Zaboru leaned back in his chair, now seated in his office on the 52nd floor of the ZAGE Tower. Tomorrow, he will be flying to America to visit the ZAGE Campus and meet with the USA team — a trip long overdue after spending an extended period in Japan.
"Huh, I can't believe it," Zaboru muttered with a stunned smile. One of his most useful abilities, the Emulator Mind, had just received a massive upgrade. Previously, this ability allowed him to conjure a simulated workspace inside his mind — a mental construct where he could visualize and plan. While useful, it was limited. His skills and thinking speed remained the same, and though it provided mental organization, it didn't give him any edge in output.
That began to change after he refined the Emulator Mind and combined it with another of his skills — Deep Memory Dive, which let him store and recall vast amounts of information instantly. Together, these abilities created a powerful mental archive. But after the official release of ZEPS 3 last Saturday, something inside him shifted — and the ability evolved.
Now, Zaboru could fully immerse himself in the Emulator Mind by simply closing his eyes. The real-world time would slow down significantly — the internal clock inside the Emulator Mind operated at roughly four times the speed of the real world. For every hour passed outside, he could think and work for four hours within. This meant he could accomplish in minutes what would take others hours.
But that wasn't even the most astounding part.
The upgrade also granted him a new function: mind-splitting. Inside the Emulator Mind, Zaboru could divide his consciousness into four independent versions of himself, each capable of working on different tasks simultaneously. One could be coding, another designing, a third outlining story concepts, and a fourth testing gameplay mechanics — all at the same time. It was like having four Zaborus, all equally capable, all hyper-focused. The efficiency boost was astronomical.
"This is a game-changer," he whispered to himself, awe and excitement mixing in his voice.
With this power, Zaboru now had more time than ever to brainstorm, refine, and expand his creative vision. He could run experiments, build prototypes, draft strategies — all within the safe confines of his mental world. However, the final step remained the same: translating that knowledge and those results into reality. Because no matter how advanced the Emulator Mind became, its effects only existed inside his head. The real world still required execution.
Still, the potential was staggering. Zaboru grinned. This was the edge he needed — and he intended to use it to its fullest.
Zaboru sighed and began preparing himself for the upcoming trip to the United States. His mission was to oversee the development of Diablo 2, which was currently being worked on using Windows XP systems. From the latest reports, it was clear that the team there was facing several challenges and needed his guidance. He knew his presence could make a real difference.
Friday 21 April 1997 Sonaya HQ.
Hikaru Kurata, Junpei Hoshida, and Ken Kutaragi sat tensely in the same meeting room, and across from them — symbolically and psychologically — was the object of their frustration, fear, and defeat: the ZEPS 3. It wasn't just a console; it had become their corporate nemesis. Today marked the first day they had enough downtime to even sit down and truly analyze the full impact of the ZEPS 3 release. Up until now, they had been overwhelmed — firefighting chaos from all directions.
Hikaru Kurata had been especially swamped over the past week, working tirelessly to calm and reassure the panicked shareholders. Despite being a major shareholder himself, Hikaru knew that the trust and mood of the other stakeholders were critical to holding the company together in a time like this. The launch of ZEPS 3 had caused a seismic shift in the market, and the impact was immediate: sales of the Game Station were plummeting at a speed that felt like a meteor crashing into Earth.
Ken Kutaragi and Junpei Hoshida had also been working non-stop, holding endless brainstorming sessions and strategy discussions, trying to figure out how they could respond. After countless heated debates and sleepless nights, Hikaru Kurata made a tough decision: to lower the price of the Sonaya Game Station from 40,000 yen down to 31,500 yen — a significant slash meant to regain lost market ground. In tandem with that, they also decided to reduce the price of their game cartridges from 9,000 yen to 8,000 yen to match the price of ZAGE's own titles.
This wasn't just a pricing strategy — it was a survival move, and everyone in the room knew it. The air was heavy with unspoken anxiety, but also with a faint sense of determination. They weren't going down without a fight.
Hikaru Kurata sighed, and Junpei said, "It can't be helped, boss. That's the best outcome we could've hoped for. At least this serves as a hard lesson — maybe we shouldn't have messed with ZAGE so aggressively. If we hadn't pushed so hard when the Game Station launched, we might not have crashed this badly."
Ken remained silent while Hikaru massaged his forehead, frustration plain on his face. "How… how did they manage to create the ZEPS 3? It's cheaper than ours. Does that mean they're really not taking a 50% profit from production costs?"
Hikaru had always relied on a consistent pricing formula: mark up the production cost by at least 50%. That was the baseline for a proper retail price. But ZAGE had clearly broken that mold. If their pricing was accurate, the ZEPS 3 was earning them less than a 50% margin — something Hikaru found outrageous.
Even now, with the Game Station priced at around 31,000 yen, Hikaru was still pulling a 40% margin based on production costs — a figure he only agreed to reluctantly. The idea that ZAGE was undercutting that so drastically and still dominating the market made the loss sting even more.
Junpei sighed. "They clearly do, boss. They're probably only making around 5,000 to 6,000 yen per console — maybe even less — based on production cost. And these consoles are a work of art. How can something this complex be so compatible with everything? The GPU, the CPU, a DVD drive, even additional cartridge support and an internet port — this console should be unstable."
Ken Kutaragi nodded in agreement. "It's hard to admit, but even the design of the ZEPS 3 beats ours. The controller even looks stylish, almost like a high-end gadget. And how the hell did they manage to release 13 launch titles? Thirteen isn't a small number. Sure, they've got a massive team now, but that kind of output shouldn't be possible. And they're still releasing multiple games each month?"
Hikaru Kurata, noticeably skinnier now with streaks of white running through his hair, leaned forward, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "The console... it's got Zanichi's fingerprints all over it. I'm sure of it. You'll see — I've known Zanichi since we were young. Back in his early days at Sonaya, he was something of a legend. People called him the 'Electronics Wizard' because no matter what was broken or how hopeless the tech looked, he always knew how to fix it. He had this uncanny instinct for making things work, even when they shouldn't. Honestly, a good chunk of his early inventions are still archived as some of the best products we've ever made."
He paused, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes distant. "But everything changed… I'd say after his second daughter was born, if I remember right. After that, his drive just... faded. He still did the work, still showed up every day, but the fire was gone. He stopped pitching ideas. No more innovations, no sparks. Just steady, minimal effort. Eventually, we moved him to the PC department — somewhere he could quietly contribute without dragging down the bigger picture. That was before I even created the Game Division. He was the head of that division initially, before Junpei replaced him."
Hikaru exhaled again, this time with a trace of admiration mixed in. "As for the games? That's the work of his son, Zaboru Renkonan. And I'll say this: that brat's imagination is limitless. Literally. For him, making 13 launch titles? That's nothing. He could crank out ideas like a factory if you gave him a pen and a quiet room."
Junpei and Ken Kutaragi exchanged glances, surprised. It wasn't like their boss to talk this much — especially not about the past. Hikaru was always terse, strategic, measured. But today, something had cracked open.
And then, without warning, Hikaru smacked the table — hard enough to rattle the pens.
The room fell silent again, tension thick in the air.
"IT'S UNFAIR! How can a father and son be this good? How are we supposed to compete with that?" Junpei looked at Hikaru, startled by the outburst. His voice trembled with emotion, but behind the frustration was a painful admiration they all understood too well.
Junpei stepped in, trying to calm the moment. "Boss, relax. No matter what the results say, we gave it everything we had. That's what sets us apart — that's what makes us Sonaya. We never quit."
He paused, looking around the room. "We've always prided ourselves on resilience, right? When others fold, we stand. We might be outgunned this time, but we're still standing."
Junpei gave a quiet nod and sighed. "If nothing else, we've proven that we belong in this industry. And even if we're not number one anymore… we're still in the fight."
Ken Kutaragi sat silently, arms crossed, but his expression was softer now — not defeated, just reflective.
"So be it then," Hikaru said at last, his tone calmer but firm. "At the very least, we hold the number two spot. We may have fallen, but we haven't broken. And as long as we keep fighting, there's still a future."
He leaned back, composed once more. For now, he chose to move on — not with surrender, but with resolve.
Meanwhile, at the ZUSUGA offices, Zanki Zagashira smiled to himself. "Phew, Zaboru is seriously scary... how can he pull something like that off?" he muttered. "I think that just convinced me to stop antagonizing him and start working with him instead."
Zanki grinned. The things ZAGE was doing might seem ruthless, especially to Sonaya, but he couldn't help but admire it. From an outsider's perspective, it was clear that Sonaya had pushed too hard — they provoked ZAGE, and now they were feeling the consequences.
As for ZUSUGA, things were going steadily. Their Reborn 16-bit handheld was selling well, and the games released for it had been well-received. Even more promising, third-party developers had started showing interest in launching their titles on the Reborn 16. ZUSUGA wasn't aiming for the number one spot — that much Zanki accepted. In the world of video games, there was no question: ZAGE was number one, and he had no intention of trying to dethrone them — not directly, at least.
Zanki chuckled. "Better not piss ZAGE off. Let's contact them in the near future and propose a collaboration. If they reject it, well, I can always take my ideas to another company." He chuckled again, the kind of laugh that carried a hint of confidence, almost bordering on arrogance.
Since childhood, Zanki had possessed an uncanny ability to sway people with his words. It wasn't just charm — it was a supernatural gift from his Zagashira Bloodline. His ability, which he dubbed "Voice Persuasion," allowed his voice to influence perception. When he spoke, people didn't just hear his words — they believed them. His tone made his statements sound not only convincing but almost unquestionably true.
This power served him exceptionally well in business. It was the secret behind his success with shareholders — no matter how tense a situation was, a few calm words from Zanki could dissolve resistance and bring the room back under control. People around him always felt reassured, even if they didn't understand why. It wasn't manipulation in the traditional sense — Zanki truly believed in the value of what he was saying. He just had a unique gift for making others believe too.
And now, as he considered the possibility of working with Zaboru, he smirked to himself. Zaboru might be a genius, but Zanki was confident that not even he could resist the influence of his Voice Persuasion. With the right pitch and the right timing, a partnership might not just be possible — it might be inevitable.
Zanki grinned. "It's not my fault if they agree to terms that are unfair or bad for them, right?" he said, then burst into laughter.
To be continue
Please give me your power stone and if you want to support me and get minimum 11 advance chapter and additional 1 chapter a week for 3 bucks considering subscribe to my patreon patreon.com/Zaborn_1997 Current patreon chapter 760
Also Join my discord if you want https://discord.gg/jB8x6TUByc