Inside the sleek, plush passenger cabin of the Millennium Falcon, the atmosphere was incredibly tense.
Juno Park sat on the curved leather couch, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. Her hair fell in slightly messy waves across her face as she aggressively pouted, refusing to look at the boy sitting across from her.
Dorian sat nervously on the edge of his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. He had just dropped the exact same massive bombshell on her that he had used on his family: the elaborate 'Irregular Solar' reality manipulation cover story.
At first, Juno had laughed, fully convinced it was an elaborate joke. But then, Dorian had casually raised his hand and materialized a single, perfectly blooming Fairy Rose from Stardew Valley directly out of thin air. He had handed it to her, casually explaining that it was from another universe.
Since then, she hadn't said a word.
"Say something," Dorian finally pleaded, breaking the heavy silence. "What are you thinking?"
Juno kept her arms crossed, slowly turning her head to fix him with a piercing gaze. "For how long?"
"It's... it's been almost three years," Dorian admitted, wincing slightly.
Juno's eyes narrowed. "So, you were already awakened when you completely locked yourself in your room for months back then?"
Dorian offered a sheepish, apologetic smile. "I honestly didn't know what it was at the time either, Juno. I was just as confused as everyone else. I thought I was just having really vivid dreams."
Juno exhaled a long breath, staring down at the beautiful, impossible pink rose resting in her lap. "So... who else knows about this?"
"Just my family," Dorian answered softly. "And now you."
A faint, incredibly tender smile tugged at the corner of Juno's lips, but she quickly turned her head away toward the viewport to hide it. She uncrossed her arms, her tense posture finally relaxing.
"You seem... to not be that shocked," Dorian noted, genuinely surprised by how quickly she was processing the reality-shattering news.
Juno looked back at him, her bright eyes softening. "Honestly? I feel much more relieved than shocked."
"Relieved? Why?"
WHAM.
She punched Dorian squarely in the shoulder.
"GHK-!" Dorian choked out a highly undignified gasp, his entire upper body violently jolting from the kinetic impact. He bit his lip, desperately holding back a scream of absolute agony.
"Because," Juno smiled warmly, sliding over on the seat and happily locking her arms around his bruising bicep, "I was always worried you were just a fragile, regular mortal. I felt like I always had to hold back so I wouldn't accidentally hurt you. But if you're an Irregular Solar... I can loosen up more with you!"
Dorian forced a strained, agonizingly tight smile, his shoulder throbbing with the burning intensity of a dying sun. He realized with terrifying clarity that even with the stat-boosting Darkness upgrades from the Mirror of Night, he still had a very long way to go before he could comfortably tank a casual, affectionate punch from a Nullbreaker.
…
Several hours later, the Millennium Falcon descended through the atmosphere of Rodia 4, smoothly touching down in the massive, highly secure hangar bay of the Apex Guild Headquarters.
As the landing ramp hissed open and they walked out, a heavily armed guild member patrolling the hangar paused. Seeing the Guild Master's daughter holding hands with the mysterious boy, the heavily scarred mercenary simply offered a stiff, respectful nod down before continuing his patrol.
Dorian stopped at the edge of the boarding ramp, clearly not intending to go any further into the complex. "Alright. Say hi to Uncle Alexei from me."
Juno squeezed his hand, tilting her head. "You're really not going to meet my father yourself? You are already here, Dorian."
Dorian looked past her. The Apex Guild Headquarters was a towering, heavily fortified military fortress. Alexei Park, the Guild Master, was an incredibly powerful, deeply intimidating figure who commanded a private army with branches stretching from the Core Worlds all the way to the Mid-Rim.
Dorian forcefully gulped down the lump in his throat. Meeting the father of the girl you were dating was terrifying enough. Meeting him when he controlled a literal legion of highly trained solar mercenaries was practically a death sentence.
"Uhh..." Dorian stammered.
Juno sighed, rolling her eyes affectionately. "Fine. But you still need to meet them formally eventually. My mother especially, since you have literally never once met her in all the years we've known each other."
"Yes. Absolutely," Dorian agreed rapidly, eager to escape. "Just... thank you. Let me mentally prepare for that at the very least. Give me some time to build up my courage."
Juno smiled, nodding in understanding.
Dorian leaned in, giving her a quick, sweet kiss before quickly retreating back up the ramp of the Millennium Falcon.
As the ship's repulsor-lifts hummed to life and it ascended out of the hangar bay, another figure stepped out from behind a stack of cargo crates. It was Hirdela Cisto, a veteran guild operative and one of Juno's closest friends and combat mentors.
Hirdela leaned against a crate, a massive, teasing grin on her face. "Ooooh... Dori and Juno, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N–"
BOOM!
A concussive shockwave of concentrated, disruptive Nullbreaker energy violently exploded against Hirdela's chest.
Juno didn't even look back. She simply lowered her hand, her expression completely indifferent as she turned and began walking toward the main turbolifts to meet her father.
Thankfully, Hirdela was a high-tier Bulwark. The heavy, localized solar shield she had instinctively cast absorbed the brunt of the kinetic impact, leaving her entirely untouched. She simply dusted off her armor, her teasing grin widening even further, already preparing new material to annoy the boss's daughter.
…
Days passed, and the sudden, stealth drop of Pokémon: LeafGreen completely took over the galactic net.
Desperate to capitalize on the hype, major gaming media outlets scrambled to cover the secret release. Websites like VGN and others quickly published lengthy articles praising the "innovative hidden New Game Plus mechanics" and the "unprecedented depth of Kanto."
The internet, being the internet, immediately tore them to shreds.
The comment sections beneath the articles were an absolute bloodbath of vindictive gamers.
>: "Wait, why are you guys reporting on RTS? I thought this studio wasn't even on your radar?"
>: "Didn't the exact same journalist who wrote this article claim that Pokémon was going to ruin the minds of children across the Accord just three weeks ago? Make up your mind, VGN."
>: "Corporate media bending the knee the second they realize they can't control the narrative. We love to see it."
Despite the massive surge of media attention, LeafGreen itself was incredibly hard to obtain. The Avalon forums had worked tirelessly to compile a massive checklist of achievements required in FireRed to trigger the download. A player needed to beat the Elite Four, catch Mewtwo, complete a vast majority of the Pokédex, and conquer the post-game islands.
Very few players actually had the time or the sheer dedication to sink that many hours into the game. Because of that brutal entry barrier, the vast majority of the casual player base ended up experiencing the new, punishing ruleset vicariously through elite Stellarcasters.
FramePerfect was currently bearing the brunt of that suffering.
Sitting in his dimly lit streaming room, the famous speedrunner stared completely blankly at his monitor. A harsh, quiet Game Over screen reflected in his tired eyes.
He had just suffered a devastating Total Party Kill at the second Gym in Cerulean City.
FramePerfect blinked, violently snapping out of his trance. He had been staring at the screen for so long he had actually forgotten he was broadcasting to nearly four million people. The difficulty spike in LeafGreen was absolutely suffocating.
Arthur had completely overhauled the Gym Leader AI. They now utilized held items, hyper-potions, and brilliant type-coverage. Misty had somehow sent out a Water-Ice hybrid to completely negate his Grass-type starter's advantage, wiping his entire carefully curated team in four brutal turns.
Every single boss battle he had faced so far had been a desperate war of attrition, usually ending with the enemy surviving on a microscopic margin of health before turning the tables.
FramePerfect looked over at his chat monitor. He fully expected them to spam mocking emotes and call him washed up.
Instead, the chat was rolling with words of genuine encouragement. They had watched the entire grueling run. They had felt the intense, suffocating pressure of the Nuzlocke ruleset. They wanted to see him succeed.
"This is crazy," FramePerfect whispered, leaning back in his chair and dragging both hands down his face. "Is this really what my Rival went through during his journey in FireRed? I take back every single mean comment I said to him at the Victory Road gates. The guy was fighting for his life."
The chat tried to crack a few jokes to lift his spirits, urging him to reset the game and start a new run immediately.
FramePerfect shook his head. He had experienced absolutely enough punishment for one day. His brain was fried, and he desperately wanted to rest.
He opened up the Stellarcast directory and searched for the Pokémon: LeafGreen category. Out of millions of active streamers, there were only around a hundred elite casters currently skilled enough to be streaming the brutal game mode.
"Alright, chat. Go, go, go!" FramePerfect ordered, quickly setting up a massive viewer raid to redirect his four million viewers to a smaller channel. "Support the other casters. Say hi to them from me!"
He paused, a wicked, sleep-deprived grin spreading across his face.
"And make sure they lose too, hehehe."
With his final act of petty vengeance complete, FramePerfect ended his broadcast. He stood up from his desk, stumbled across his room, and slumped face-first onto his incredibly comfortable bed. A deeply satisfied smile remained plastered on his face.
He drifted off to sleep, entirely comforted by the knowledge that somewhere out there on the galactic net, more people were currently dying in their own LeafGreen playthroughs.
…
Months passed in a blur of coding, composing, and relentless logistics. Spring finally arrived on Planet Friton, melting away the winter frost and bathing the Kepler estate in warm, vibrant sunlight.
With the first official stop of Composer Percival's galactic tour on Sela exactly seven days away, Ratik decided to pay a visit to the estate. As Dorian's manager, it was her strict duty to ensure her star client was engaging in mandatory vocal rest and maintaining absolute, top-notch physical condition.
As her transport landed on the estate's private pad, Ratik stepped out, adjusting her glasses. She looked toward the sprawling agricultural fields, expecting to find Dorian relaxing on a porch chair.
Instead, she was greeted by absolute chaos.
It was spring, which meant it was officially the shearing season for the Muurbeasts.
Out in the middle of the pasture, Dorian and Juno were frantically running around in overalls, completely covered in dirt, sweat, and tufts of stray white wool. The massive, bouncing marshmallow-like beasts were playfully leaping around the field, easily evading capture.
"Juno, now!" Dorian shouted, holding a pair of heavy mechanical clippers.
Juno grinned, her eyes flashing with a violet glow. Raising her hand, she channeled her high-tier Nullbreaker abilities, casting a localized, disruptive electromagnetic wave directly into the path of a leaping Muurbeast. The ambient kinetic energy was instantly suppressed. The massive beast hit the invisible field and slowed down to a sluggish, floating crawl in mid-air.
"I got him!" Marcus shrieked with laughter, sprinting forward and easily tackling the safely slowed, fluffy beast into the grass. Dorian rushed in right behind his little brother, expertly running the clippers through the thick wool.
Standing at the edge of the fence, Ratik stared at the multi-billion-credit musical genius and the galaxy's premier pop star doing literal farm labor. Her eye twitched in sheer incredulity.
"I TOLD YOU TO REST!" Ratik shrieked, her voice echoing across the entire valley.
Dorian and Juno's heads violently jolted up. They spotted the terrifying manager standing in the distance, glaring daggers at them. Looking like guilty children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, the two stars dropped what they were doing and nervously jogged over to the fence.
As they approached, completely covered in Muurbeast wool, Ratik crossed her arms. "Is this your idea of strict physical and vocal rest?"
Dorian just offered a sheepish, incredibly guilty smile and giggled.
With a heavy sigh, Ratik marched them inside the house to clean up.
Ten minutes later, sitting in the pristine living room, Ratik pulled up a holographic datapad. She began to walk Dorian through the final, minute-by-minute rundown for the debut concert on Sela.
As Dorian scrolled through the digital document, his eyes widened in sheer awe. All he actually had to do was show up, put on his mask, and follow a series of incredibly simple cues. Everything else was completely taken care of. But it wasn't just a schedule; it was a masterpiece of logistical engineering.
The rundown had meticulously detailed contingency notes for every single variable. If the stage pyrotechnics failed, there was a backup lighting cue. If a guest artist's microphone shorted out, there was a specific route for a stagehand to replace it within three seconds. If the orbital weather changed, the acoustic dampeners would automatically recalibrate.
"Ratik..." Dorian breathed, looking up from the datapad. "How do you do it?"
Ratik paused, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Huh?"
"How do you process all of this?" Dorian asked, gesturing to the staggering depth of the file. "These rundowns have contingency plans for things that haven't even happened yet."
A rare, highly superior smirk touched the corner of Ratik's lips. She squared her shoulders. "Who do you think you are talking to, kid? I am an extraordinary manager. A professional of my caliber can easily handle the schedules of several artists simultaneously without breaking a sweat."
Dorian raised an eyebrow, a cheeky, teasing grin instantly returning to his face. "Oh yeah? Then why do you only have me as a client?"
Ratik's smirk vanished, replaced by a dangerously sharp glare. "If someone could actually focus on a single career instead of simultaneously running the biggest gaming empire in the galaxy and a farm, maybe I would have the free time to take on other clients."
She stood up, smoothing down her immaculate suit jacket.
"Now rest. And be ready for your concert," Ratik commanded with absolute authority. She shot a stern look at the girl sitting quietly next to him. "You too, Juno!"
Juno, despite being a highly trained Solar operative who could snap steel with her bare hands, instantly straightened her posture.
"Yes, ma'am!" Dorian and Juno answered in perfect, terrified unison.
Satisfied, Ratik turned on her heel and marched out the front door to her transport.
As the ship hummed and took off into the sky, the heavy, oppressive tension in the living room finally lifted. Juno slowly slouched back into the sofa cushions, letting out a long, breathless sigh of profound relief.
She looked over at Dorian, her violet eyes wide. "Sister Ratik is incredibly scary."
…
Days blurred into a week, and then suddenly, the grandest night in the galactic music industry had arrived.
Outside the monumental Sela Grand Basin; a sprawling, open-air amphitheater carved directly into the planet's lush landscape, dozens of hovering news drones and on-the-ground reporters were frantically broadcasting to the rest of the Accord.
"...absolutely historic turnout here on Sela!" a vibrant entertainment anchor shouted into her microphone, struggling to be heard over the deafening ambient noise behind her. "We are looking at an unfathomable sea of people! Over eight hundred thousand people have gathered here tonight for Composer Percival's live debut, making this the absolute largest venue of his entire five-system planetary tour!"
"...the economic data is simply staggering. Official tickets completely vanished from the void platform in precisely four seconds. Local planetary authorities report that resellers have been successfully flipping general admission passes for ten times the original market price! And the terrifying reality is, desperate fans are still eagerly buying them!"
"...eight hundred thousand...""...ten times the price...""...the Phantom of the Industry finally takes the stage...""...listen to that crowd!"
The digital broadcasts were entirely swallowed up by the physical, bone-rattling roar of those exact eight hundred thousand screaming fans.
Down in the very front row, pressed tightly against the reinforced security rail, stood Mala and Maree Brimen. The wealthy twin sisters from Oss VI were decked out in official Percival merchandise, waving sleek, glowing blue light-sticks in the air.
Mala had her hands gripping the metal railing, looking back over her shoulder. Her jaw dropped as she took in the sheer, terrifying scale of the crowd stretching up into the darkened basin. It looked like an endless ocean of glowing lights and shifting bodies.
"I literally cannot believe there are this many people here," Mala shouted over the noise, her voice barely reaching her sister.
Maree, who was currently being squished by a particularly enthusiastic Zynar fan next to her, let out a highly un-aristocratic groan. She pointed her light-stick straight up toward the sky. "I told you we should have bought tickets for the VVIP floating platforms! Look at them! They have comfortable chairs and an actual breathing room!"
Mala followed her sister's gaze. Hovering securely about two hundred feet above the massive stage were several luxurious, glass-bottomed VIP platforms, completely reserved for the galaxy's ultra-elite who wanted to watch the concert without mingling with the ground-level masses.
Mala fiercely shook her head, her fandom dedication overriding her need for comfort. "No! Look how far away they are! They are miles away from the stage! Down here is the absolute optimal spot. When Percival walks out, we are going to be five feet away. We want to feel him, Maree. We want to see him up close!"
Maree blinked, looking from the distant floating platforms back down to the massive, empty stage situated right in front of their faces. Slowly, an agreeable nod formed on the younger twin's face. Mala was absolutely right. The bruising crush of the crowd was a fair price to pay for the ultimate view.
Suddenly, the ambient stadium lights violently cut out. The air pressure in the basin instantly shifted. The crowd let out a deafening, unified shriek.
The first opening artist was getting ready to step out.
Backstage, safely hidden away from the blinding lights and the chaotic ocean of fans, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Standing in the shadows of the stage wings, Nazir Kal was nervously twiddling with the tuning pegs of his acoustic guitar. His hands were slick with cold sweat, and his breathing was erratic. He kept glancing out at the sliver of the crowd visible from his position.
The sheer wall of noise hitting him was paralyzing.
A gentle, steady tap landed on his shoulder.
Nazir jumped, violently spinning around. Standing right behind him was Composer Percival, fully dressed in a sleek, immaculate suit, his iconic metal mask reflecting the dim backstage lighting.
"Ahh," Nazir exhaled, pressing a hand to his chest to slow his racing heart. He offered a respectful, deeply anxious nod. "Percival. Composer. This is... this is way too big. The largest crowd I have ever performed for back in the underground rings was maybe fifty thousand people. Eight hundred thousand is just... it's a completely different universe."
Nazir swallowed hard, looking at the masked prodigy in sheer awe. "I honestly cannot believe this is your very first live concert. How are you so calm?"
Percival let out a soft, warm chuckle beneath the metal visage. He reached out, giving the nervous singer an encouraging, firm pat on the back.
"Then just look out there and only see fifty thousand, Nazir," Percival said casually, his voice steady and completely devoid of the crushing pressure hovering outside. "You have played for fifty thousand before. You know exactly how to do it. You've got this."
Nazir looked at the calm, unwavering posture of the man who had pulled him out of legal obscurity and handed him the stars. The suffocating anxiety in his chest finally began to recede, replaced by a quiet, burning determination.
Nazir smiled, gripping his guitar firmly. He gave a sharp nod. "Right. I've got this."