation. The matches are still played and decided by human players.
….
Marcus Vale's patience was wearing thin. His top developers were stuck. Every attempt to dissect Ground Zero's network returned scrambled fragments — code that seemed to rewrite itself whenever they got close.
"This isn't static software," his engineer explained nervously. "It's more like a living framework. Even the packet routing adapts in real time."
Marcus leaned back in his chair. "Then make it bleed. I want something, anything. Even a vulnerability."
The hacker hesitated. "If we go deeper, the counter-measures might trace us. His security matrix reacts like… an organism."
Marcus's jaw tightened. "Then get someone who isn't afraid of a little risk."
"Then, we can only invite him."
Hearing this, Marcus flinched because he knew who the hacker was referring to.
Codenamed Dark, he was one of the top hackers in the world — someone who had even broken into some of the most complex systems ever made.
Marcus knew that if they asked that person for help, things might go smoother — if not guaranteed to succeed.
But that was the problem. That person wasn't cheap. Even for a large company like theirs, they would have to bleed through resources just to invite him.
"Sir?" called the hacker, noticing Marcus's silence. He knew that even for the company, the price to invite that man was enormous.
Marcus answered quietly, "Invite him."
"Yes, sir."
"Also," Marcus continued, "try to maintain or lower the price."
He then smiled wearily, because even he didn't believe the price could be lowered.
"I'll try, sir."
Marcus turned to the holo-map of Ground Zero's world. "Good. Because this one is going to make us billions — if we can crack it."
And this investment would be worth it if they succeeded.
…
Riya's growth was explosive.
Her subscriber count doubled every week.
Sponsorship offers piled up. Even major esports orgs began courting her for the first official Ground Zero Invitational.
But what made her stand out wasn't just her gameplay — it was her calm analysis during chaos.
She'd pause after a firefight and explain her thought process to the chat.
During one of her live sessions, a chat message caught her eye:
> "You think the devs watch your stream?"
She smirked. "Maybe. If they do, tell them to stop making bushes so realistic. I've shot like twenty."
….
Back at the studio, Tina was watching that exact stream.
"She's roasting our foliage textures," she said, laughing.
…
Without warning, a small update dropped overnight.
Patch notes were minimal:
> "Added environmental dynamics. Adjusted sound layers. Minor bug fixes."
Players quickly realized something had changed.
Gunfire echoed differently depending on terrain.
Dust kicked up from grenade blasts now lingered longer.
….
The world had changed in just a month.
Ground Zero wasn't just a game anymore. It was becoming something larger.