The next day, back on the sunlit surface of Friton, the Round Table Studio headquarters was humming with quiet, focused productivity.
Inside the central glass-walled junction room, the five department heads were currently enjoying a well-earned coffee break. While their young boss was lightyears away touring the galaxy as a masked pop idol, the RTS team had been relentlessly laying the foundational groundwork for their upcoming VR project, Sky: Children of the Light.
However, this morning, they had been greeted by yet another massive, unprecedented surprise.
Kasavin stood near the holographic projection table, looking at the live galactic sales metrics with a look of profound disbelief. Hades, a game that had already peaked and settled into a steady, comfortable sales rhythm, was currently experiencing a massive, explosive second wave of buyers.
The viral clips of Ivan's impromptu challenge at the Astra Nova dome had flooded the galactic net. Millions of people who previously had zero interest in gaming were suddenly overwhelmingly curious about the tragic legend of Achilles and Patroclus, driving them straight to the RTS storefront.
Kasavin adjusted his glasses, shaking his head. "I must say, it is genuinely unfair for the literal creator of Hades to casually drop a chart-topping, lore-accurate song about his own game to farm sales."
Ross Dalle, sipping his coffee on the sofa, pointed his mug at Kasavin. "I second that. Although, I have to admit, that string arrangement perfectly captured exactly how I felt when I first read the lore drafts."
Logan Kim chuckled, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "Arty seems to be having way too much fun teasing the entire galaxy with his two personas."
Lin Liseli laughed brightly. "I know, right? It's still so crazy to think about. Even worse, we have literally been standing around talking about Composer Percival right in front of him for months!"
Sitting quietly in the corner, Bem Lendu didn't even look up from his datapad. "I believe you were the one who talked shit about Percival the most, Lin."
Liseli's face instantly flushed red. She crossed her arms defensively. "No, I am not! And even if I did, it is Arty's own fault! He deliberately made Percival say those mean things about our studio to the press!"
Kasavin smirked, recalling the chaotic media cycle. "Ah, yes. The infamous 'one Percival equals a thousand-manned studio' quote. A brilliant marketing spin, in retrospect."
Liseli nodded vigorously, completely validating her past anger.
Suddenly, a soft blue light pulsed from the center of the table. Gawain's sleek holographic avatar materialized in the air.
"Statistically speaking, Miss Lin," the AI's polite, aristocratic voice echoed through the junction, "you have indeed spoken the most disparagingly about Composer Percival."
Liseli gasped, her jaw dropping as she pointed a finger at the glowing projection. "What?! You actually keep a tally of that?!"
"I keep a detailed log of all studio metrics to ensure optimal workplace harmony," Gawain replied innocently.
The AI swiped a digital hand, projecting a glowing leaderboard onto the wall.
[Studio Vocalization Metric - Negative Sentiment (Subject: Percival)]
Lin Liseli
Ross Dalle
Bem Lendu
Logan Kim
Kasavin
…
The entire room fell silent. They all knew Liseli had cursed Percival the most, but what completely shocked the department heads was the name in the number two spot. Dalle was right behind Liseli, trailing by an incredibly small margin.
All four department heads slowly turned their heads to stare directly at the Audio Director.
Gawain helpfully elaborated. "Mr. Dalle primarily cursed Composer Percival's name during the late-night production hours of the Hades Original Soundtrack."
Dalle sighed heavily, running a tired hand down his face as his colleagues stared at him in amusement.
"I mean... can you really blame me?!" Dalle defended himself, throwing his hands up. "The entire galactic net kept constantly comparing our OST to Percival's discography! It was an impossibly high bar to clear! I was sweating bullets for months trying to make sure our studio's music could hold a candle to his. I think I was genuinely the one most shocked when I walked into that hotel room and saw Arthur sitting there with the silver masks."
The other department heads thought about it for a few seconds. The immense pressure Dalle had been under to compete against his own boss's alter-ego was actually terrifying. They simultaneously realized that Dalle had every right in the universe to curse Percival's name.
Logan let out a loud laugh, raising his coffee mug in a toast.
Unbeknownst to Dorian, right there in the Friton junction room, his loyal team of department heads came to a quiet, unanimous agreement. Cursing the name of Composer Percival absolutely did not count as cursing their beloved boss, Arthur.
Therefore, complaining about the masked idol was still officially fair game.
…
Meanwhile, out in the vast, chaotic expanse of the galactic net, the aftermath of the Astra Nova concert was triggering a massive algorithmic chain reaction.
On Stellarcast, a highly respected channel named Vaativideos was suddenly experiencing an unprecedented, astronomical surge in viewership. The channel was famous for its incredibly high-production, soothingly narrated deep dives into video game lore. Lately, almost all of their content had been exclusively focused on RTS games, specifically Hades.
Because Arthur had packed the game with an endless, bottomless well of mythological history, Vaati practically had infinite material to work with. One of their most popular series was an extensive, 6-part deep dive analyzing the tragic history of Achilles.
Now, thanks to the Stellarcast algorithm linking Vaativideos as the immediate "Up Next" recommendation after the viral recordings of Percival's Astra Nova performance, millions of non-gamers were suddenly flooding into the lore videos.
The comment section under Vaati's 'The Fall of the Golden Hero' video was a beautiful, overwhelming mess of new and veteran fans.
> MusicLover99:
"I came here from Composer Percival's concert... I literally cannot believe this much deep, tragic lore came from a single video game. I am actually crying right now."
> LoreScholar_X:
"This is so good. The way Vaati explains the prophecy of the Trojan War makes Percival's lyrics hit a million times harder. The tragedy is so raw."
> NewFan22:
"Can you do a deep dive on Patroclus next? I need to know exactly why his death broke Achilles so badly!"
>> HadesSpeedrunner:
"Bro, he already made one. Go watch Part 5 of this playlist. Bring tissues."
As the lore spread, the mainstream media began to rapidly shift their narrative. The corporate news outlets that had previously tried to smear RTS or doubt Percival were now aggressively trying to capitalize on the hype.
Massive, glowing headlines dominated the news feeds:
"COMPOSER PERCIVAL DELIVERS ANOTHER MASTERPIECE: THE ASTRA NOVA CONCERT."
"SHOULD YOU BUY 'HADES'? THE GAME INSPIRING THE GALAXY'S TOP ARTIST."
"GAMING INDUSTRY ON THE RISE: IS IT TIME TO INVEST HEAVILY IN THE GAMING SECTOR?"
The sheer cultural impact of Percival's endorsement caused a tidal wave in the corporate gaming world. Suddenly, several massive Triple-A game studios began desperately reaching out to Ratik. They were blindly throwing blank checks at Percival's management, begging the Star Maker to compose the OST for their next bloated, military-shooter projects.
But the most explosive reactions were happening on the social media platform, where the fans were taking absolute, ruthless victory laps.
> Percival_Stan_Account:
"Where are the haters who said their toddlers could make his songs because 'We Will Rock You' was too simple? Can your dumb toddler make a deeply psychological masterpiece, you absolute jack-asses?!"
>> MelodyJunkie:
"@ClassicalSnob_99 Real quiet today, aren't we?"
>> Nova_Scholar_01:
"@MusicElite Hold this massive L. The Composer literally invented a new classical sub-genre on the spot."
Then, the hardcore lore analysts began to connect some highly suspicious dots.
> Mythos_King:
"Okay, but can we seriously talk about how Percival knows the Hades lore THIS deep? The 'cosmonaut' line being a direct wordplay on 'Argonaut' was insane. 90% of the active player base didn't even know what an Argonaut was until Vaativideos made a breakdown on it. How does a pop star know the deepest backend lore of an indie game?"
The comment section beneath that specific post instantly devolved into wild, unhinged conspiracy theories.
> Void_Watcher:
"Think about it. Round Table Studio is run by Arthur, a highly secretive, genius game developer who never shows his face. Composer Percival is a highly secretive, genius musician who wears a silver mask. What if they are best friends?!"
>> MusicNerd:
"Oh my stars, a mysterious composer and a mysterious game developer forming a secret artistic alliance to take over the galaxy. That is literally the coolest dynamic ever."
>> Shipper_Girl_99:
"Wait... two rich, misunderstood geniuses who deeply respect each other's art? I SHIP THEM."
>> FanArt_God:
"ARTISTS, MAKE THEM FUCK!!!"
[Attached: A GIF of a man violently throwing stacks of credit chips at the screen]
While half the internet hilariously began to aggressively ship Arthur with Composer Percival, another massive sect of the fandom was currently losing their minds over a completely different pairing.
> PopCultureTea:
"Can we please talk about how absolutely CUTE Percival and Juno Park are together on stage?! The chemistry is off the charts! 😭💖"
The comments under the post were immediately overrun by the ravenous 'Junival' shippers.
>> Junival4Life:
"THE WAY SHE CASUALLY SANG OVER THE SAME MIC?! I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING INTO MY PILLOW."
>> Aethelgard_Spy:
"I was in the front row of the VVIP platform. When they sang 'The Bones' and shared that single microphone... the tension was INSANE. They are totally dating. You cannot fake that kind of eye contact."
>> StarGazer:
"He practically purred on a live mic. RIP to my sanity."
>> Nova_Vanguard:
"If they don't release a full studio duet album together, I'm actually going to riot."
However, amidst the hype, the music, and the shipping wars, a much darker, highly concerning trend began to surface. As the tour schedule was repeatedly shared around the net, the reality of the final destination began to make the citizens incredibly nervous.
A single, highly-upvoted post began trending across the entire sector.
> Nexus_Only:
"Is Composer Percival actually sure the last concert of the tour will be held in Nexus Prime? The entire planet is a powder keg right now. #Riot #JusticeForJakor #UnmaskedLegion"
The user was completely correct. Over the last week, the political tension on Nexus Prime had reached a highly volatile, terrifying boiling point.
Historically, the massive, multi-tiered planet operated as an autonomous hub with its own dedicated local law enforcement, Nexon Security. The Accord usually respected this boundary.
However, the sudden revelation that elite Accord Legionnaires had bypassed local jurisdiction and practically taken over the planet's law enforcement right under everyone's noses had raised millions of angry eyebrows.
But the geopolitical overreach was only the spark. The real explosion happened several days ago.
A horrifying, highly classified data package had leaked onto the local network. It contained brutal, unfiltered evidence of an illegal Accord Legion investigation. The leak detailed elite troopers utilizing an unknown, unsanctioned torture device, a horrific machine that literally fried a victim's brain to extract information.
And the primary victim named in the leak was Jakor, a humble hardware vendor from the lower levels.
The leak sparked massive, unprecedented demonstrations across the planet. The people of the Lower and Mid-Levels were absolutely furious.
They abandoned their stalls, their factories, and their transit jobs, marching upward to demand justice for Jakor and the countless other victims of the Legion's clandestine cruelty.
It was a beautiful, heartbreaking display of unity. From the depths of the Zelva Crack, a massive, ancient structural fissure that allowed rare shafts of sunlight to pierce all the way down into the shadowed Mid-Levels, the sea of protesters marched all the way up to the pristine surface level of Norva Park.
It was a fiercely peaceful protest.
Millions of citizens from all walks of life stood shoulder to shoulder, holding hands in the streets. They completely ignored class divides. mid-level merchants held hands with soot-stained lower-level mechanics. Together, they raised their voices, singing the ancient Nexus planetary anthem.
Throughout the massive crowds, local musicians brought out their instruments to accompany the protest. The sweeping, melancholic strums of the Naralaika, a traditional, multi-stringed acoustic instrument native to the planet, echoed through the glass canyons of the city. They raised one unified, unshakeable voice against the towering spires of the Accord.
Justice for Jakor.
…
Meanwhile, in a secure rehearsal suite lightyears away, Composer Percival sat across from Ratik and the elite principal members of the Proximata Orchestra.
A holographic news feed was currently projecting the massive protests happening on Nexus Prime. The planetary unrest was impossible to ignore.
The lead conductor of the orchestra crossed his arms. He looked deeply concerned. "Composer, my team has been heavily inquiring. With the current political instability, will there be a change of venue for the grand finale?"
Percival shook his head firmly. "No. There will be absolutely no venue changes, Maestro. We are playing in Nexus Prime. Exactly as scheduled."
Ratik sighed, rubbing her temples. She knew better than to argue when the boy had made up his mind.
Percival leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked at the classically trained musicians who had followed him across the stars. "However, I completely understand the risks. If you guys want out of this final show, I will not hold it against you. You all stuck with me through the dirt and the mud in Mord Tida, and I appreciate that more than you know. You don't have to walk into a planetary protest for me."
A heavy silence fell over the rehearsal room. The musicians looked at one another, exchanging quiet, profound glances.
After a long moment, the first-chair violinist stepped forward. She was a strict, highly decorated prodigy in Proxima, yet her expression was incredibly soft.
"I want to do it," the violinist said firmly, her chin held high. She looked directly into Percival's mask. "I can see that this specific planet is deeply important to you, Composer. I don't know why, and I won't pry into your personal history. But playing music with you on this tour has been the absolute best time I have ever had in my entire career. I am not stopping now."
The lead cellist nodded vigorously in agreement. "I second that. In the classical industry, the elites treat us like we are just highly-tuned, automated Compadre units meant to perfectly read sheet music. You actually see us as artists. We will follow you, Composer."
"To the very end," another brass player chimed in with a warm smile.
The conductor, looking at the fierce loyalty of his elite orchestra, couldn't help but let out a hearty, defeated chuckle. He threw his hands up in a dramatic shrug.
"Well," the veteran conductor smiled, his eyes crinkling. "If my musicians are staging a rebellion of their own, I suppose I have absolutely no choice but to wave the baton."
The heavy, serious tension in the room instantly evaporated, replaced by a warm, incredibly lighthearted vibe. Dorian smiled brightly beneath his mask. Against the backdrop of a galaxy slowly tearing itself apart, the Star Maker had found his perfect symphony.
…
A week later, the sleek, heavily armored transport shuttle broke through the atmospheric smog of Nexus Prime.
Looking out through the tinted windows of the hover-car as it glided along the pristine surface-level skywalks, Dorian felt a heavy pit form in his stomach. The home he loved, the vibrant, chaotic world he had fought so hard to escape had completely changed into a tense, heavily militarized zone.
Instead of the usual dark-blue uniforms of the local Nexon Security, the gleaming streets were currently crawling with Accord Legionnaires. Squads of heavily armed troopers in pristine white armor were actively patrolling the upper-level plazas.
"They are patrolling the surface now," Dorian murmured, his golden eyes tracking a squad of Legionnaires standing near a high-end boutique.
Sitting across from him, Ratik reviewed the local datanets. "The Planetary Governor just sent a message to you. He gave you his personal thanks for not changing the venue. He said the people desperately need a distraction right now."
Dorian's jaw tightened. "Then he needs to sort this out. The people don't need a distraction. They need to be heard."
"There is a massive Mid-Rim Senate meeting scheduled for tomorrow regarding the Accord's overreach," Ratik explained softly. "That is why the streets up here are less crowded today. Everyone is waiting to see if the Senate actually holds the military accountable."
Dorian fell silent for a moment, the neon lights of his homeworld washing over his face. "Ratik... do you think the leaks are true?"
Ratik paused, looking up from her datapad. "What?"
"The torture," Dorian said, his voice dropping to a quiet, pained whisper. "I've... I've known Jakor since I was a little kid. I used to buy parts from his shop. I read the leaked report... but I couldn't find Ula's name anywhere in the file."
Ratik's eyes softened with genuine sympathy. "Do you need me to try and dig deeper into the military databanks? See if I can find a location on his partner?"
Dorian looked at her hopefully. "Can you?"
Ratik let out a heavy, defeated sigh. "I can't. I'm sorry, Dorian. I had resources, but highly classified Accord black-site records... this is entirely outside of my reach."
Dorian looked back out the window, his chest feeling incredibly heavy. "He was always so cheerful... Every time I was short on credits, I would put a tab on their store. They never rushed me to pay it back. I just... I hope Ula is okay."
Ratik leaned forward, placing a gentle hand on his knee. "Are you going to be okay to perform tonight? Do you need me to push the date back?"
Dorian took a deep breath, forcing himself to compartmentalize the pain. He gave her a weak but firm nod. "No, no. It's okay... I'm okay."
…
Meanwhile, deep within an undisclosed, heavily shielded subterranean bunker operating as the secret Revolutionaries HQ, Ula sat alone in the dark.
The sturdy, broad-shouldered Neman was staring at the glowing holographic leak report hovering above his desk. His hands were trembling. Somehow, his cheerful, lanky partner, Jakor, had accidentally become the tragic face of a massive planetary revolution.
There was absolutely nothing the Neman could say to ease the crushing guilt in his chest. Reading the exact specifications of the brutal neural-device the Legion had used on Jakor made Ula feel sick to his stomach. But his tactical, revolutionary mind couldn't ignore the terrifying implications.
If the Accord was repeatedly using that brain-frying device, it meant that the machine worked. And if it worked... did that mean Jakor had finally broken? Did he spill the secrets of the revolution?
"Captain Ula," a voice called out softly from the doorway. Another cloaked revolutionary stepped into the dim room. "The ship is fueled and ready."
Ula closed the holographic file and stood up, his face set in grim determination. He nodded. He needed to go back to Nexus Prime. One way or another, he needed to find out exactly who had leaked this report to the public.
…
Far away from the Mid-Rim, stationed on a massive, man-made planetary base serving as the Bureau of Stellar Order Headquarters, the atmosphere was distinctly cold and clinical.
Inside the polished obsidian meeting room, Major Kalzor Darvex sat at the head of the table. His pale silver Gunnossian eyes scanned the rigid faces of his subordinates. The escalating political disaster on Nexus Prime fell squarely under his jurisdiction.
Kalzor let out a heavy, irritated sigh. "What is the progress on finding the culprit behind the data leak?"
Lieutenant Valdi swallowed nervously. "There is not much of a lead, sir. The encryption scrub was thorough. Whoever sliced the files covered their tracks using advanced counter-slicing tech."
Kalzor laced his fingers together. "There will be a planetary Senate meeting tomorrow regarding our presence. We have given Nexon Security far too much time to handle their own localized situation, and there is no end to these protests in sight. Therefore, we will officially take over the martial jurisdiction of Nexus Prime tomorrow morning."
He slowly scanned the room until his silver eyes landed on a specific officer.
"Supervisor Verza," Kalzor addressed her.
Senior Lieutenant Verza Zal sat perfectly straight, her grey uniform immaculate.
"You already know the subject, Jakor, intimately, since this was originally your investigation," Kalzor stated. "I want you to report directly to Nexus Prime. You will reconvene with the local garrison on how to handle this insurrection."
Verza's singular visible eye glinted with a sharp, terrifying focus. "May I have authorization to implement the crowd-control strategies that I presented in the annual meeting, sir?"
Kalzor considered it for a moment. "You may. After you have assessed the real situation on the ground."
A small, dangerous smirk touched the corner of Verza's lips. She offered a crisp, flawless salute.
"Obey and prosper."
Kalzor nodded, dismissing the matter completely. "Next on the agenda..."