Interastral Peace Corporation. Market Development Division.
Scott sat in his spacious, well-lit office, every inch of him immaculate. His suit was pressed, his tie knotted without a crease out of place, and a freshly ground cup of coffee sat on his desk.
His expression, however, was anything but composed.
"Say that again."
His voice was low, but the cold menace that came through his teeth made the subordinate standing across the desk instinctively take a step back.
"M-Mr. Scott, the data... the data is accurate. Under the Stellar Sky's new release, Honkai Impact 3rd. First-day downloads crossed three million. Daily active users holding steady above eight hundred thousand. User ratings..." The subordinate swallowed. "Very high. Across the board."
The air in the office seemed to solidify.
Scott said nothing.
He simply stared at the game icon on his monitor, a white silhouette of a girl seen from behind, with the clean title beneath it: Honkai Impact 3rd.
His fingers began tapping on the desk. Once. Twice. Three times.
The rhythm made his subordinate's skin crawl.
"I remember," Scott said at last, "that three months ago, your report told me this studio was on the verge of bankruptcy. Ready for acquisition at any time."
Beads of sweat appeared on the subordinate's forehead. "Yes, that's right. Their financials were in terrible shape at the time. Their previous game launched and within two weeks we..."
"We buried it."
Scott finished the sentence for him. The corner of his mouth even curved upward slightly.
"I remember. What was that game called? Chronicles of Stardust? I personally arranged the troll campaign. Daily volume of negative reviews was higher than their entire daily active user count.
The comment sections were completely overrun. The director even posted an apology to his followers on social media. And then? Studio in debt. We moved in for the acquisition."
The smile deepened, but his eyes held nothing behind it.
"And now you're telling me that studio, the one I personally put in the ground, has released a game with eight hundred thousand daily users and outstanding ratings?"
The subordinate had stopped speaking entirely.
Scott rose from his chair and turned his back to the room.
Beyond the window lay the most prosperous view the city had to offer. He had stood at this window countless times over the years, looking down at the failures he had left beneath him.
His rise had always been exactly that: a climb built on the ruin of others.
He had been nineteen when he turned his own father in. His father had raised a cup to him from behind bars and said, well done, son. In that moment, Scott understood something clearly: conscience was the most useless thing a person could carry.
When he wanted his brother's position, he spent three months constructing a scheme that had him reassigned to a dead-end post in the middle of nowhere. Then he walked into that office without a second thought.
Every step up had been stained with someone else's blood.
Scott didn't care. The only thing he had ever cared about was how much further he could climb.
Interastral Peace Corporation had its eye on the studio's talent. The young artists, the technically gifted Dan Heng, and those two, Kiana and Mei, who were rumored to have connections worth paying attention to. If the acquisition went through and he brought those people under his wing, it would be a significant mark in his favor.
A promotion. A better title. More authority. A bigger office.
Everything had been on track.
Until now.
"The person running that studio," Scott said abruptly. "What's his name?"
"Ar-Arthur."
"Arthur." Scott repeated the name slowly, as if tasting it.
"The previous games, were those his projects too?"
"Yes. The ones we took down before, all of them were his."
"Interesting."
Scott turned back around. The last trace of his smile was gone. What remained was the particular look of a predator studying its next move.
"Someone I've personally put down three times, and he keeps getting back up. And now he's made something like this."
He walked back to his desk and tapped the game icon lightly with one finger.
"Dig," he said. Just the one word.
"Into what?"
"His funding. Where the money came from. Where the technology came from. Whether there's outside support. Whether someone's been injecting capital. Whether there's..." Scott narrowed his eyes. "Someone behind him."
"A small studio on the edge of bankruptcy doesn't produce something of this quality out of nowhere. Either someone's been bankrolling them, or something doesn't add up."
"Understood!" The subordinate left with the energy of someone who had just been granted a reprieve, barely stopping short of running out the door.
Scott settled back into his chair, hands folded and resting on his knees.
"Under the Stellar Sky," he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue quietly. The corner of his mouth curled again, slowly.
There was something very familiar in that expression.
He had faced too many opponents like this to count. The young ones with their dreams. The fools who believed talent alone was enough to change the world. The ones who had wept in front of him, begged on their knees, and ultimately vanished from the industry without a trace.
They all shared one thing in common: the belief that if you worked hard enough, you could win.
Foolish.
In this world, winning had only ever meant one thing: being more ruthless than everyone else.
Scott opened his desk drawer and retrieved an encrypted communicator. He entered a short string of commands addressed to an outsourcing team he had used many times before, specialists in managing online public opinion.
The message was brief.
"New target: Under the Stellar Sky Studio. Project: Honkai Impact 3rd. Collect all in-game material that can be framed as plagiarism. Prepare the first wave of public attacks. Investigate the backgrounds of the core team. Dig up anything usable on the studio. If there's nothing, create it. No budget ceiling. Results first."
Send.
Scott leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
Before long, there would be another failure to add to the list.
And he would keep climbing.
That was the only thing he had ever believed in.