While the world tore Aether apart, Leo quietly returned to work.
Tina hesitated. "So… what do we do?"
Leo answered without looking away from his monitor.
"Nothing."
Melina frowned. "Nothing?"
"This isn't our fight anymore. The Association handles it. We go back to development."
"But they tried to sabotage us," Tina said softly.
Leo nodded. "And now they're paying the price. Our job is to protect the game, not drag ourselves into drama."
---
….
Four hours in, cyber units entered multiple Aether data centers. These were not local police; they were international regulatory teams accompanied by government observers. They didn't request entry. They walked in with clearance codes that overrode everything.
Data locks were placed on entire server racks.
Hardware units were removed and sealed.
Employees on-site were pushed back behind cordons and warned not to interfere.
Hour 5 brought another hit: badge access across Aether facilities was disabled. Employees couldn't enter offices. Team leads couldn't get into rooms they oversaw for years. Several executives found their own credentials revoked.
Three board members resigned before the end of the hour.
At hour 6, emergency lawsuits began. Investors accused Aether of hiding "operational risks" and "intentional misconduct." Financial regulators froze accounts to prevent asset movement.
By hour 7, tech analysts worldwide released detailed breakdowns of the stolen code. It wasn't just similar. It wasn't "shared techniques." It was identical:
Byte-for-byte structures.
Matching classes.
Replicated runtime behavior.
Debug IDs that existed only in Ground Zero's builds.
Timestamps proving the theft happened before Reworld's release.
Access trails reaching Aether's internal servers.
The public's anger intensified. Whatever sympathy remained evaporated.
Hour 8 ended with near-universal condemnation from every news channel.
"Source Code Theft Confirmed."
"GVGA Takes Control of Aether."
"The Fastest Corporate Freefall in the Game-AI Sector."
In eight hours, Aether went from an industry powerhouse to a sinking ship.
….
By the twelfth hour, the fallout had reached a new level.
Global sponsors cut ties.
Advertising partners removed Aether from campaigns.
Cloud providers cancelled hosting agreements.
Anonymous employee confessions appeared online:
"A lot of us warned the board."
"I'm scared of what's coming."
….
While investigators tore through Aether's digital records, one person vanished cleanly from the world:
Dark.
Every proxy shut down.
VPN chains collapsed.
Payment channels evaporated.
Contract logs disappeared.
Temporary servers were wiped.
Even Aether didn't know his real identity.
Dark understood one rule better than anyone:
When a global authority steps in, disappear immediately.
And so he did.
Not even GVGA trackers found a trail.
….
On the second day:
The CEO was suspended.
Fourteen executives were summoned for questioning.
Regulators from three countries stepped in.
Market analysts estimated bankruptcy in 90 days.
Recruiters openly distanced themselves from former Aether staff.
"No current hires until investigations conclude."
The company tried to release counter-statements.
Each time, the GVGA blocked them.
Aether no longer had control of its own voice.
The collapse was absolute.
__________
Two days after the exposure, the GVGA announced:
> "Aether Corp constructed its product using stolen Ground Zero code.
This act risked global AI developmental integrity."
The statement was simple.
The meaning was immense.
Aether was finished.
…
Hate flooded Aether's social platforms until they were locked.
Investors apologized publicly.
Institutions removed Aether from curriculum lists.
….
Within a week:
CEO resigned.
Three board members detained.
Assets seized.
Engine license revoked.
Servers confiscated.
Development division shut down.
Aether survived only as a legal shell waiting to be dissolved.
…..
While the world dissected every detail of Aether's fall, Leo quietly compiled the next internal build.
Tina asked, "Still working?"
Leo nodded. "Players are waiting."
"And Aether?"
"They're not part of the equation anymore."
He never looked back.
Ground Zero had only just begun.
—
—
But through this incident, he realized many things—and one fact stood out above all.
He understood the vital role of developers in this world and gained a deeper understanding of how the system functioned.
Most importantly, he grasped the critical significance of VR platforms and games. In this world, any game developed on a VR platform is automatically linked to AI training. The code, mechanics, and player interactions feed into larger AI frameworks, helping the AI learn and evolve.
The same could not be said for mobile or PC games. Anyone could create and experiment with those, and even if mistakes were made, they wouldn't have broader consequences. VR was entirely different. A single misstep or malicious act could affect foundational systems, AI behavior, and even societal infrastructure.
VR platforms were the fundamental essence of this world. Because of their importance, access to develop VR games was strictly controlled. Obtaining a VR gaming license was notoriously difficult. Only those with extensive experience and proven understanding of the industry could secure one. These developers knew what could be experimented with and what could not—they understood the stakes.
Leo's emergence into the world was remarkable because he gained a VR license extraordinarily quickly. Where others had spent years struggling, building credibility, and proving their expertise, he had already achieved what most could only dream of.
End of V2