GAME DEVELOPER: BUILDING AN EMPIRE
A massive countdown timer occupied the center of the main screen. Every second felt like a heavy drumbeat pounding against the heartstrings of everyone in the room.
Across the globe, in countless live-stream rooms, the frantic pace of the "danmaku" bullet chat suddenly slowed. Millions of viewers held their collective breath, the silence of anticipation stretching across the digital void.
3! 2! 1!
As the numbers hit zero, a deafening sound effect—the screech of a dying engine—exploded through the auditorium's surround-sound system. The giant screen center-stage ignited with a blinding, flickering light.
The global live-stream launch event had officially begun!
Grant stood at the edge of the stage, his posture as upright and unshakable as a mountain pine. Beside him, Lin Yuxuan stood with her usual cool composure, her pale face devoid of any outward emotion. Only in the depths of her sharp eyes did a flicker of absolute, predatory confidence remain.
The host stepped forward, his voice vibrating with artificial excitement. "Next, making its global debut... an epoch-making masterpiece painstakingly crafted by Singularity Studio—Outlast!"
As the name echoed through the hall, the lighting shifted abruptly. The stage lights died, dragging the audience into a pitch-black abyss.
On the massive screen, a faint, wobbling beam from a digital camcorder flickered to life, barely illuminating the path ahead. It revealed a decaying, water-stained corridor with no visible end. The player character stumbled forward, every footstep treading directly on the nerves of the audience.
From the high-end speakers, a sound like static sizzled—the noise of a thousand tiny insects crawling across the eardrums. Whispers, sounding both miles away and right next to the ear, drifted through the hall like ghosts. Skin crawled. Breathing slowed.
In the footage, the player character moved with agonizing slowness. The floorboards beneath emitted a piercing creak, as if they might collapse into a void at any moment. Massive, mottled patches of dark, oxidized blood stained the walls, and the air in the room seemed to thicken with the metallic scent of rust.
Suddenly, a blurry shadow flashed past a corner at the end of the hallway with inconceivable speed.
It was a flicker—gone before the brain could process it. The audience's attention was violently yanked toward the void, as if by an invisible hand.
The background music stopped.
Total silence.
All that remained was the player's ragged, sobbing breath on the screen and a thumping heartbeat like a war drum.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The massive, binaural sound of the heartbeat vibrated through everyone's chest. In front of their screens, millions of viewers subconsciously clutched their own hearts.
> "Holy crap, is that heartbeat sound mine or the game's?"
> "The immersion is insane! I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my ribs!"
> "Help! I'm actually sweating! I haven't even played it yet!"
>
A piercing shriek suddenly tore through the silent darkness.
A distorted monster—gaunt, with a bloody maw and jagged, irregular teeth—walked slowly toward the lens. The player character fell backward in terror; the camcorder flew from their hand, and the night vision flickered out.
Darkness swallowed everything. The screen went pitch black.
The bullet chat exploded like a burst dam.
> "This game is toxic! I almost threw my phone across the room!"
> "Finally! A real nightmare come to life!"
> "Does anyone else's face feel hot? To those who said Singularity was finished—how's that slap feel?"
> "The 'horror' games from Zenith are literally child's play compared to this!"
>
Grant looked at Lin Yuxuan. The corner of her mouth curled into an almost imperceptible, satisfied arc. Arthur and Sophie stood up from their seats in the front row, their bodies still trembling from the adrenaline surge.
When the screen finally relit with the massive, blood-red title—OUTLAST—deafening applause erupted in the hall, refusing to subside for minutes.
> "Pre-order! I need to pre-order NOW! Game of the decade!"
> "Who said Singularity Studio was going bankrupt? Step forward and take your medicine!"
> "I'm never playing that Zenith trash again. My soul needs this."
>
Grant walked onto the stage with steady, measured steps. He took the microphone, and as his silhouette was cast large against the screen, the applause gradually died down. Countless eyes, filled with newfound respect and intense anticipation, focused on him.
"Outlast is more than a game; it is our team's dream," Grant said, his voice resonant and echoing through every corner of the hall. "But on the road to dreams, there are always shadows."
The atmosphere in the hall grew tense. The screen lit up again, but this time, it wasn't game footage. It was a series of screenshots.
They were shockingly detailed records of internal communications—emails and chat logs between Zenith Global employees and a "mole" who had been planted within Singularity Studio. The records covered Outlast's core gameplay loops, Sophie's art style guides, and even the narrative outline.
Grant displayed them one by one. His tone remained calm, yet it contained a monumental, crushing power.
"This," Grant said, pointing to the screen, "is ironclad evidence of Zenith Global stealing our creativity."
The screen shifted to show a massive database of internet troll manipulation. It revealed the pay-to-post structures of anonymous accounts that had been smearing Outlast across every major forum. They showed the scripts used to maliciously attack every member of the studio with vicious, unbearable language.
"This is evidence of Zenith Global's malicious, anti-competitive behavior."
Every word was a sharp sword. In the live-stream, angry emojis flooded the screen, and the comment sections went into a state of total, uncontrolled fury.
> "Disgusting! This is a cancer in the industry!"
> "Zenith needs to be liquidated! A company like this doesn't deserve to exist!"
> "They'll do anything for money. Absolute animals!"
>
Media reporters' pens flew across their notebooks. Camera flashes went off in a strobe-light frenzy, making the room as bright as day.
Finally, Grant displayed a call log. On the screen, one name was enlarged until it was impossible to ignore: Leo.
"This is Leo, Vice President of Zenith Global," Grant announced, his voice carrying the weight of a divine judgment. "Evidence that he personally directed the suppression of Singularity Studio. They used their market dominance to block our promotional avenues. They used the power of capital to try and strangle the future of a small, independent studio."
Leo's photo was enlarged on the screen—that once-insufferable face with its arrogant, mocking smile.
Zenith Global Headquarters — Vice President's Office
Leo bolted upright from his chair, his eyes bulging. He stared at the live-stream as Grant's voice sounded like a death knell from hell.
Leo's face turned a sickly, translucent white. The coffee cup clutched in his hand slipped, shattering heavily onto the polished floor. Shards flew everywhere, and dark coffee stains spread across the expensive, white carpet like a spreading wound.
"Impossible... This is impossible!" he shrieked, his voice cracking with terror.
The Public Relations Manager burst into the office, looking like he had just seen a ghost. "Director Leo! It's over! It's completely over!" The manager was shaking so hard he sounded like he was sobbing. "The stock price is in freefall! It's already hit the limit down! Public opinion has completely backfired—we are the number one trending topic globally, and every single comment is a death threat!"
Leo's body went limp. He collapsed into his leather chair like a pile of wet mud. Outside the office, every telephone in the building began to ring simultaneously—urgent, piercing, and relentless. The entire Zenith Building descended into a state of chaotic, blind panic.
The press conference concluded amidst a whirlwind of shock and righteous anger.
Pre-orders for Outlast didn't just climb; they skyrocketed like a NASA launch. In just twenty-four hours, pre-orders surpassed a staggering two million copies. It was a number that defied every industry projection, sending shockwaves through the global gaming market.
Lin Yuxuan looked at the data ticking up on the Spark backend and let out a long, soft sigh of relief. She looked at Grant, who was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, silhouetted against the city lights.
"President Grant," she said, her voice finally showing a hint of ease. "We've succeeded."
Grant gazed out at the brilliant city nightscape. Victory had come quickly and fiercely, but his eyes remained sober.
"Zenith won't go down without a fight," he said softly.
Lin Yuxuan nodded, her eyes flashing with a cold determination. "Perhaps. But we have already won the most precious thing in this industry: the people's hearts. The launch of Outlast is just the first step."
Grant turned to her, his gaze like a torch in the dark room. "We must be fully prepared. Lin, we are going to post the full evidence thread on the Spark Platform front page. I want every player to see exactly who they were dealing with."
Lin Yuxuan was silent for a moment. "In principle, the platform remains neutral. But..." She smiled a rare, genuine smile. "Who told us we were partners? Let's burn it all down."