The summer heat had not yet faded when the final cut of Cyberpunk: Edgerunners was delivered.
Inside the headquarters of Northstar Games, the lights were still on long past midnight. Screens glowed in the dark office, reflecting off tired faces. Months of sleepless nights had finally come to an end.
"Edgerunners is finished," Vivian Frost said as she stood before Ethan Reed. "We've talked to several video streaming platforms. But they all insist on exclusivity."
Ethan leaned back in his chair, calm as ever. "How did negotiations go?"
"I quoted 2 million per episode," Vivian replied. "Several of them went completely silent."
It was mid-August—the moment their three-month gamble would finally face the market.
Mooncrest Studio had poured everything into this project. When Rachel Quinn delivered the final master copy, she looked like someone who had survived a battlefield. Greasy hair. Pale skin. Dark circles under her eyes.
Ethan almost laughed.
If she were thrown into a zoo, someone might mistake her for a rare endangered creature from overwork.
But she had done it.
They had all done it.
---
The Cost of Ambition
Most domestic animation sold for around one million per episode. That was the market rate.
But Edgerunners was different.
The visuals were cinematic. The action choreography was brutal and stylish. The sound design alone felt like a full-scale film production.
Ethan personally invested over 400,000 into music production.
He purchased professional sound packs, paid licensing fees, and hired a full studio team. He even tracked down an independent online singer to record the theme song:
"I Really Want to Stay at Your House."
At first, the recording sessions were painful.
The singer had a beautiful tone—ethereal and fragile—but zero professional training. She went off-key constantly. Breath control was unstable. Timing was inconsistent.
But Ethan believed in texture more than perfection.
After weeks of tuning, mixing, and mastering, the final result was stunning.
The moment the track played alongside the closing montage, everyone in the studio fell silent.
It felt like riding alone on a motorcycle under neon moonlight.
Empty highway.
City lights flickering in the distance.
Reality bending.
The kind of loneliness that makes your chest hurt.
Shiromono Records—the thirteen-member music team responsible for several major projects—was so impressed by Ethan's musical instinct that they agreed to be acquired entirely by Northstar Games.
The cost?
Four million.
Paid by Vivian without hesitation.
Music equipment alone cost them more than most small animation studios. One professional recording setup exceeded 700,000. Instruments, copyright fees, mixing software—it all added up.
But Ethan didn't hesitate.
Because he wasn't building just an anime.
He was building a world.
---
Voice, Identity, and Precision
Casting voice actors was another battlefield.
Rebecca's voice actress was brought back from a previous hit project. She had that sharp, chaotic energy perfect for the character.
David's voice actor was a veteran from live-action film and television.
He was older in real life—but when he tightened his throat slightly, his voice became youthful and raw.
Professional.
Clean.
Powerful.
Ethan listened to the final cut and smiled.
This wasn't just animation. It was cinema.
---
Negotiations
"BiliZone liked it," Vivian reported. "They agreed the quality justifies 2 million per episode—but only if it's exclusive."
"What about iQiyi?" Ethan asked.
"They have money. But they insist on weekly releases for members. No full drop. They want to stretch engagement."
Ethan nodded.
Typical platform logic.
"What about Tencent?"
Vivian hesitated.
"They offered 4.5 million per episode."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"That's… generous."
"Yes," Vivian said. "But after episode one, viewers would need to pay an additional 3 yuan per episode—even if they're already members."
Silence.
Ethan rubbed his forehead.
Classic strategy.
Short-term profit. Long-term backlash.
He had seen this model collapse before.
"We won't burn goodwill for quick cash," he said calmly.
Vivian sniffed lightly. "If we go under 2 million, we lose money."
"We're not thinking small enough," Ethan replied.
Vivian blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"You don't actually believe Edgerunners is only for domestic release, do you?"
She froze.
Ethan continued:
"This isn't just an anime. It's marketing for 2077."
The real objective wasn't licensing profit.
It was brand ignition.
The global promotion budget for the upcoming game Cyberpunk 2077 exceeded 100 million dollars.
But Ethan believed something bold:
A powerful story could ignite more hype than any advertisement campaign.
Arcane had proven it.
Now it was their turn.
---
The Decision
"Contact Steam," Ethan ordered. "Ask them to connect us with international platforms."
Vivian nodded immediately.
Within days, they were introduced to a Netflix representative—Mr. Tross.
He requested the first three episodes.
They sent them.
No hesitation.
But domestically, Ethan made his choice.
"We go with BiliZone," he said. "Exclusive. Raise it to 2.6 million per episode. Ten episodes released at once."
Vivian negotiated relentlessly.
By afternoon, she returned with a simple hand sign.
"Done."
BiliZone agreed.
2.6 million per episode.
Episode one free.
The rest behind premium membership.
Everyone wins.
Ethan stood up slowly.
The moment felt strangely quiet.
Months of risk.
Millions invested.
Sleepless nights.
Now it was time.
---
Promotion Begins
"Tell Daniel to prepare," Ethan said. "Put Edgerunners ads into all our active games."
Banner integrations.
Login screens.
Cinematic trailers embedded directly inside game clients.
Northstar Games' entire ecosystem shifted.
This wasn't marketing.
This was invasion.
They didn't wait for Netflix's reply.
They didn't wait for foreign validation.
They would test the explosion at home first.
---
The First Gift
Ethan walked toward the glass wall overlooking the city skyline.
Neon lights flickered in the distance.
Rain threatened to fall.
Behind him, the entire team waited.
He turned.
Smiled.
Then clapped once.
"Players," he said softly.
"Are you ready for the first gift Northstar Games has prepared for you?"
The launch timer began ticking.
Countdown banners flooded BiliZone's homepage.
Music previews spread across SharkStream and MeowCast.
Fan discussions ignited on the Official Blog.
Clips leaked.
Memes formed instantly.
Anticipation rose.
Then—
Midnight struck.
The screen turned black.
Neon letters appeared slowly.
A distorted radio voice whispered.
Gunshots echoed.
Synth beats rose.
And the world saw it for the first time.
---
WELCOME TO NIGHT CITY.
---
Within hours:
Server traffic surged.
Social media exploded.
Reaction videos multiplied.
Fan art began appearing instantly.
By morning, the theme song was trending.
By afternoon, viewers were crying.
By evening, hashtags dominated.
BiliZone's premium memberships spiked.
People binge-watched all ten episodes.
They didn't expect what they felt.
They expected action.
They received tragedy.
They expected cool cyberpunk visuals.
They received emotional devastation.
---
Ethan sat silently in his office, watching analytics rise.
He didn't smile.
He simply whispered:
"It begins."
Because this was never just about an anime.
This was the ignition key.
The doorway.
The invitation.
And the world had just stepped inside.
---
Welcome to Night City.
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