The map was extraordinary — essentially a cheat code that revealed everything. But for Kairos, it still wasn't enough. Knowing where wild Pokémon and people were was one thing. He needed a way to match that information to the right players: a precise, intelligent system that could connect raw data to the people who could actually do something with it.
It was like having a massive database with no search function. The data meant nothing without the logic to make sense of it.
---
He needed to feed the Ghost World's conditions into the game in real time, so players would know exactly what they were walking into before they took a step. No more accepting a mission and then getting wiped out two seconds later by a Champion-tier ghost Pokémon lurking behind the door.
And beyond that, this system could completely replace the Ghost World's official mission board.
If the bounty hunters who spent every waking hour scraping for work could access intelligence this precise, covering every corner of the Ghost World, they'd probably lose their minds.
In a place like the Ghost World, information kept you alive. And staying alive meant getting paid.
But even that wasn't enough.
Kairos's fingers drummed lightly against the desk, his brow creasing.
He could post missions in the game, players could accept them and head into the Ghost World to hunt targets. That part was straightforward. The problem was figuring out whether a given player was actually up to the job.
What if someone who was only hitting Gym Leader strength accepted a mission to take down a high-ranking Pokémon? That was just sending them to die.
This was a war, yes. But Kairos had no interest in pointless body counts.
What he needed was a module that could check players' real-world status in real time. Not just their Pokémon rosters, but a real read on their actual combat strength. Only then could he properly match players to missions at their level, with rewards to match.
With that thought, he pulled up the system interface.
"System, is there a module that can check players' real-world situations in real time and analyze their combat power? Something that could even predict win rates?"
The system was quiet for a moment. Then pale blue text floated up across the screen.
[Detecting host's requirements. Searching for relevant modules...]
[Search complete. Recommended purchase: Intermediate Module "Reality Scanner."]
[Function Overview: This module bypasses spatial limitations to monitor bound players' real-world conditions in real time, including Pokémon status, physical condition, mental state, and more. A built-in algorithm automatically rates each player's combat power and simulates battles between the player and a specified target, whether in-game or real-world, to calculate win probability. If needed, the module can also send tactical guidance to players through the game.]
Kairos stared at the screen.
Huh.
Something like this was only an Intermediate Module?
He had figured that anything involving real-world monitoring and intelligent analysis would be at least High-Tier. But thinking it through, it made sense. The module's core functions were querying and support. It couldn't directly interfere with reality or boost anyone's stats. Under normal circumstances it would be completely useless to him. He had no time to sit around combing through other people's data.
Right now, though, it was exactly what he needed.
"How many points?"
[Intermediate Module: "Reality Scanner" - Price: 5,000 points.]
Five thousand points. Practically pocket change.
"Buy it."
Five thousand points were deducted in an instant.
A new icon appeared on his system panel, sitting alongside the upgraded map module he had picked up earlier. He tapped it, and a large virtual window opened immediately.
He picked a player at random to test it, someone who had been pretty active in the Second World recently, and entered the ID.
That player's full profile spread across the screen like a medical chart.
[Player ID: RagingCharizard]
[Real-world Location: Upper District Simulated Battle Park]
[Current Status: Mentally stimulated, mild fatigue]
[Main Pokémon: Charizard - Hasty nature, Blaze ability, held item: Charcoal...]
[Overall Combat Power Assessment: Gym Leader, Early Stage]
[Simulated Battle Target: Ghost World Outer Zone B3, Gengar (Gym Leader, Mid-Stage)]
[Win Rate Prediction: 12%]
[Recommendation: Avoid direct confrontation. Engage from the air using Flying-type advantage. Win rate can be raised to 21%.]
Kairos looked over the rows of data and analysis filling the screen and gave a satisfied nod.
Now that was what he was talking about.
With this, he could turn the entire Ghost World battlefield into one massive game dungeon. Players wouldn't be stumbling around in the dark. They would be soldiers, moving with real intelligence backing them up.
He took a slow breath. The end was in sight.
The framework was in place. The map was ready. The monitoring system was up and running.
One final piece remained.
Rewards.
Without good rewards, nobody was going to risk their lives in a hellhole like the Ghost World. Even routine in-game missions got ignored when the payout wasn't worth it.
He checked his remaining point balance. The last purchase had cost five thousand, leaving him with just over fifty thousand. He had originally planned to hold onto those points for a higher-tier module upgrade down the line. But right now he had no choice.
He needed to pull some rewards first. A lot of them. Enough to make players' eyes go wide the moment they opened the mission list.
He had no idea what the draws might turn up. His confidence in his own luck had never exactly been sky-high. But still, what if?
Before drawing rewards, though, he needed to loop in the Dream Factory crew. The game's framework was built, but the character models, textures, story dialogue, and mission scripts all still needed to be filled in. That was exactly their lane.
Once that was sorted, there was one more call to make.
---
Somewhere in Withered Leaf City's upscale residential district, a luxurious villa blazed with light.
This was where the former Dream Factory employees had set up shop. After the mass walkout, the group had relocated here and turned the villa into both a workspace and a crash pad.
The first-floor lobby was buzzing with noise and energy. Dozens of high-performance computers ran at full tilt, their screens casting pale light across faces that had no interest in sleep. Every expression in the room carried the same look: focused, a little wired, and completely in their element.
Keyboards clattered in rolling waves.
"There's a timeline problem here. If the protagonist runs into the Skycloud Expedition's captain at this point, the rest of the story falls apart."
"Push that event back two chapters. Let him deal with the Devil's Forest incident first. We can use it to introduce the teammate's special ability along the way."
"Fine. But isn't the maze a bit punishing? The failure rate in the test zone is already sitting at thirty percent."
"Is it? I think that's exactly right. These are rescue teams. There's supposed to be a challenge. I already bumped up the drop rate on the final floor's treasure chest. Anyone who clears it will walk away happy."
At the long table in the center of the lobby, several core members sat huddled over design diagrams, gesturing and arguing with everything they had.
That kind of back-and-forth happened every single day. Back at Dream Factory, management would have called it a waste of time. Here, nobody was looking over their shoulders. As long as the game turned out great, they could practically tear the walls down.
During a break, a programmer with thick glasses dropped onto a nearby couch with a sigh, cradling a cup of coffee.
"Hey, Mark, how many headhunting calls did you get this week?"
Mark, the lead designer, smiled faintly and held up a hand. "Five."
"Five?" The programmer pushed his frames up with a smug look. "I got eight. One was from the HR director at Stellar Entertainment. Triple salary and a two percent equity stake." He paused. "I hung up immediately."
"And here I thought we quit for the money." Mark shook his head with a short laugh. "Hilarious."
The programmer took a long sip of coffee.
"Exactly. And even with the overtime every day for the past two weeks, I feel more satisfied than I ever did at Dream Factory. Back then, making games meant making them for the paycheck, for whoever was signing the checks. Now..." He trailed off and leaned back with a comfortable exhale. "And it's not like the money is bad either, right?"
The programmer grinned and said nothing.
Of course it wasn't.
The game was completely free to play, no purchases of any kind. But advertisers had been calling nonstop, practically melting the phone lines. Someone had offered over a million Pokédollars just for the right to run a single energy block ad inside the Rescue Team base.
They had carefully brought it up with their mysterious contact, Wind.
His reply had been immediate. He didn't need the money. Do whatever they wanted with the ad revenue, just don't plaster garbage all over the game.
Good grief. Where did you even find a boss like that?
Mark shook his head with a quiet laugh. "I did the math. What we made in just these two weeks is already more than ten times what we used to pull in a month. Every time I go to deposit it, I'm half expecting the teller to flag my account."
The two looked at each other and cracked up.
Every person in that room was quietly, deeply grateful for the decision they had made. If they hadn't walked out together, they would still be sitting in that airless office right now, grinding away on some soulless rehash of a game that already existed.
Then, without warning, the lobby went silent.
It happened in an instant, like someone had yanked the sound out of the room. Every head turned toward the large screen at the front of the lobby.
A notification had appeared on its own.
Their internal comms platform. The alert tone that only triggered for one person.
Wind.
Since they had started making this game, every person in that room had developed a genuine respect for him. Not just because he could produce rare items out of nowhere to use as in-game rewards, but because of how unnervingly good he was as a developer.
These were seasoned professionals. But every time they submitted work they were proud of, and the update actually went live, they would be caught completely off guard. The game's feel, its responsiveness, the depth of its systems, all of it would be noticeably better. Two, three, four times better.
There was only one explanation. Wind had been quietly putting in an enormous amount of work behind the scenes.
So whenever a message from him showed up, everyone stopped what they were doing. Because it almost always meant they were about to learn something.
Every person in the lobby held their breath. Dozens of eyes locked onto the screen.
A single line of text appeared.
[Wind: You've all done great work. Rescue Team's reception has gone beyond what I expected.]
The lobby exploded.
Getting a compliment from Wind was already a big deal, something worth celebrating in its own right. Cheers bounced off the walls. A few people actually pumped their fists.
But then the text kept coming.
[Wind: Set Rescue Team aside for now. We're going to build something new.]
The cheering cut off.
Every face in the room went blank.
Set it aside? Rescue Team's story wasn't even halfway done. There were unfinished levels, players demanding more content, momentum that felt unstoppable. And just like that, they were putting it on hold?
And now they were starting a brand new game on top of that?
Did this person's drive have a ceiling at all?
They were still trying to process it when the next lines came through.
[Wind: This game will connect directly to the real world. It involves the Ghost World. Below is a rough outline. I've already built a prototype, and the details need to be filled in by your team. I need it done as fast as possible. Time is short. Give it everything you've got.]
Silence settled over the room a second time.
Connected to the real world?
The Ghost World?
What in the world was he building?