June arrived quietly, yet time seemed to accelerate without warning.
In an industry as volatile as gaming, a single month was enough for tides to shift. Trends changed, audiences moved on, and opportunists rushed in the moment they smelled profit. This June was no exception—especially for Northstar Games.
As Northstar's influence expanded, a wave of imitation followed.
Across the market, pirated and copycat games began appearing in bulk, shamelessly mimicking Northstar's titles. Some were crude, others surprisingly polished, but the intent was always the same—ride the momentum without paying the price of innovation.
The most obvious offender was a mobile party game called Star Party.
On the surface, it claimed to be "original." In reality, anyone who had ever played Animal Party could tell immediately—the mechanics, pacing, character proportions, and even the physics were nearly identical. While the animals weren't exact copies, the resemblance hovered at an uncomfortable eighty to ninety percent similarity.
It was imitation in everything but name.
Web-based games were even worse.
Several new titles surfaced bearing variations of the name Neon Blade, each tacking on flashy suffixes while borrowing almost everything else from Neon Blade: Echoes of Lumen. Character designs were blatantly recycled. Some games even lifted main characters directly, changing their names only slightly—homophones, altered spellings, shallow disguises.
To an uninformed player, these web games looked like officially licensed spin-offs.
When Vivian Frost first heard the reports, Ethan Reed expected anger.
After all, these were Northstar's creations—years of effort, risk, and polish being gutted and repackaged by strangers. Anyone else would have slammed the table.
But Vivian didn't.
Instead, she listened quietly, reviewed the data, and smiled faintly.
"The domestic market has always been like this," she said calmly. "I've been here long enough to understand it. They don't want to create—only to copy. Let them try."
She paused, eyes sharp.
"No matter how closely they imitate, they'll never surpass the original."
Her confidence wasn't arrogance. It was certainty.
Still, Northstar wasn't without problems.
As their catalog grew, staffing became the company's biggest bottleneck. Managing multiple projects stretched internal teams thin. Fortunately, most of Northstar's releases were standalone single-player titles, requiring minimal long-term maintenance.
Even Stardew Valley-style online components had relatively small active user bases, keeping server strain manageable.
However, one major development quietly reshaped the landscape.
Northstar officially authorized two characters from Neon Blade: Echoes of Lumen for use in a high-profile MOBA mobile game.
The partner?
Tencent.
The deal granted Tencent the image rights for Lily Morgan and Logan Fairchild—two of the franchise's most iconic characters.
The authorization fee alone reached an astonishing forty million yuan.
And that wasn't even a full license.
Tencent received usage rights only. Any alterations—skins, alternate designs, thematic reworks—would require separate negotiations later. No unauthorized changes. No character distortion. Absolute creative control remained with Northstar.
Northstar made a fortune.
Tencent, however, lost nothing.
Because Neon Blade was no longer just a game.
StarForge Entertainment had already finalized the script for its live-action adaptation and publicly announced a 120-million-yuan production budget. This wasn't cheap web content—it was a full-scale Myth-Arc fantasy adaptation.
Costumes, environments, choreography, visual effects—everything demanded premium quality.
Tencent seized the timing perfectly.
By featuring officially authorized versions of Lily Morgan and Logan Fairchild, they attracted massive attention while positioning themselves for future monetization.
If the live-action series succeeded—and all indicators suggested it would—Tencent could later negotiate commercial skin rights, turning character outfits into a goldmine.
Cold elegance. Lethal strength. Massive fan appeal.
Selling skins would be inevitable—and insanely profitable.
As a result, even though Northstar's official channels stayed silent, its influence was everywhere.
Industry insiders finally realized something important.
Without flashy press conferences or aggressive marketing, Northstar Games had become unavoidable.
Its market value might not rival established giants yet—but its presence?
Unmistakable.
By mid-June, casting preparations for Neon Blade were complete.
Open auditions began, and StarForge Entertainment publicly tagged Ethan Reed on their Official Blog, initiating an online interaction.
Ethan never replied.
In fact, Northstar had gone completely quiet.
Its mascot, Ethan himself, and even the official blog—all seemingly vanished overnight.
Yet strangely, the silence only fueled more attention.
Then, on June 18th, something unexpected detonated across the anime community.
Mooncrest Studio, a respected animation powerhouse known for adapting novels into anime, suddenly announced a brand-new project.
Alongside the announcement, they released early character concept art.
And chaos followed.
A sharp-eyed older woman with short hair.
A muscular man with an unsettling silhouette.
Dark, damp environments that felt dangerous and claustrophobic.
Strange weapons.
Multi-eyed spider-like beings.
Small girls with disproportionate, gorilla-like arms.
The forums exploded.
"What novel is this adapting?"
"The art is incredible, but why do they have ports on their necks?"
"Those facial lines… are they cybernetic?"
"Is this even human?"
"Anyone know if this is an original work?"
Mooncrest Studio had a reputation.
They respected source material. They valued storytelling. Their art quality was consistently high.
Because of that, fans voluntarily spread the news, promoting the mysterious anime without being asked.
Two days later—June 20th—Mooncrest released the finalized character designs.
The reaction was instant.
Among the reveals was a woman with gradient, rainbow-tinted hair—neither fully white nor pink, shifting subtly under light.
She was stunning.
Not generic. Not familiar. Unmistakably unique.
There was no trace of mass-produced animation aesthetics. Every line felt intentional. Every detail deliberate.
For domestic viewers accustomed to mediocrity, it was overwhelming.
"Can we really get a female lead like this?"
"This feels international."
"Art doesn't have borders—why should animation?"
By evening, Mooncrest finally unveiled the project details.
---
[Cyberpunk: Edgewalker]
Producer: Mooncrest Studio
Publisher: Northstar Games
Chief Animation Director: Ethan Reed
Episodes: 10
Music: Ethan Reed
---
Confusion spread instantly.
"Ethan Reed? Never heard of him in anime."
"Wasn't Mooncrest's director Rachel Quinn?"
"That name sounds familiar…"
Then realization struck.
"Wait—Ethan Reed?"
"Northstar's Ethan Reed?!"
"The game company Northstar?!"
And suddenly, the entire community understood.
Shock turned into anticipation.
Cyberpunk: Edgewalker would premiere on Sunday.
Behind the scenes, Ethan worked relentlessly on final drafts—anxious, exhausted, and strangely afraid of the moment it would go live.
For the first time in a long while, the industry wasn't sure what to expect.
And that uncertainty?
Was exactly why everyone was watching.
--------------------------------
Extra chapters available on patreon 🔥🔥🔥
patreon.com/Samurai492
__________________________________