December arrived in Lumen City with cold winds, neon reflections, and something far more explosive than weather—Northstar Games had begun a new recruitment wave.
Just like before, the announcement didn't come through corporate emails or polished press releases. Instead, it dropped straight onto the Official Blog, raw and direct, exactly how the public expected from Northstar.
The recruitment requirements were posted in bold:
Young. Hardworking. Positive. Obedient.
At first glance, it almost sounded like a scam.
Some people even joked online, saying this looked like the kind of message that would lead you into some shady cyber trafficking route across borders.
But this was Northstar Games.
And if there was one thing people understood by now, it was this—Northstar never followed normal rules.
The moment the post went live, it spread like wildfire. From forums to streamers, from indie dev circles to major studios, everyone was talking about it.
Within hours, the entire gaming industry was buzzing.
And that's when panic began.
As the end of the year approached, game companies across the country suddenly went into emergency mode.
Bonuses were rushed out.
Delayed salaries were suddenly cleared.
Bosses who hadn't spoken kindly in years began praising employees like family.
Annual meetings were filled with fake promises and exaggerated visions of the future.
Why?
Because everyone had the same fear—
"What if our employees apply to Northstar?"
The fear wasn't unfounded.
Two years ago, Northstar had taken in a batch of fresh graduates—students that most companies wouldn't even consider as interns.
But now?
Those same students had become the backbone of the company.
They weren't just employees anymore. They were legends in small industry circles.
Young developers looked up to them like idols.
But deep down, everyone knew the truth.
Those people didn't become great just because of talent.
They became great because they had the right environment.
Because they had Ethan Reed.
Because they had Vivian Frost.
Because they had a company that allowed them to fail, learn, and grow without limits.
Without that?
They would've remained ordinary.
That was the real reason Northstar terrified other companies.
Not just because of its success—
But because of its ability to create monsters out of rookies.
---
Inside Northstar, the HR department had already gone into overdrive.
Resumes flooded in from everywhere.
Of course, not everyone qualified.
Northstar wasn't a training academy.
You had to at least understand art or programming.
Still, by the afternoon, dozens of strong candidates had been selected for the next round.
---
At the same time, another piece of news quietly spread across Lumen City.
The city government had sold a bankrupt building to Northstar Games.
The deal was finalized before the year ended.
The building used to be a hotel, but business had been terrible. Outside of peak tourist seasons, it stayed nearly empty.
Eventually, it shut down.
Now, it had a new owner.
Northstar bought it for 460 million.
Expensive?
Yes.
But not unreasonable.
The original construction had cost over 300 million, and more importantly, the building was already complete.
No need to build from scratch.
No delays.
No headaches.
Just renovate and move in.
And for Northstar—time was more valuable than money.
Under the influence of her father, Vivian Frost made the decision quickly.
She paid the full amount without hesitation.
That moment made her father realize something shocking—
He could no longer keep up with his daughter.
---
Renovation teams were immediately brought in.
After reviewing the structure, the lead contractor gave a confident answer:
"Six months. Eight at most. You'll have a completely new building."
Vivian was stunned.
She had expected years.
But this wasn't new construction.
This was transformation.
And that made all the difference.
---
While the company expanded physically, something even more important was happening internally.
Daniel had begun leading a new game project.
The team under him was extraordinary.
Young.
Talented.
Fearless.
Most of them were under 26 years old, but their experience rivaled veterans.
Why?
Because they had survived Cyberpunk-level development.
They had been forged under pressure.
They weren't just developers anymore—
They were elite.
---
Inside a meeting room, Daniel stood in front of a screen filled with concept art.
"FPS is new territory for us," one of the team members said.
Daniel nodded.
"Yeah. But this time, we're not making a traditional shooter."
He smiled slightly.
"This is something different."
Beside him, Evan Cross studied the visuals.
"The art style… it feels unusual. Bright. Almost like animated combat visuals."
Another developer laughed.
"What's wrong with that? Looks great to me."
Daniel shook his head.
"You're missing the point. This isn't just about shooting."
He tapped the screen.
"This game blends FPS with hero-based mechanics."
The room fell silent.
That concept alone was groundbreaking.
"Each character has abilities," Daniel continued. "Different roles. Different skills. Team synergy."
Someone whispered, almost in disbelief—
"Like a MOBA… inside an FPS?"
Daniel nodded.
"Exactly."
---
This was the moment everything changed.
A completely new genre was being born.
Not pure shooting.
Not pure strategy.
But something in between.
Something fresh.
Something addictive.
---
The project would include two modes:
Casual Mode – focused on fun.
Competitive Mode – focused on skill and ranking.
Balanced.
Accessible.
Yet deep.
Daniel could already imagine it—
If this leaked, the entire industry would copy it overnight.
---
Meanwhile, recruitment interviews had reached the final stage.
Candidates sat nervously, waiting.
They didn't expect to see Ethan Reed and Vivian Frost personally present.
That alone shattered their composure.
But Ethan smiled warmly, easing the tension.
"These are the future of Northstar," he thought.
---
One candidate stood out.
A girl with glasses handed over her portfolio.
Her hands were trembling.
Ethan flipped through the pages.
Then paused.
A faint smile appeared.
"This is… impressive."
Vivian leaned closer, clearly interested.
Ethan looked up.
"You didn't learn this style in school, did you?"
The girl shook her head.
"I taught myself. I love Western comic styles."
Ethan nodded slowly.
Perfect.
This was exactly what they needed.
"Miss Mira Vale," he said, "we have a project that suits your style perfectly."
She froze.
"Can you start tomorrow?"
Her eyes widened.
"Yes! Yes, I can!"
---
Another talent had been secured.
---
After the interviews ended, Ethan leaned back in his chair.
The project name echoed in his mind.
Overwatch.
A game that once shook the world.
A game that had everything—
Style.
Gameplay.
Identity.
Yet, it had also failed.
Not because it was bad.
But because it was neglected.
---
Ethan clenched his fist slightly.
"Not this time."
He wouldn't let history repeat itself.
---
Later, he walked to Vivian's office.
"Vivian."
She peeked out lazily.
"What now?"
Ethan grinned.
"Let's build something bigger."
She raised an eyebrow.
"How big?"
He took a deep breath.
Then said—
"Let's create a real esports league."
Not small tournaments.
Not casual competitions.
But a full-scale, global system.
Structured.
Professional.
Massive.
---
Vivian didn't hesitate.
"How much money do you need?"
Ethan blinked.
"…I haven't calculated yet."
She waved her hand casually.
"Tell me when you do."
Then she went back to her game.
---
Just like that.
A decision was made.
---
Before Overwatch was even released—
Northstar had already begun planning its dominance.
---
Ethan stood by the window, looking at the glowing skyline of Lumen City.
This wasn't just about making a game anymore.
This was about building something that would last.
Not for years.
But for generations.
---
And this time—
They would do it right.
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