"Cheers!"
Mikfo's celebration party was scheduled for the third day after the game's sales successfully surpassed three million units.
One million copies sold on day one.
One million on day two.
Another one million on day three.
The numbers were astonishing.
They meant that this game already had the strength to stand shoulder to shoulder with top-tier titles.
And all of this had been achieved by a team of just over a hundred people.
To Myron Case, this was a milestone.
A milestone that signified real competition with Gamestar Electronic Entertainment.
Previously, every major sales record had been broken by Gamestar Electronic Entertainment.
Of course, the truly global records were still held by Gamestar Electronic Entertainment.
The records set by Infinite World merely broke the fastest-selling record within the United States.
But even so, it gave Myron Case tremendous confidence.
To celebrate the game's strong sales, he decided to host a grand celebration ball in the liveliest area of the United States.
Even someone as strict as him relaxed considerably that day.
Everyone followed Myron Case in drinking, singing, and indulging themselves.
But where some people were happy, others were suffering.
Normally, the successful are happy, and the unsuccessful are miserable.
This time, however, the situation was reversed.
The seemingly successful young man with the afro sat off to the side, drinking in silence with a heavy expression.
Others interpreted this as the reserved personality typical of a technical geek—perfectly understandable.
But he knew the truth.
The game hadn't come anywhere near his expectations, yet through aggressive marketing, it had been pushed to heights it didn't deserve.
Over the past two days, he had been closely following online discussions.
On the first day, players were swept up in the excitement of what they believed to be a revolutionary, generation-defining game.
By the second day, many players had begun to question it.
They felt the game was boring, that much of the randomly generated content was extremely crude—far from beautiful or visually pleasing.
Some worlds even had ecosystems that were outright counterintuitive, clashing sharply with normal human aesthetic instincts.
Still, there were even more people defending the game.
They argued that an infinite universe naturally meant the existence of things that differed from normal human thinking—that this was precisely what made the experience feel more authentic.
For some reason, seeing these defenses made the young man feel uneasy.
Those people talked as if the game were truly amazing, but as its developer, he knew better than anyone that the game simply wasn't very fun.
He believed that far more players must secretly feel the same way he did.
But for now, he couldn't quite articulate it clearly.
By the third day—today—voices of doubt had grown louder.
The game was released on Mikfo's official platform.
That platform was clearly modeled after Battle.net.
But it was a crude imitation.
All social features had been stripped away—there was no review system, no achievement system, no customization features, and no mod or workshop support.
Players had complained about this long ago, but Mikfo's response had been painfully slow. Even after all this time, none of those features had been added.
Under normal circumstances, such features should have been easy and quick to implement—unless Mikfo had other intentions.
The young man couldn't help thinking that if Mikfo's platform had a review system, the reviews would probably be disastrous by now.
Many fast-playing users had likely already realized how flawed the game was.
What worried him most was the experience of those players.
"Hey, what are you doing over here? Come celebrate with us!"
The head of the game development department staggered over, his face flushed red.
He was clearly drunk and in high spirits.
Infinite World had significantly increased his influence within the company.
Just that day alone, many department heads who rarely spoke to him had reached out to greet him.
And all of that was thanks to the young man with the afro.
"No, I'm not really in the mood to celebrate."
The young man drained the rest of his drink in one gulp and walked away without looking back.
It wasn't that he didn't want to fit in—it was that the success he had gained felt undeserved.
"I know what you're thinking, but you really should try to see things differently."
The department head patted him on the shoulder.
"Honestly, you can treat this game purely as a commercial product. The goal is profit—and we've already achieved that. Three million copies sold in three days. We're just one step away from turning a profit. After that, reputation doesn't really matter."
"I know. I understand the company's strategy. But this is still something I created. I want to make it better. I was planning to go back later with the team to start maintaining and updating the game—adding as much content as possible."
"That won't happen," the department head said, shaking his head.
"Won't happen? What do you mean?"
"Now that the game has succeeded, its value is already exhausted in the boss's eyes. That's why I told you to let it go. Our boss isn't someone who loves games—he sees them purely as commercial products. When you joined this company, you should've been prepared for that. Continuing to invest in updates and maintenance won't bring significant short-term returns, so the boss will absolutely refuse to invest further."
Half of the young man's heart went cold.
The product he had poured his soul into was about to be abandoned.
And yet, so many things still hadn't been realized.
At that moment, he began to regret seeking investment from Mikfo.
"I'm telling you—your best option now is to pitch the boss a new big idea. Something flashy, something eye-catching. That way, he'll be willing to invest again. After all, you've already proven yourself with one success. For a rookie game developer, that's incredibly rare. You should be happy."
But he couldn't be happy.
All he could think about was making Infinite World into the game it was meant to be.
But… there was no money.
What if he chose to walk away now?
The game's copyright was still in his hands. Mikfo's investment had already paid off. Technically, he could leave with the game.
But then what?
What would he do next?
At that moment, Gamestar Electronic Entertainment came to mind.
He should have chosen Gamestar Electronic Entertainment in the first place.
Perhaps his voice there would have been smaller—after all, they were overflowing with top-tier talent, and his ideas might not have stood out.
But at least there, game developers were truly respected.