Three weeks later, winter had officially descended upon Planet Friton.
Outside the massive, curved glass windows of the Round Table Studio junction room, heavy white snow was falling peacefully, blanketing the rolling prairies and the agricultural fields in a pristine layer of frost. But inside the headquarters, the atmosphere couldn't have been warmer.
The eco-friendly hardwood floors were fully heated, making the ground the absolute best place to be in the entire building. As a result, the junction room looked less like a corporate executive hub and more like a massive, galactic slumber party.
All of the developers from every department were sprawled out, huddled together on the warm floor with thick blankets and pillows. Every single one of them was holding a glowing HelioPad, their eyes completely glued to their screens.
The Pokémon Alpha build was officially live on the internal servers, and it was time to playtest.
"Ahh, come on!" one of the junior environment artists groaned, rolling onto his back in defeat. "I ran out of Poké Balls already! That Ponyta just ate through my entire inventory!"
One of Logan's net-code programmers, sitting cross-legged nearby, let out a smug, knowing chuckle. "Hehe, that's exactly why you have to actually strategize on which Pokémon to catch, man. You can't just throw Poké Balls at everything that moves. Lower their HP first!"
"I GOT THE SECOND BADGE!!"
Lin Liseli suddenly shrieked at the top of her lungs, throwing her HelioPad into the air and catching it triumphantly. Her multi-colored hair was a chaotic mess from lying on the floor, but her face was beaming with pure adrenaline.
Dorian, who was comfortably propped up against the base of the central holographic table, chuckled warmly. "Hooo, nice work, Lin. With what team?"
Liseli proudly crawled over and shoved her screen into Dorian's face. "Look! My starter evolved, and with my Eevee evolved into Jolteon! It absolutely destroyed the Water-type Gym!"
The entire scene was incredibly cozy and deeply wholesome. Across the room, developers were casually throwing around creative ideas, shouting out minor quality-of-life adjustments to enrich the features further.
The Programming department was particularly puffed up with pride. Usually, an Alpha test was a horrific, glitchy nightmare of broken geometry and crashing codes. But thanks to their rigorous timeline and Logan's leadership, the build felt almost entirely bug-free.
Well, almost.
"Arthur," Ross Dalle rumbled, his massive Zynar frame taking up the corner of the room. The audio director was frowning deeply at his screen. "I think I found a geographical glitch. I somehow wedged my character's sprite underneath a stationary truck near the harbor port... and I entered a combat sequence with a hidden, floating pink cat called 'Mew'."
Logan's head instantly snapped up from his datapad. "What?! That's impossible, Ross. We haven't programmed any spawn algorithms under that asset. It's just background scenery!"
Dorian quickly hid his mouth behind his hand, trying to stifle a massive, highly amused smile. "Don't worry about it, Logan," his eyes twinkled with an inside joke no one else could possibly understand.
Nearby, Bem and the Design team were entirely locked in. They were intensely focused, their brows furrowed as they rapidly jotted down mathematical scaling notes. They desperately wanted the elemental combat to be challenging but completely fair, so they were constantly nudging the people around them.
"Hey, how did the transition into the Rock-type gym feel?" Bem asked a sound designer. "Did the level curve feel too sudden? Too punishing?"
Before the designer could answer, the automatic glass doors hissed open, letting in a brief, crisp gust of winter air. Raja Farzir stepped into the junction room, shaking a hint layer of fresh snow off his impeccably tailored dark wool coat.
"Good afternoon," the Qerrian greeted, lifting a heavy, secure briefcase. "I have brought the first batch of physical samples for the Trading Card Game printing."
But before Raja could open the case, a pillar of hard-light materialized right in the center of the room. Gawain's holographic knight form stood tall, his silver armor gleaming.
"Attention, team," Gawain announced smoothly. "The cafeteria Compadres have finished preparations. Lunch is officially ready. I implore all of you to put your screens down, take a mandatory break, and eat."
Raja smoothly clicked the briefcase shut again. "After lunch it is, then."
Slowly, one by one, the developers let out synchronized groans of reluctance. They began to stand up and shuffle toward the doors, but they moved like absolute zombies, their eyes still entirely glued to their HelioPads as they tried to squeeze in just one more wild Pokémon encounter before reaching the cafeteria.
Dorian stayed on the floor for a moment, simply watching his team. He looked down at the Alpha build running on his own screen.
It was beautiful. It wasn't full 3D, nor was it the flat 2D of Stardew Valley. It was a masterful, top-down 2.5D style that perfectly captured the retro, grid-based charm of FireRed, but elevated with heavily polished modern textures, stunning lighting engines, and dynamic particle effects. It was a complete, breathtaking world, and it was almost completely ready to be played by gamers all across the galaxy.
Suddenly, with a burst of pixelated static, Gawain blitzed.
The holographic knight instantly materialized right beside Dorian's ear.
"Sir. Lunch."
Dorian startled violently, nearly dropping his HelioPad onto the hardwood. "Gah! Fine, fine, I'm going!" Dorian grumbled, rubbing his chest to calm his racing heart as he stood up. He glared playfully at the AI. "You know, you are becoming more and more like Leo every single day."
Gawain offered a crisp, flawless knightly bow. "I will take that as a compliment, sir."
…
After a hearty lunch prepared by the cafeteria Compadres, the team eagerly filtered back into the junction room. The snow continued to fall gently outside the massive windows, and the developers quickly reclaimed their cozy spots on the heated hardwood floor.
Raja Farzir walked to the center of the room and set his heavy metallic briefcase down on the floor. With a crisp double-click, he popped the latches and opened it. Inside, resting on dark velvet foam, were neatly stacked rows of brightly colored, foil-wrapped packets.
Kasavin leaned forward, picking up one of the crinkly packs. He pushed his glasses up his nose, analyzing the vibrant illustration of a Charizard on the front.
"This is it?" Kasavin asked, his tone laced with polite skepticism. "Printed cardboard? Personally, I do not see the appeal. It feels entirely archaic compared to the engine we are building."
Several other developers murmured their agreement, finding it strange that a cutting-edge tech studio was investing credits into printed paper.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor in his comfortable grey sweater, completely at ease, Arthur let out a warm chuckle.
"Hoo, I know it seems simple," Arthur said, resting his elbows on his knees. "This is just a supplementary merch for now. But soon, I can see people playing around and desperately collecting these cards. It has its own magic."
Raja adjusted his cuffs, looking at the inventory numbers on his datapad. "I still firmly think playing video games is much better. Logistically speaking, keeping our consumers on a digital storefront will be vastly more profitable for the company, too."
Arthur didn't argue the logistics. Instead, he reached into the briefcase, pulled out a single foil pack, and tossed it into Kasavin's lap.
"Open it," Arthur challenged with a knowing smile.
Kasavin arched an eyebrow, but he carefully tore the top of the foil. It was a historic moment, the very first Pokémon Trading Card Game pack to ever be officially opened in the galaxy.
Kasavin slid the cards out. He flipped the first one over. It was a simple, vibrant Fire Energy card. Then a Pidgey. Then a Geodude. As he slowly sifted through the cards, the surrounding developers leaned in close. The artwork was absolutely breathtaking. The colors popped, and the creatures looked incredibly dynamic.
Sitting across the circle, Lin Liseli crossed her arms and smiled smugly, soaking in the collective awe. Beside her, the junior artists were blushing heavily as the programmers showered their illustrations with praise.
Then, Kasavin slid the second-to-last card aside to reveal the rare slot at the back of the pack.
The entire group gasped.
It was a Mewtwo. The card was lined with a highly reflective, prismatic foil that caught the warm studio lights, making the psychic clone look like it was genuinely glowing with energy.
Kasavin's stoic, professional demeanor instantly vanished. His eyes went wide behind his glasses. "Whoa... I got the shiny card."
Arthur chuckled softly. "It's called a Holo."
Bem, completely mesmerized by the prismatic shine, reached his hand out. "Let me see it."
Kasavin immediately pulled the card back, pressing it protectively against his chest. He glared at the Head of Design like a territorial dragon guarding its hoard. "Open a pack yourself, Bem."
The entire room fell into a stunned silence.
In that exact second, every developer sitting on the floor suddenly realized the appeal of the cardboard they had just mocked.
Logan Kim scrambled forward on his knees, his eyes locked onto the briefcase. "Wait, wait... what other shiny… I mean, holo cards are there?"
Raja tapped his datapad. "Hmmm. According to the printing manifest, there are only about twenty specific sets of holo cards in this current base set."
A dangerous, hungry glimmer appeared in the eyes of the dozens of developers surrounding the Qerrian. They all began to reach toward the open briefcase, wordlessly asking for more packs.
Raja's eyes widened, his blue sensory tendrils spiking in alarm. He quickly raised his hands and slammed the briefcase shut to protect the inventory. "Whoa, whoa! Stand back! I only brought about ten of them as physical samples! These are not for distribution!"
Arthur burst out laughing, clapping his hands together. "Alright, alright, leave Raja alone, guys! I can give your own booster boxes when they officially launch. Raja, let's see the other merch that will be available."
Raja let out a relieved sigh, stepping away from the rabid programmers. He gestured to Ross Dalle, who used his massive, three-jointed Zynar arms to haul several large, unmarked shipping boxes into the center of the room.
Ross popped the heavy tape, and a mountain of soft, colorful fabric spilled out onto the floor.
It was a massive pile of high-quality plushies, representing the first generation of 151 Pokémon.
Arthur reached into the pile and pulled out a large, round Blastoise. He ran his thumbs over the fabric, deeply inspecting the stitching and the material quality. He had been highly worried about outsourcing physical toy production to the Outer Rim, afraid they would look cheap and damage the brand. But the material was incredibly soft, durable, and flawlessly designed.
Arthur looked up and watched his team dive into the pile. He saw a gruff, heavily tattooed senior network engineer gently hugging a plushie of a Koffing, a literal floating ball of toxic gas that Arthur personally found rather repulsive. But seeing the developer lovingly holding it, completely overjoyed to find his favorite digital monster in physical form, immediately resolved Arthur's remaining doubts.
Every single Pokémon, no matter how weird or ugly, had a fan.
"These plushies have already passed safety inspections and are ready to be shipped in large quantities to a handful of Core Rim planets," Raja reported, watching the developers happily trade their favorite stuffed monsters. "There are also keychains, lanyards, and smaller trinkets in that box over there."
Arthur smiled warmly, setting his Blastoise plushie on his lap. "Alright. We're ready."
…
Two weeks later, the Round Table Studio headquarters was in an absolute frenzy of focused activity.
It was finally time for the closed Beta test.
In the main junction room, Kasavin and Raja Farzir were operating in flawless, synchronized tandem to ensure the massive logistical undertaking went off without a single hitch. Kasavin was stationed at the holographic table, rapidly monitoring the internal RTS network architecture and ensuring the game build was perfectly stable for external deployment.
Beside him, Raja was meticulously handling the human element. The Qerrian had run deep, extensive background checks on the thousands of applicants who had begged to be part of the test, whittling them down to a select group of highly dedicated gamers.
Raja ensured every single tester had signed ironclad Non-Disclosure Agreements and understood the strict terms: the beta test would last for exactly three days, and during those three days, every single second of their gameplay, decision-making, and telemetry would be securely recorded and sent back to the RTS servers for analysis.
Down in the heavily air-conditioned subterranean server room, Logan Kim was conducting his final rounds.
He was standing in the center of the "Pokémon Hub," a massive, dedicated cluster of physical servers designed entirely to handle the game's online features. Logan tapped his datapad, watching the green lights blink in perfect harmony as he ran simulated stress tests on the network. He checked the multiplayer routing, the peer-to-peer team battle synchronization, the complex data-packet transferring for Pokémon exchanges, and the digital gifting systems.
Everything was running flawlessly.
Satisfied, Logan wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and walked out of the freezing server room, heading back down the corridor toward the main studio.
Along the way, he passed a heavy, durasteel door. It was electronically locked and completely sealed off from the rest of the building. Inside sat the three Accord VR capsules.
Logan stopped in his tracks, staring through the reinforced glass window of the door at the imposing metal pods. A quiet, burning look of absolute determination settled in his eyes. Logan is a programmer. He won't run from broken code, he fixed it. He would figure out how to tame that dangerous technology. It was only a matter of time.
With a sudden burst of pixelated light, Gawain blitzed into existence right beside him.
"Sir," the AI knight chimed politely. "The Head of Design is formally requesting your presence in the junction room."
Logan blinked, tearing his eyes away from the capsules. "Ah, sure thing, Gawain. Tell Bem I'm on my way."
…
Meanwhile, millions of lightyears away, nestled deep within the glittering, hyper-advanced Core Rims, was the planet Vitrore.
Vitrore was a harsh, uninhabitable gas giant, but its people did not live on the surface. Instead, the entire planetary population resided within the 'Orbital Ring,' a colossal, man-made metallic rig that completely encircled the planet like a glowing halo of civilization.
Inside one of the medium-rise residential hab-blocks on the ring, a young woman named Vicky Donahue was practically vibrating with hype.
She was one of the incredibly lucky few who had been officially chosen as an RTS Beta Tester. Just a few weeks ago, she had simply been casually browsing the Avalon forums, which had rapidly become the absolute go-to destination for all galactic gaming chatter, complete with dedicated theory-crafting threads and newly minted speedrun leaderboards for dozens of games. She had seen the brand-new RTS announcement calling for volunteers, applied on a whim, and somehow actually made the cut.
Vicky's gaming setup was completely, perfectly primed. She had a mountain of salty snacks and sugary energy drinks stacked neatly on her nightstand. She had pulled up a random Stellarcast stream on her secondary monitor just to provide some comfortable background noise. She was buried comfortably under a thick, fluffy blanket, surrounded by pillows on her bed.
She was ready.
Suddenly, her wristband chimed. A high-priority encrypted message had arrived in her inbox. It contained the single-use beta access code.
Vicky let out a high-pitched squeal of excitement. She immediately inputted the code into her HelioPad. The download progress bar flew across the screen, finalizing the installation in seconds.
She took a deep breath, grabbed a handful of chips, and hit 'Play'.
The HelioPad screen went completely dark. Then, the official Round Table Studio logo animation played. A sleek, beautifully rendered silver broadsword fell from the sky, planting itself firmly into the center of a grand, stone round table with a satisfying, bass-heavy SHING.
The logo faded to black.
A bright bouncy 8-bit jingle began to play through the speakers, perfectly transitioning into a rich orchestral swell.
The darkness faded away, replaced by the polished visual of a man wearing a crisp white lab coat.
"Hello there! Glad to meet you!" the text box typed out rapidly across the bottom of the screen, accompanied by the man's warm, digitized voice. "Welcome to the world of Pokémon! My name is Oak. People refer to me as the Pokémon Professor."
Vicky leaned forward, completely enraptured by the charming, inviting aesthetic.
"This world..." Professor Oak continued, spreading his arms wide, "...is inhabited by creatures called Pokémon."
With a dynamic swoosh of animation, Professor Oak reached into his pocket and hurled a red-and-white Poké Ball onto the screen. With a bright flash of white light and a distinct, synthesized monster cry, a purple, spiky, quadrupedal creature, a Nidorino popped out. It stomped its feet playfully, its 3D-rendered sprite looking incredibly lively and detailed.
"Whoa," Vicky whispered aloud, her eyes wide as she stared at the bizarre, fascinating creature.
"For some people, Pokémon are pets," Oak explained, the Nidorino nudging against his leg affectionately. "Others use them for battling."
With another flash of light, the Nidorino was sucked back into the capsule. The Professor turned back to face the camera, adjusting his digital posture.
"But first," Professor Oak smiled, the prompt appearing on the screen. "Tell me a little bit about yourself."
…
Meanwhile, far away from the snowy, peaceful prairies of Friton, the harsh, war-torn reality of the Outer Rims continued to burn.
Deep within the dense, humid jungles of Planet Dagma, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and scorched earth. The extraction mission was supposed to have been simple. The revolutionary fleet had finally managed to lock onto Ula's encrypted commlink, slipping a covert stealth dropship past the Accord's orbital blockades to pick up their stranded operative.
But upon planning, the revolutionaries quickly realized that a quiet extraction was completely impossible.
Planet Dagma had become an active warfront. The indigenous Dagmani people, specifically the Asgardian warrior-caste led by High Priest Horus and his inner circle. They were dead serious about combatting the Accord Legionnaires.
What truly terrified the revolutionaries, however, was how they were fighting. The High Priests were somehow wielding an irregular power, summoning weapons of thin air and manifesting potent minerals out of the ground to crush the Accord.
Faced with this terrifying, impossible localized power, the revolutionary council realized they couldn't just leave. A simple pickup instantly morphed into a long-winded, highly complex diplomatic summit.
Because he had earned the trust of both sides, Ula had essentially become the sole diplomatic bridge between the heavily armed revolutionaries and the super-powered Dagmani priests.
Inside a deeply hidden, heavily fortified cavern system illuminated by glowing sun-crystals, Ula stood waiting.
"Ula!"
A loud, deeply relieved voice echoed through the cavern. Kalda Hilfec, the seasoned, battle-scarred leader of the revolutionary cell that had come to Dagma, rushed forward. He threw his arms open and hugged Ula tightly.
However, given Ula's massive, two-and-a-half-meter Neman stature and broad, muscular chest, Kalda barely reached his sternum. To Ula, it just felt like a completely normal, somewhat awkward side-hug.
Kalda pulled back, grinning widely as he looked the giant up and down. "Look at you! You've become fatter, old friend. It seems the Dagmani have treated you incredibly well while you've been stranded here."
Ula smiled, his thick, intricately braided beard shifting across his collarbone. "It is not my fault I had to enjoy myself with the local rations. Someone sitting back in the high council threw around the bright idea to intentionally delay my extraction and make my stay longer."
Kalda let out a booming, apologetic laugh, patting the Neman's massive arm. "Forgive us, Ula. We wanted to come sooner, but even for a simple pickup operation, the Accord has been absolutely gung-ho lately. They've tightened mid-rim security tenfold and have been violently painting every single partisan crime in the sector on us to justify their crackdowns. We had to wait for the perfect window."
Ula's smile softened into an expression of understanding. "I know. Come. I will take you to Horus. Follow me."
Ula turned, his heavy boots crunching against the stone floor as he led the revolutionary leader deeper into the cavern toward the Dagmani inner sanctum.
As they walked through the dimly lit tunnels, Kalda pulled out a datapad, glancing at his mission logs. "By the way, Ula. The lead network technician back at the base has been pestering me. He begged me to ask you where exactly you got the commlink installed in your ship."
Ula raised an eyebrow, not looking back. "Why? Is it because it kept failing to connect to the base frequencies?"
"No," Kalda shook his head, a look of genuine, profound disbelief on his face. "It was the exact opposite. The base couldn't anchor onto your signal at all because your security encryption link is way too tight. The technician was literally pulling his hair out trying to bypass it just to verify your identity. He said that if our entire revolutionary fleet had that exact same level of network security, the BSO wouldn't even be able to get a single trace on us."
Ula stopped walking for a fraction of a second.
A fond, highly nostalgic smile tugged at the corner of the Neman's lips. An image of a messy-haired, overly confident, and far too brilliant human teenager back on Nexus Prime suddenly flashed in his mind.
"It was a gift," Ula said softly, a warm amusement bleeding into his deep voice. "From a very annoying boy."
Kalda's eyes immediately lit up at the prospect of finding a master slicer capable of outsmarting the Accord's entire intelligence apparatus. "A boy? A prodigy then? Can we recruit him?"
Ula fell completely silent.
The muffled sounds of distant plasma fire and screaming engines echoed faintly from the jungle surface far above them, a harsh, violent reminder of the bloody, desperate war they were fighting every single day.
Ula thought of it for a second. He didn't belong in this dark, violent trench. He didn't belong in the crosshairs of this struggle.
"I hope not," Ula finally answered, his voice heavy with a protective, absolute finality.
He turned his gaze forward, resuming his long stride down the tunnel as he whispered a silent prayer under his breath.
"He is a good kid."