Kairos ran his fingers through his hair. The whole situation? Ridiculous. Absolutely bonkers, if he was being honest with himself.
But then again, and here's where it got weird, the more he turned it over in his head, the more it actually made a strange kind of sense.
He closed his eyes. "System, I need the full picture here. Backgrounds, motivations, everything you've got on these people."
Information crashed into his consciousness like a wave.
Adam. Former lead programmer over at Dream Factory.
The guy was sharp, brilliant even, but possessed the social finesse of a hammer.
He'd spearheaded the walkout after getting thoroughly sick of watching his company steal ideas and grind people into dust.
The others who'd followed him out? Core team members, every single one. A lead designer. An artist with serious chops. A marketing whiz who actually understood games.
All of them talented. All of them passionate. All of them chewed up and spit out by a company that never deserved them.
The data dump also included their exposé, timestamps, receipts, the whole damning paper trail they'd released right after walking out the door.
"So... this is legit."
Kairos rubbed his jaw, thinking.
Look, Nova was many things. Slimy, opportunistic, kind of pathetic. But mastermind? The man couldn't orchestrate a birthday party, let alone something this elaborate.
And the cost! They'd basically nuked their own company from orbit. Dream Factory might've limped along for another few months without this scandal going public.
Now? Dead. Finished. Not even life support could save them.
His eyes lingered on one phrase in the intel: "desire to create truly fun games."
Something stirred. A flicker of... what? Recognition, maybe.
Working solo with the System was fine for churning out games. Great, actually.
But all the other garbage, the emails, the meetings, the eventual marketing nightmares, that stuff required actual human beings.
The System seemed laser-focused on core production and distribution.
If trustworthy people could handle the messy real-world logistics? Life would get considerably easier.
One non-negotiable condition, though. His identity stayed buried. Period.
"System, is there any way to reach out anonymously? Like, truly untraceable? The kind of secure that makes spy agencies weep?"
[Affirmative. The System can establish an encrypted anonymous communication channel. All data routes through the System itself. Current global technology cannot trace the Host's identity. One-way or two-way transfer available.]
His eyes lit up. Now that was useful. Custom-built for someone like him, the puppet master who preferred staying in the shadows.
"Alright then." He paused, composing the message mentally. "Send them a reply from 'Wind Studio.'"
Tricky balance here. Too eager and he'd look desperate. Too distant and he'd kill their motivation entirely.
He was basically recruiting employees, wasn't he? So there had to be some kind of test. A way to gauge what they could actually do.
And then, perfect timing, a game popped into his head.
A series with distinctive mechanics and a self-contained structure. Ideal for seeing whether these former industry hotshots could walk the walk.
He had the System draft something. The gist: We saw your pledge, appreciated the guts it took, and welcome genuine talent, but we need proof.
Attached: the concept outline and a promotional CG the System whipped up.
Before hitting send, Kairos triple-checked that sender address. Encrypted. Untraceable. A ghost in the machine.
Only then did he let himself relax. A small smile tugged at his lips.
Time to see what they were made of.
---
Saffron City. That gloomy coffee shop with the private room that had seen better days.
Days had crawled by.
Their heartfelt pledge? Swallowed by the void. The internet had moved on, Dream Factory's scandals drowned out by Emerald's explosive success.
The initial fire in the group had cooled to embers, and reality's weight pressed down on each of them like wet concrete.
"I think..." One guy slumped so far back in his chair he was practically horizontal.
"Maybe we should just throw in the towel. Wind Studio probably never even saw our message. Or they saw it and... didn't care." He sighed.
"Rainbow Group called yesterday. The position's a downgrade, but hey, rent doesn't pay itself."
"Just a little longer. Maybe..." Adam's voice lacked conviction even to his own ears. He'd refilled his water glass four times. Didn't help.
Skills? They had those in spades. Experience? Plenty. But their real currency was love for games and a stubborn streak of idealism. Fat lot of good that did when nobody would give them a shot.
The psychological toll was the killer. The waiting, the hoping, the slow erosion of belief.
The room hit rock bottom. Someone quietly pulled out their phone, probably to respond to some HR drone at a company they didn't care about.
Ding!
A notification. Sharp. Clear. In that suffocating silence, it might as well have been a gunshot.
Adam's gaze drifted to his laptop. His eyes went wide.
The sender address was gibberish, a random soup of symbols and letters. But the subject line? Crystal clear:
[To Mr. Adam and Colleagues: Greetings and an Invitation from "Wind Studio"]
"Holy..."
Adam launched out of his seat. The chair nearly went flying.
Everyone's heads snapped toward him.
"Adam? What the hell?"
"You look like you saw a ghost, man."
His hand trembled as he pointed at the screen. Words tumbled out in fragments: "It's... they... Wind Studio! They actually replied!"
"WHAT?"
"You're joking."
"Open it! Open it NOW!"
Bodies crowded around the laptop. Despair? Gone. Evaporated. Eyes locked on the screen, breathing turned shallow and fast.
Adam forced himself to take a breath. Calm. Stay calm. With fingers that definitely weren't steady, he clicked.
The message was short. Every word hit like a thunderbolt:
---
"Mr. Adam and colleagues:
Your message has been received. Your resolve and courage are duly noted. Dream Factory's history requires no further discussion.
Wind Studio exists to craft games that bring genuine joy to players. We welcome all who share this vision and possess real talent.
However, collaboration demands mutual understanding and trust.
To assess your capabilities, your alignment with our philosophy, and your ability to execute on an entirely new genre, we've prepared a preliminary verification project.
Project codename: Pokémon: Mystery Dungeon.
Attached is a concept demonstration containing the core vision and partial visual presentation.
Review it carefully. Submit a detailed preliminary project proposal within forty-eight hours (including but not limited to: gameplay analysis, technical implementation challenges, art direction recommendations, market positioning) to this address.
This serves as our assessment of your abilities. We look forward to your insights.
Wind Studio"
---
That was it. No signature. No contact info. Just an attachment icon sitting there like a quiet promise.
Silence.
The kind of silence that presses against your eardrums.
Then someone gasped, shattering the spell.
"We did it! They actually saw us!"
"There's a chance! A real chance! Pass the test and we're in!"
"I KNEW Wind Studio would notice!"
The celebration lasted maybe ten seconds before confusion muscled its way in.
"Wait. Hold on." One of the designers was stammering. "Pokémon... Mystery Dungeon? What does... what even is that? What dungeon?"
"Never heard of it. Never imagined it. How does Pokémon connect to dungeons?"
"Forget the questions! Adam! The attachment! Play the trailer! There's gotta be answers in there!"
Adam's heart was hammering. Deep breath. Mouse. Double-click.
The video started.
No flashy intro. Just darkness. Deep, consuming black, accompanied by low music that pulsed like something alive, like a heartbeat in the void.
A faint glow appeared. The camera descended into twisting caves, passages branching endlessly, walls covered in ancient patterns that seemed to whisper of forgotten things.
Then, light.
Center frame: not a Trainer. A Pichu. Absolutely adorable, clutching a berry, picking its way through a forest maze choked with vines and strange stones.
A voice began narrating. Steady. Magnetic. Like someone recounting a legend:
"In a world where humans don't exist... a world of only Pokémon..."
Scene shift. A Machop heaved a massive boulder aside. Diglett tunneled through earth. Taillow wove through a sky maze filled with slicing wind.
"When crisis strikes... when friends need saving..."
The camera swung. A Treecko trapped in rapids, whirlpool pulling it under, eyes full of helpless terror.
Far away, Lucario and Leafeon sprinting through a burning labyrinth, desperation in every movement.
"The gears of destiny begin to turn..."
Faster now. Pokémon forming teams. Moves deployed against traps and wild creatures.
Safe camps where they shared food, exchanged information. Grateful rescued Pokémon offering precious items.
"You will no longer be a Trainer."
Final image: an Absol standing on a precipice, surveying an endless, ever-shifting maze world. Sharp eyes. Unshakeable resolve.
"You will become the Pokémon itself."
"Explore dungeons that never repeat. Rescue those in peril. Uncover the world's secrets..."
"Pokémon: Mystery Dungeon. The adventure... begins now."
Black screen.
---
The private room might as well have been a tomb.
Adam and company stood frozen. Jaws slack. Eyes like dinner plates. Faces painted with pure, undiluted shock.
They'd brainstormed possibilities. Maybe something like Emerald's open-world design. Maybe Black Shadow's aesthetic. A competitive spin, even.
But this? A concept that flipped everything they thought they knew about Pokémon completely upside-down?
No humans. Just Pokémon. Players becoming Pokémon. Randomly generated dungeons packed with danger. Rescue missions.
Insane. Absolutely, gloriously insane.
Ten seconds of statue-like stillness before someone finally exhaled.
"This game..." The artist's voice shook, but his eyes were practically glowing. "This concept is... it's genius. A completely fresh lane!"
"A world with only Pokémon... playing as a Pokémon..." Adam muttered, programmer brain already racing.
Random generation algorithms. Move-environment interactions. Mission system architecture. "Massive challenge. But god, it's fascinating."
"Forty-eight hours!"
Another designer smacked his thigh so hard it had to hurt. "We don't have time to stand around gawking! Move! Split up the work! Tear apart every frame of that video!"
His voice cracked with excitement. "This is the craziest, most brilliant interview test I've ever seen in my entire career, and I am going to crush it!"
Confusion? Doubt? Despair? Thrown out the window and set on fire.
What replaced them: blazing passion. Fierce determination. The hunger of people who finally had something worth fighting for.
They understood now. The door to Wind Studio had cracked open. Just a sliver.
And the key?
In their hands.
---
Kanto region. Champion Lance's office.
The game screen had frozen on the ending, but Lance's expression was a mess.
Complicated, distant, almost haunted. No satisfaction. No relief. Because what he'd just experienced defied easy processing.
Groudon and Kyogre tearing the world apart. Rayquaza's dramatic descent to end the chaos.
Those he could handle. Powerful, terrifying, but... comprehensible. Legendary Pokémon doing legendary things.
But what came after, that pitch-black creature oozing malevolence from the suddenly-torn Ultra Wormhole.
That impossibly advanced starship fleet capable of capturing Legendaries by force. That fortress hanging in the void of space like a bad dream made real.
None of it computed.
Now he understood why Cynthia had kept her mouth shut about the story's later beats.
Deep breath. Communicator in hand. Call placed.
Cynthia's face materialized on screen, calm, beautiful, her study visible in the background.
"Cynthia. I've been through it now."
Straight to business:
"First, thanks for not spoiling anything. The experience was... intense. But I can't shake the feeling that this problem keeps getting bigger. And bigger."
"Groudon and Kyogre, Rayquaza, powerful, sure, but our world has legends about beings like them.
I checked the ancient texts. They mention similar creatures."
"But that black Pokémon that showed up afterward? Those people? That fortress?" His brow furrowed. "What's your read on all of it?"
۞۞۞۞
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