Weeks had passed since the Hades beta launch, and life at the Kepler farm had settled into a rhythm that felt deceptively peaceful.
A massive, industrial-grade carrier ship lifted off from the Kepler pasture, its engines kicking up a cloud of dust that momentarily obscured the setting sun. John Kepler stood by the fence, waving goodbye with a broad, satisfied smile.
At the same time, the Millennium Falcon descended from the clouds, its sleek form cutting through the haze. It landed smoothly on the pad near the house.
John turned back to his task, whistling a tune as he began herding the Muurbeasts back into the stable for the night.
"Dad!" Dorian called out, walking down the ramp with his bag over his shoulder.
John looked back, his smile widening. "You're back, son."
Dorian shielded his eyes, looking up at the trail of exhaust left by the departing carrier. "Who was that?"
"An exporter," John explained, clapping a heavy hand on the flank of a stubborn Muurbeast. "One of my old miner friends went into the logistics business. She offered to buy our surplus crops. I saw we had quite a large stock building up in the silos, so I figured, why not?"
Dorian nodded, falling into step beside his father. "Oh, okay. How is the farm?"
"Thriving," John said simply. "The soil here... it's like it wants to grow things."
They walked back inside, the conversation flowing easily between them. It was a comfortable rhythm, one built on years of shared silence.
After a hearty dinner of stew and fresh bread, Dorian excused himself and slumped onto his bed. The adrenaline of the day finally crashed.
His mind raced through tomorrow's checklist.
The Hades demo had been a resounding success. The data from the five alpha testers was gold. Bem and Logan were already squashing the bugs Lockley had found in the backend. His album, The Sun-Drenched Soul, was set to release in two weeks. The EMG Masquerade Party, his "payment" to Mar Raila was a month away. And an exclusive interview was scheduled right after that.
"There is so much to do," Dorian whispered to the ceiling, "and so little time."
He closed his eyes. "System."
Ding.
The blue holographic panel materialized in the air above him.
[Resonance Points: 159,432,800]
The number was staggering. The viral marketing campaign, the beta test, the forum engagement, it had all fed into the system like a high-octane fuel. A 100-pull on the Stardew Valley banner felt like pocket change now.
He sighed, swiping past the familiar pixel-art icons. He couldn't wait for the Hades banner to unlock. What he desired most wasn't a character or a skill, but the items. The godly artifacts.
Ambrosia.Nectar.Kiss of Styx.
He thought of his father's face at dinner. The laugh lines were deeper now. The wrinkles on his forehead were etched a little more permanently. John was only in his early 100s, middle-aged by standards, with another 70 to 80 years of natural lifespan ahead of him. But mining had taken a toll.
"I need something to restore his health," Dorian murmured.
He swiped to his Stardew Valley profile. There, pulsating with a faint ominous light, was the icon for the Mastery Cave.
It still bugged him to this day. The system said it had materialized. It existed somewhere in the universe. But where?
…
"AAAAGGGRRHHH!! FOR ASGARD!!"
The war cry of the Dagmani warriors echoed through the dusty canyon, a roar of pure, primal fury. They surged forward, a tide of stolen Legion armor and makeshift weapons, crashing into the retreating Accord forces.
Countless Legion trooper falling to the savage onslaught. They weren't prepared for this. They weren't prepared for the Dagmani, a race they had dismissed as primitive savages, to fight with such coordinated, terrifying strength.
A Legion frigate, its engines screaming, began to lift off, hovering just an inch above the ground. Several troopers scrambled up the boarding ramp, desperate to escape.
SHINK!
A makeshift knife, forged from scrap metal and honed to a razor edge, flew through the open cockpit hatch. It pierced the pilot's neck with sickening precision. The trooper beside him stared in shock as the pilot slumped forward, dead weight pushing the yoke down.
The ship lurched, then tumbled, crashing back to the ground in a cloud of dust and twisted metal.
Standing on a ridge overlooking the carnage was Horus, the High Priest of Bepoo. His face was painted with the blue markings of his god, and his eyes burned with a cold, holy fire. It was he who had thrown the knife.
"Kill the rest of them!" Horus shouted in the guttural Dagmani tongue.
The warriors, clad in scavenged Legion armor that had been crudely repainted with Junimo symbols, swarmed the crash site. They moved like a pack of wolves, efficient and merciless.
One Legion trooper, his leg torn and bleeding, managed to crawl away from the wreckage. He dragged himself through the dirt, screaming in agony. "Please! Spare me! I got kids and a wife at home! Please!"
He reached a dead end, a pile of rubble from a previous bombardment. He turned, his back against the stone, and looked up. The Dagmani warriors surrounded him, their weapons raised.
He prostrated himself, ignoring the pain in his leg. "Please..."
Suddenly, the Dagmani ranks split. The trooper looked up, hope flickering in his eyes. He thought they were giving him a path to escape.
But it wasn't mercy. It was judgment.
Five figures walked through the parting crowd. The Priests. The Irregular Solars who had brought their dying race back from the brink of extinction.
In the middle was Horus. He reached up and removed his helmet, a scavenged Legion helm that had been repaired with veins of pure gold filling the cracks. He let go, and the helmet didn't fall. It vanished into thin air, stored in an invisible inventory.
Horus looked down at the pleading man. He spoke in broken, heavily accented Standard.
"You never once spared my kind," Horus rasped. "Where is this generosity you demand when my people are at your end?"
The trooper's eyes darted to the woman beside Horus, Nehsy. She was rumored to be the kindest of the priests, the one who healed the wounded. He reached a hand towards her.
Nehsy's expression tightened. She didn't look at him. She turned her back, unable to witness what was about to happen.
Atum, the stout priest standing on Horus's right, stepped forward. He held out his palm.
Hummmm.
A solid block of gold materialized in the air above his hand, heavy and gleaming in the harsh sun.
Atum didn't say a word. He simply let his hand drop.
CRUNCH.
The gold block fell, crushing the trooper's skull instantly. The pleading stopped.
The Dagmani warriors cheered, raising their weapons to the sky.
"Take over the base!" Horus commanded, his voice booming. "Grab everything we can use! Weapons, armor, rations! Collect any datapad!"
The warriors scattered, eager to strip the base clean.
Horus knelt beside the body. He picked up the blood-stained gold block. He pulled a waterskin from his belt and carefully washed the gore away, his face grim.
"Atum," Horus said quietly, standing up. "You should not desecrate Bepoo's blessing with the blood of the wicked."
Atum shrugged, a nonchalant smile on his face. "Haha. I can just dig down for a bit and I'll find another one. The Dagma provides."
Horus frowned, storing the clean gold into his inventory. "These blessings aren't yours, Atum. They are borrowed. Just because only five of us can use this power... doesn't mean we can do whatever we want with it."
Atum just waved a hand dismissively. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, High Priest."
…
The digital landscape of the Accord shifted once again with the launch of the RTS Official Hub.
It was a massive, centralized forum that housed the growing legion of fans. The interface was sleek, minimalist, and distinctly "Arthurian" in design. Under the main umbrella, the Stardew Valley forum was moved to a sub-sector, still bustling but now part of a larger kingdom.
But the most active, chaotic, and desperate section was the Hades: The Underworld sub-forum.
The beta was over. The keys had expired. And the withdrawal symptoms were hitting the community hard.
[Thread: LET ME IN. LET ME IIIIINNNNN.]
> Zag_Main:
"I dream of the dashing sound. I wake up trying to dash. My wife asked me to take out the trash and I tried to use 'Cast' on the bag. RTS, please. Release the game."
> ThirstyForAphrodite:
"Look at this fan art I made of Athena based on FramePerfect's stream!
[Image Attached].
I spent 40 hours shading the shield. If the Devs see this, can I get a key? Please? I'll trade my firstborn."
> SpeedDemon:
"The movement tech is haunting me. FramePerfect found a way to cancel the spear spin animation, but we can't test it anymore! The run is evolving in our heads! I think I've gone senile!"
> Fish_Fucker_69:
"Everyone is talking about gods, but can we talk about the fishing minigame in Hades? It's not even fishing! You just... catch a head? A literal floating head? 10/10 Game of the Year."
There were wholesome interactions too. The Stardew players were welcoming the edgy Hades players with virtual cookies, explaining that "RTS takes their time, but they delivers."
…
Meanwhile, the physical reality of the studio was far more tranquil than the digital chaos.
The rain had started an hour ago; a gentle, rhythmic shower typical of Friton's temperate season. Inside the Junction, the team was ostensibly working hard.
Ross Dalle was slumped in his chair, staring mindlessly up at the massive glass ceiling. The pitter-patter of the rain hitting the reinforced panes created a natural, white-noise symphony that made the climate-controlled studio feel impossibly cozy.
"Dalle," Lin Liseli called out from her station, not looking up from her drawing tablet. "Is the SFX on the fishing rod reel supposed to sound just like that? It feels a bit... wet."
But Dalle didn't answer. He was too absorbed by the sound of the studio itself, the rain tapping on the glass, the distant whoosh of the wind turbines slicing through the wet air outside.
"Dalle?" Lin asked again.
Dalle blinked, snapping out of his trance. He stretched his arms high above his head, a satisfying crack echoing in the quiet room. "It's our break. Let's stretch for a bit. My ears are tired."
Arthur, who was reviewing code on the main screen, paused. He looked up at the grey sky visible through the ceiling. He took a deep breath.
"Dalle is right," Arthur said, pushing his keyboard away. He stretched and leaned back in his main chair, tilting his head so he could watch the rain streak down the glass. "The weather really wants us to be lazy today."
The team realized that if the boss was relaxing, they had permission to do the same. Workstations were locked, screens dimmed. For a while, they just sat there, enjoying the natural ambience.
Dalle began to hum a tune mindlessly, matching the rhythm of the rain. His eyes drifted to the window, watching the white blades of the wind turbine spinning in the distance.
"Hmm humm hmmm..." Dalle crooned softly. "Wind blowin' with you... like perpetual motion..."
Logan Kim, lying on a beanbag with a tablet, adjusted his glasses. "There is no such thing as perpetual motion."
Lin Liseli, who had her eyes closed, murmured sleepily, "Those wind turbines are so unbothered... it looks perpetual to me."
"Then you don't know what perpetual means," Logan retorted, though his voice lacked any real bite. "Thermodynamics, Lin. Energy loss is inevitable."
"Come on," Dalle said, still tapping his foot. "It's not hard to think that we can make it. Imagine a machine that just... goes."
Logan snorted. "The hardest part about making a perpetual motion machine... is hiding the battery."
Lin opened one eye. "So it's not perpetual?"
"Of course not," Logan deadpanned. "It's a magic trick for engineers."
The room fell into a comfortable silence again, broken only by Dalle's soft humming and the rain.
…
[Thread: THE DEVS ARE TEASING US]
> VoidWalker99:
"They haven't posted an update in 4 days. They are probably laughing at us. They know we are suffering. They are holding the game hostage to build hype!"
> Chill_Farm_Guy (Top Comment):
"Relax, man. Be patient. I'm sure the Dev team is crunching right now. Game development is hard. They're probably sweating over hot servers, fixing bugs, stressing out to make sure we get the best experience. Let them cook."
…
The entire team was virtually asleep. Dalle was spinning slowly in his chair. Arthur was tossing a stress ball at the ceiling. Logan was balancing a spoon on his nose.
They were, indeed, cooking. Just very slowly.
Several days later, the digital storefronts of the Void and the Heliostore were experiencing a seismic event.
Hades hadn't even launched yet. It was just a "Coming Soon" page with a few screenshots and a trailer. Yet, the "Add to Wishlist" button was being smashed so hard and so frequently that the Void's servers registered it as a DDoS attack.
The buzz generated by the beta event, the mystery of the keys, and the sheer style of the game had propelled it to the #1 Trending spot on search engines across five sectors.
The gaming community was on fire.
…
[Thread: I AM WILLING TO COMMIT HUBRIS FOR EARLY RELEASE]
> Zagreus_Fanboy_99:
"RTS, listen to me. I have credits. I have A LOT of credits. I will literally turn into Zeus and rain golden coins on your studio. Just let me play early. The gate is right there! Why is it locked?!"
> SpeedDemon:
"I have analyzed the trailer 400 times. I have mapped the entire first floor of Tartarus in my mind. I am currently running the dungeon IN MY DREAMS. Is this healthy?"
>> FarmFanatic:"No. Touch the galaxy. Or at least go on a walk in Stardew."
> Poseidon_Trident:
"Guys, I just made a replica shield. I am ready to block. Release the game before I try to block a moving hovercar to test my i-frames."
…
But the internet wasn't just losing its mind over a roguelike. The hype train had two engines.
While the gamers were screaming at the gates of hell, the music scene was set ablaze by a single notification.
Composer Percival.
The masked prodigy. The writer for the stars. The man who made Gil Nothos cry.
He had finally announced his own album.
…
@Composer_Percival(Verified)
Uploaded an Image: A striking, minimalist cover art featuring a silhouette of a boy standing in a golden wheat field, looking up at a dual-moon sky. The title reads: "The Sun-Drenched Soul".
Caption: "No more hiding behind others' voices. This one is mine. The Sun-Drenched Soul. Full Album Release: [Date Redacted]. Pre-save now on all platforms." #Percival #NewMusic #SunDrenchedSoul
[COMMENTS]
@BrianeTaleini(Verified)
"FINALLY!! My ears have been waiting for this blessing! 😭✨ I'm in it and you guys are NOT ready. The galaxy is gonna shake!"
@Maestro_Gil(Verified)
"It took you long enough."
>> @BrianeTaleini:"You'll love it!"
@Rita_Bralare(Verified)
"A masterpiece in the making. It is rare to see a soul so young write with such depth. 🌹"
@Mar_Raila(Verified)
"Bold. Raw. Expensive. Just how I like it. Can't wait to hear it... perhaps sooner than people think? See you soon, Composer. ;)"
>> @Music_News_Network:"WAIT. WHAT DOES MAR RAILA KNOW? IS HE PERFORMING AT THE EMG GALA?!"
@Nazir_Kal(Verified)
"The sun shines bright, brother. Can't wait for the world to hear what I heard in that studio. ☀️"
The convergence was happening. Two massive, usually separate fanbases were crashing into each other, creating a vortex of hype that centered squarely on the mysterious figure in Friton.
**A/N**
~Read Advance Chapter and Support me on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
~🧣KujoW
**A/N**