Several hours after the concert had successfully concluded, the five department heads of Round Table Studio found themselves standing nervously in front of the ornate door of Suite 501.
Liseli, having swapped her formal attire for a comfortable, oversized sweater, stepped forward and knocked three times.
"Come in, guys," a very familiar, slightly exhausted voice called out from the other side.
Liseli cheerfully pushed the door open, practically bouncing into the room. "Arty! Why didn't you join us tonight for–"
Her words died instantly in her throat.
Arthur was standing in the middle of the luxurious living room. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt and his signature grey sweatpants. His hair was damp and plastered to his forehead with sweat.
But it wasn't Arthur's casual attire that stunted Liseli and the rest of the team.
It was the background.
Resting on a velvet mannequin directly behind him was an immaculate, custom-tailored suit. Beside it, carefully arranged on a glass display table, was a row of sleek, polished metal masks. Lying casually on the armrest of the sofa was a vintage chrome microphone.
It was an undeniable, highly incriminating collection of Composer Percival's iconic equipment.
Kasavin stood in the doorway, his eyes darting from the metal masks to his young boss. A slow, deeply satisfied smile crept across his usually stoic face. He adjusted his glasses. "Hah! I knew it! The posture and the pacing were entirely identical!"
Bem and Dalle stood completely paralyzed, absolutely flabbergasted by the impossible revelation.
Logan Kim crossed his arms, staring intensely at the ceiling as he tried to process the sheer magnitude of the situation. He was mentally connecting the rapid rise of RTS to the sudden, explosive fame of Composer Percival. But no matter how hard he tried to calculate the logistics, he genuinely couldn't imagine how Arthur possessed enough hours in a single day to run a galactic gaming empire, let alone a secondary life as a record-breaking musical prodigy.
Liseli, however, was staring blankly at the masks. She blinked a few times and looked at Arthur.
"Arty," Liseli asked, her voice filled with genuine, innocent confusion. "What are you doing inside Composer Percival's hotel room? Are you guys friends?"
The rest of the department heads, already reeling from the shock, slowly turned to look at the Art Director. Their expressions instantly morphed from flabbergasted to utterly incredulous.
Dorian threw his head back and let out a bright, ringing laugh.
Standing by the minibar, Ratik let out a long, heavy sigh. She began pulling several expensive glass tumblers from the cabinet. "Do you guys want a drink? It seems like you are absolutely going to need it to process this."
"Ooh, I want one!" Dorian said happily, raising his hand.
Ratik shot him a terrifying, withering glare. "No!"
Dorian lowered his hand, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Aawww."
Kasavin pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the completely oblivious girl next to him. "Liseli. Do you genuinely still not get it?"
"Get what?" Liseli asked, crossing her arms defensively.
She turned her gaze back to Arthur. She looked at his sweat-drenched hair. She looked at the identical physical build. She looked at the custom-tailored suits. She looked at the row of iconic silver masks sitting right next to him.
The invisible gears inside her artistic brain finally clicked into place.
Liseli's jaw violently dropped. Her eyes went as wide as saucers.
"WHAAATT!!"
It took nearly twenty full minutes for the absolute hype, the screaming, and the incredulous stares to finally die down.
Once the five department heads were comfortably seated around the massive, plush living room of the luxury suite, the floodgates opened. A tidal wave of questions was unleashed upon their young boss.
Logan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He stared intensely at the silver masks on the table. "Why? Why are you revealing this to us now, Arthur?"
Arthur offered a soft, genuine smile. "Because I trust you guys completely. Also, as Composer Percival grows, I am going to have to go on more press junkets and galactic tours every now and then. It was getting impossible to hide. You are the pillars of Round Table Studio; you all need to know exactly where I am and why I am suddenly unavailable."
Kasavin adjusted his glasses, his analytical brain working in overdrive. "But how? I am pretty sure Percival and Round Table Studio rose to fame in the exact same timeframe. Building a revolutionary game and producing chart-topping music simultaneously? How did you possibly manage all of that?"
Arthur laughed, gesturing warmly toward the woman standing by the minibar. "It is all thanks to my lovely manager. To be completely honest, I have done very little of the actual heavy lifting as Percival. Almost everything regarding logistics, marketing, and scheduling is handled entirely by her."
Ratik poured herself a glass of water and shot him a sharp glare. "Do not even get me started on how much of a headache he is. Juggling his spontaneous, unscripted stunts takes years off my lifespan."
Suddenly, Liseli loudly gasped. She slapped both of her hands over her mouth, her eyes widening in pure horror.
"Oh my stars..." Liseli squeaked, pointing a trembling finger at him. "When we were making fun of Percival in the office in front of you all this time... it was you! It was you all along!"
Arthur let out a devious, highly entertained smirk. "That is right. I distinctly remember you saying that Percival was just riding the hype train of Pokémon, and that he should humbly bow down to us."
Liseli's face instantly flushed a vibrant, glowing shade of red. She frantically looked away, waving her hands defensively and acting as if she had suddenly contracted amnesia. "I... I do not know! I never said those words, I think! You have no proof!"
Dorian threw his head back and laughed loudly, the sound echoing warmly through the suite.
More and more questions flooded in. They asked about the GalaXtica interview, the GoldClick Records drama, and the spontaneous song for Iva. As he answered them all with complete, unfiltered honesty, the heavy boundaries between Arthur the Developer, Percival the Composer, and Dorian Kepler the teenager finally blurred into one unified person.
A massive, invisible weight that had been pressing down on his shoulders for years was finally lifted. He didn't have to hide in the shadows around his closest friends anymore.
After a few hours of deeply relaxed talking over expensive hotel snacks, the sheer reality of the situation began to settle in for the team.
Ross Dalle took a bite of a synth-cracker and looked over at him. "So, a question... what should we actually call you now?"
Dorian smiled warmly. "Arthur or Arty is perfectly fine. I like it. It is who I am to you guys."
Bem tilted his head, his stoic expression returning. "What about the others? The junior developers? Or... would you even reveal yourself to the galaxy now that your studio is a massive powerhouse?"
Arthur firmly shook his head. "No. You guys are enough. There is a very specific reason I have a different identity, and it needs to stay that way to protect the studio and my family."
Kasavin offered a reassuring, deeply loyal smile. "Do not worry, Arty. We will forget about this immediately. Outside of this room, we will never talk about this revelation."
The rest of the department heads firmly nodded in agreement, silently forming a pact to protect their prodigy boss at all costs.
Logan, however, narrowed his eyes. He knew Arthur too well. He saw the subtle, electric glint returning to the young developer's eyes.
"It seems like this is not just it," Logan said, leaning back into the sofa with a knowing grin. "Do you have something else to reveal tonight?"
Arthur's smile widened into a full, ambitious grin.
"Yes," Arthur said, his tone shifting back into the confident, visionary leader they all knew and respected. "Our next project."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek silver holo-puck, and casually tossed it onto the glass table.
…
Meanwhile, on the entirely opposite side of the galactic entertainment news cycle, the cultural juggernaut that was Pokémon was beginning to firmly take shape.
What had started as a highly anticipated video game release had rapidly mutated into an absolute, multi-tiered obsession. On the Avalon forums and the social media platform, the sheer diversity of the rapidly growing fanbase was staggering.
[Thread: Official RTS Merch Haul!]
PokéWhale99:
"Just dropped 5,000 credits on the life-sized Snorlax beanbag, the complete Kanto starter hoodie collection, and the limited edition Poké Ball replica set. My wallet is currently crying, but my soul is completely healed."
[Thread: Single-Mon Supremacy]
JustClefairy:
"I don't care about any of that mainstream garbage. I only bought the Clefairy mug, the Clefairy plush, and the Clefairy slippers. Clefairy Supremacy!!"
[Thread: Competitive Kanto Underground]
MetaBreaker:
"You casuals are too busy hugging plushies to understand true power. Have you guys figured out the optimal EV yield routing for Starmie yet? I'm trying to outspeed Alakazam in the player-run underground tournaments."
[Thread: TCG Trade & Grade Hub]
CardSlinger:
"Looking for a serious match in the commercial district today. I run a custom Rain Dance deck. No banned cards, please."
> HoloHunter:
"Bro, I'm not gonna actually play the physical card game. I'm putting it in a protective acrylic slab. This piece of card is a collection!"
While the collectors, the battlers, and the merchandise hoarders built their respective empires, a brand new archetype of player was currently taking the streaming world by storm.
On Stellarcast, a newly risen channel had recently exploded in popularity. The streamer had dubbed herself 'ShinySharly'.
Her descent into absolute madness had begun entirely by accident. During her very first playthrough, she had stumbled upon a Vulpix that sparkled and possessed a completely different, golden color palette. When she eventually evolved it into a shimmering, silver-blue Ninetales, something inside her brain permanently snapped. From that day forward, she became ruthlessly obsessed with Shiny Pokémon.
Every single day she streamed, and every single day, viewers tuned in just to marvel at how incredibly, agonizingly slow her progress was. While the others were already challenging the Elite Four or grinding out the punishing LeafGreen mode, Sharly had not even fought Misty, the second Gym Leader.
She was as intensely stubborn as she was determined.
Currently, on her live broadcast, Sharly was running her avatar back and forth through a single patch of tall grass on Route 4 for the ten-thousandth time.
"Believe, chat!" Sharly mumbled, her eyes bloodshot and glued to the screen. "If you believe, we can do it! The shiny energy is in the air today, I can feel it."
The chat, watching her continuously encounter regular, un-sparkling Pokémon for six hours straight, was a mix of sheer concern and morbid amusement.
>:"I literally cannot believe you actually subject yourself to this kind of torture."
>:"Didn't you read Lockley_Hyper's backend breakdown on the Avalon forums? There is a 1 in 8,192 chance to get a shiny variation to spawn! And there are over a hundred Pokémon! The math is entirely against you!"
>:"And we haven't even talked about unlocking LeafGreen yet. You are going to be stuck in Kanto for the rest of your natural life."
Reading the rolling text, Sharly finally stopped her character. She slowly turned to look at her streaming camera. Her hair was an absolute, frizzy mess, completely sticking up in every direction. Dark bags hung heavily under her eyes.
Suddenly, she reached forward and aggressively grabbed her cam, pulling it inches away from her face.
"I will get every shiny there is!" Sharly declared, her voice trembling with unhinged conviction. "We have already caught twenty-six, and we are making steady progress!"
She violently tapped her controller, opening up her in-game PC boxes to show the stream her roster. Box after box was filled with sparkling, alternately colored Pokémon. It was a statistical anomaly of sheer, brute-force grinding.
"You all can sulk and talk your math at me," Sharly whispered directly into the lens, a crazed, triumphant smile spreading across her face. "But by the absolute end of this journey, I will have the last laugh! You all will profoundly envy my Pokédex!"
The chat instantly moved like a rushing waterfall, unable to handle her raw, terrifying dedication.
>:"Absolute masochist."
>:"She is actually crazy."
>:"She has lost her mind to the tall grass."
>:"Chat... I can fix her."
>:"Honestly? Hot."
>:"Alright, yep. That's absolutely enough net for today."
…
Meanwhile, on an entirely different corner of the galactic net, another beloved Stellarcaster was currently going through a deeply emotional crisis.
FramePerfect sat in front of his camera, looking absolutely devastated. The usual bright, hyperactive overlays on his stream had been entirely replaced by a grayscale filter. A melancholy, painfully sad violin track played softly in the background. In the bottom corner of the screen, a digital bouquet of white lilies hovered next to two black-and-white portraits of his fallen comrades.
He was holding a funeral for two of his digital monsters.
During his brutal, suffocating LeafGreen run, FramePerfect had just suffered massive casualties at the hands of the 5th Gym Leader. Two of his most seasoned, high-leveled Pokémon, an Alakazam and a Pidgeot had been officially killed in action.
The live chat, boasting nearly four million viewers, was matching his energy perfectly. They relentlessly spammed crying emotes, black-veiled stickers, and a waterfall of 'RIP' messages.
FramePerfect had actually put a black suit jacket over his usual t-shirt. He cleared his throat, staring somberly into the camera lens.
"We gather here today to mourn the passing of a true hero," FramePerfect began, his voice thick with highly exaggerated grief. He pointed to the portrait of the Alakazam. "Spoondud... I remember when I first caught you in the tall grass. You were just a little Abra. You didn't even have your spoon yet. You just teleported around, completely useless, sleeping all day... but I saw your potential."
The chat flooded with animated tears.
"Then, you finally got your first spoon at the 3rd Gym," FramePerfect continued, solemnly wiping a fake tear from his eye. "I remember exactly how you watched the others get absolutely slaughtered in that electric gym. 'Fatass' and 'Bubbles' died that day. It was a massacre. But you didn't run. You evolved. You bent spoons, you bent minds, and you carried this team on your incredibly fragile psychic back."
FramePerfect placed a hand over his heart. "We journeyed across the entire region together, sweeping trainers left and right... until the 5th Gym. The poison gas... It was just too much. You fought bravely until the very last sliver of your HP bar." He looked down, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Chat... if we can get an F in the chat for Spoondud, please."
Instantly, millions of *'F'*s cascaded down the screen in a unified salute to the fallen Alakazam.
FramePerfect sniffled, then slowly shifted his gaze to the second black-and-white portrait. It was the majestic bird Pokémon, Pidgeot, proudly bearing the nickname Poop bomber69.
As he looked at the bird, the deep, overwhelming sadness on the speedrunner's face instantly vanished, replaced by a look of sheer, unfiltered annoyance.
"And then, we have Poop bomber69," FramePerfect sighed, entirely dropping the respectful tone. "To be perfectly honest with you... you should have died way back in the 2nd Gym."
The chat immediately paused its mourning.
"Misty's Starmie had you dead to rights," FramePerfect ranted, gesturing aggressively at the screen. "You were completely useless! But somehow, because chat hit a massive dono goal that forced me to use a super potion, you were artificially kept on the team. I should have used your roster slot for literally any other Pokémon. A Rattata. A Magikarp. Literally anything else! Yet, here we are."
FramePerfect leaned right into the microphone. "You are finally dead, Poop bomber69. You wasted so much of my precious EXP. See you in Tartarus, you stupid bird."
The chat absolutely lost its mind.
>:"YOOOOOO LMAOOOO"
>:"This is absolute slander to Poop bomber69!"
>:"I CANNOT believe you are saying this at his literal funeral!"
>:"Bro is committing posthumous character assassination! Let the bird rest! 💀"
FramePerfect ignored the outrage, quickly adjusting his collar and returning to his somber posture. "Anyway. A moment of silence, please."
He muted his microphone. The stream sat in dead, awkward silence for exactly ten seconds, entirely accompanied by the sad violin music.
FramePerfect unmuted his mic and let out a long, heavy sigh. "Haaaa... Spoondud really was the best of us."
>:"What about Poop bomber69?!"
FramePerfect read the comment, his eye twitching. He aggressively slammed his fist on his desk.
"FUCK HIM!" FramePerfect shouted, his speedrunner rage fully returning. "He almost ruined so many of our boss battles! I'm glad he's gone!"
…
The silver holo-puck hit the glass table with a soft click. Instantly, a sprawling, multi-layered digital roadmap projected into the air above it, illuminating the faces of the five department heads.
"And that is exactly what I want you guys to focus on for now," Arthur said, pointing at the first floating column. "Sky: Children of the Light. We are going to develop it for the normal format, basic VR headsets, and the standard rigging VR setups. However, we are completely excluding the Accord's capsule VR for this title."
Bem adjusted his glasses, carefully analyzing the technical roadmap. "A wise choice. The capsule architecture is still too volatile and heavily monitored by the government."
"Exactly," Arthur nodded. "But while Sky is in the works, I want the backend programming team to slowly continue making the proprietary engine simultaneously. We need to build our own infrastructure from the ground up if we ever want to tackle true deep-dive technology without relying on the Accord."
He swiped his hand, bringing the next two glowing columns to the front of the projection.
"While the VR integration and the new engine are being worked on in the background, we will simultaneously develop a standard, normal-format game. We are calling it Project Altair." Arthur pointed to the second column before gesturing to the final one. "And alongside that, we will begin laying the groundwork for a massive second expansion to our monster-taming world: the Johto expansion."
Kasavin stared at the glowing web of interlocking projects. He let out a low whistle, rubbing his temples. "Whoa. We are going to be incredibly busy, huh?"
Arthur offered a warm, reassuring smile. "We will take it slow. I want absolutely no tight deadlines for these projects. We are not in a hurry. You guys have already conquered the galactic market, so take your time and enjoy the creative process."
Bem nodded sagely, his expression completely stoic. "The best thing in life is made carefully."
Logan narrowed his eyes, staring highly suspiciously at the Lead Programmer. "That sounds way too deep for you. Where does this saying come from?"
Bem looked directly at him without blinking. "Me."
The entire team burst into easy, relaxed laughter. As the laughter settled down, Liseli leaned closer to the holographic table. Her sharp artist's eyes had caught something hidden near the very bottom of the projection files. It was a rough, highly detailed concept sketch of a massive, terrifying winged beast with thick scales and a spiked tail.
"Ooooh," Liseli cooed, her curiosity instantly piqued. She reached out and expanded the image. "What is this?"
Arthur looked at the fierce, majestic monster projected in the air. A dangerous, incredibly excited spark flashed in his golden eyes.
"That, is for another future project," Arthur smiled, "I called it, Rathalos."
**A/N**
~Read 14 weeks worth of Advance Chapter on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
~🧣KujoW
**A/N**