"He said he wants to make what?"
In the sleek, top-floor office of Unlimited Online Entertainment, President Liang stared at his subordinate, his expression a mask of disbelief. The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, glinting off the polished chrome of his desk.
"A VR game, sir," replied Director Lane, a tall, impeccably dressed woman standing before him. She adjusted her silver-rimmed glasses, her professional composure barely hiding her own surprise. "He was quite insistent."
President Liang leaned back in his leather chair, a deep frown creasing his brow. "And you explained the current market realities of VR to him?"
"Explicitly," she confirmed. "I told him that achieving a true, real-time gaming experience in VR is a massive technical hurdle, and that it's a completely different beast from simple 360-degree video. He said he was 'very clear and understood completely'."
A vein throbbed in President Liang's temple. He let out a short, sharp, humorless laugh. "He doesn't understand a thing! If it were that easy, don't you think the major international studios would have cracked it by now? We all saw what a disaster VR Interstellar was. The entire industry saw it. Is this kid living under a rock?"
Director Lane remained silent, her expression neutral. She, too, thought the idea was impractical, but she had learned long ago not to argue with a potential prodigy or a frustrated CEO.
"It's good for young people to have ambition," Liang continued, shaking his head with a dismissive air. "But there's a fine line between ambition and delusion. You can't build a game on talk alone. His work on Dark Forest shows he has skill—real, comprehensive talent. But that doesn't mean he can reach for the moon. He needs to face reality!"
He paused, taking a moment to light a cigarette, the sharp click of his lighter echoing in the quiet office. He took a long drag and pointed the cigarette at Director Lane.
"Here's the plan. You reply to him. You tell him that since VR is an unproven, high-risk market, we need to see a proof of concept before we release any funds from the support plan. We have a partnership with Synergy Tech; tell him we can provide him with their latest VR development kit."
He leaned forward, his voice taking on a harder edge. "That support plan is an investment, Lane. And we invest in profitable ventures, not expensive hobbies. VR is a black hole. Without a convincing demo, I can't sell it to the shareholders, and they'd be right to reject it. This isn't just about convincing me. It's about convincing them, and convincing the market that he knows what he's doing. Make him prove it."
"So," Leo said, holding his phone to his ear as he swirled a can of soda. "What your boss is really saying is, he wants to see if I can actually pull it off."
On the other end of the line, Director Lane's voice was apologetic but firm.
[I'm very sorry, Mr. Sterling. It's a difficult position for us as well. The technical challenges and the astronomical costs of VR development are well-documented. We've seen major studios try and fail. The market just isn't there yet. Players are accustomed to their PCs and consoles. We're concerned they won't be receptive. You should think about this very carefully.]
Leo listened patiently, a confident, almost predatory smile spreading across his face as his eyes drifted to the simple, powerful icon of the system's development engine on his computer screen.
"Thank you for the warning, Director," he said smoothly. "I am aware of the risks. Let me ask you a hypothetical. If I were to provide a case, a demo, that was truly impressive… what kind of support amount are we talking about?"
There was a long pause, followed by a faint, weary sigh.
[If the quality is truly revolutionary… the board has authorized me to say it would not be less than ten million.]
Ten million? Leo frowned. It was less than he'd hoped for. But then he remembered his own unique advantage. He wasn't a normal developer with massive overheads. He was a one-man studio powered by a god-tier system. Ten million was more than enough.
"One month," he said, his voice dropping, full of an unshakeable certainty. "I'll have a demo for you. And that ten million? That will be your starting offer. After you see what I can do, we can discuss a more appropriate number."
He heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. [One… month?] she stammered, the shock clear in her voice. [Mr. Sterling, that's… well. We await your good news, then.]
He could hear the disbelief warring with her professional duty not to question him further. He spent another few minutes getting the details for the VR kit from Synergy Tech before ending the call. A moment later, the distribution contracts for Dark Forest arrived in his email.
He ignored them. He pushed his chair back, leaned so far that it balanced precariously on its two back legs, and stared up at the peeling, water-stained ceiling of his bedroom.
This world had VR technology, but its games were a joke. He knew, with the certainty of a seasoned producer, what the root cause was. The development engines couldn't keep up.
It was the same problem his own world had faced. Studios had tried to port their classic titles—Skyrim, Fallout 4—to VR, thinking it would be an easy cash-in. They had all failed, creating clumsy, nauseating experiences. There had been a few successes, of course. Resident Evil 7 in VR was a masterpiece of terror. And at the absolute pinnacle, the undisputed king, was Half-Life: Alyx.
Alyx wasn't just a game; it was a paradigm shift. Its realism, its physics, its seamless interaction—it had changed everything. And it had only been possible because it was built on a brand-new engine that had been in development for nearly a decade.
A good VR game requires a great VR engine. And this world didn't have one.
But he did. The system's engine wasn't just good; it was better, more powerful and more comprehensive than anything even his original world had ever produced.
He was looking at a completely blank, untouched market, and he held the master key. Not to exploit it would be an insult to the system, an insult to the very identity of the man he used to be.
A slow smile spread across his face. He brought his chair crashing back down to all four legs and looked at his monitor.
"Playing a game on a screen is like watching a movie," he murmured to the empty room. "People are getting tired of just watching."
"It's time someone invited them inside."
PLS SUPPORT ME AND THROW POWERSTONES .