Initially, the galaxy viewed the "Pokémon Master Challenge" as just another marketing stunt. But as the sheer scale of the ten-million-credit prize sank in, the mood shifted from curiosity to feverish obsession.
Ten million Credits was no small sum. Even for a high-level clerk on the Luofu or a mid-tier manager at Pier Point, amassing that much wealth would take thirty to forty years of disciplined saving. In a universe where everyone now stood on the same starting line—where victory depended on tactical genius rather than raw Level—the dream of a "one-battle windfall" became a universal siren song.
Inside the studio, the livestream lights finally dimmed. Julian Reed let out a long breath, the tension leaving his shoulders.
"It's finally over..."
"You were incredible, Mr. Reed," Guinaifen said, exhaling a sigh of her own as she patted her chest to calm her heart.
"I should be thanking you, Guinaifen. Without your energy and the community you've built, this wouldn't have reached half the audience it did."
Guinaifen smiled humbly. "We built this together. I just hope the sales reflect all that hard work."
"I have a feeling they will," Julian replied.
Early the next morning, the "Pokémon" ecosystem officially went live across the stars. The pricing was set with a deliberate strategy:
Pokémon: Mobile Version — 1,980 CreditsPokémon: PC Version — 1,980 CreditsPokémon: Real Version (VR) — 19,800 Credits
For a galaxy accustomed to the IPC's aggressive microtransactions and "pay-to-win" models, these flat entry fees were a revelation. Considering the unprecedented depth, graphical fidelity, and the revolutionary "Real" immersion, the community viewed Julian not just as a developer, but as a saint of the industry.
Julian sat in his office, his eyes fixed on the backend telemetry. The purchase counter flickered like a hyper-active clock.
One hundred thousand. One million. Ten million.
In less than sixty seconds, the "Pokémon" player base surged past one hundred million.
To a single planet, this was a legendary success. But Julian knew the scale of the Star Rail. For a game to be a "Galactic Hit," it needed to reach at least twenty times that number—a feat no game in history had ever truly accomplished. The previous record held by an IPC title sat just under two billion.
"Boss! Look at the trajectory!" Cai Xing rushed in, her face flushed with adrenaline. "The data department just finished the first-hour projection. If this momentum holds—even with the natural decay—Pokémon is on track to shatter the two-billion-player ceiling!"
Julian leaned back, trying to process the scale. "Two billion... what does that look like in terms of net revenue?"
He understood the math of the stars. In this "buy-to-play" model, 30% went to the publishing platform and another 30% was devoured by the Subspace Signal providers for network maintenance. As the developer, he would see roughly 40%.
Because Julian had entrusted the infrastructure to the Xianzhou, the Alliance acted as his shield. While they took their cut to maintain the massive server load, they were far more honorable than the IPC, who often demanded up to 80% of a developer's soul.
"According to our conservative estimates," Cai Xing began, her voice trembling slightly, "if we hit two billion units—and accounting for the higher profit margins on the Real Version—Arceus Studio can expect a net profit of over one trillion Credits."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Julian stood up so abruptly that his chair skidded across the floor with a harsh scrape. He gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white. "A... a trillion? You're certain there isn't a decimal point missing?"
Cai Xing nodded vigorously. "It's a conservative estimate, Boss. If the VR rigs continue to outsell the PC units at this rate, it will be even higher."
Julian reached for a cup of water, his hand shaking so violently that droplets splashed across his blueprints. It took three tries before he could steady the glass against his lips. One trillion Credits.
In his previous life, he was a librarian. In this life, he had been a clerk. Now, he was a man who could buy a fleet of Star-Destroyers.
"One trillion," Julian whispered to the empty air. "Just like that?"
He looked at the blueprints of the Kanto region on his wall. It hadn't been "easy." It required the financial might of the Sky-Faring Commission, the god-tier hacking of Silver Wolf, and a perfect political storm between the Alliance and the IPC. He was a pig flying on the strongest gale the galaxy had seen in centuries.
"Cai Xing," Julian said, his voice finally regaining its steel. "Tell the technical department to move to Phase Two. We start developing the Hoenn engine immediately."
"And the animation team?"
"Double their budget," Julian commanded. "The Xianzhou wants cultural impact? We'll give it to them. Tell the writers to integrate more Luofu-inspired legends into the side-stories. If the Alliance helped me build this empire, I'm going to make sure the galaxy knows their name."
Julian opened a new encrypted file. One trillion Credits was a lot of money, but to create the true Pokémon World—a living, breathing reality that could span the entire Star Rail—he would need every cent.
The Open Beta was just the beginning. The era of the Trainer had officially arrived.