With the Sky-Faring Commission pulling the strings, Julian Reed's position at the archives was suspended with full pay. The Xianzhou was nothing if not thorough—if the venture failed, he'd still have his desk and his scrolls.
Free from the daily grind, Julian moved immediately. He founded his studio under the name Arceus and moved into a workspace near the Artisanship Commission. The location was perfect—surrounded by the hum of creation and fueled by a team of technicians seconded to him by the state.
Yanming had given the staff a simple ultimatum: satisfy Julian, or face the Commission's disciplinary board. It was a brutal but effective management style that allowed Julian to focus entirely on the creative direction.
"Julian, the backend architecture is set," Silver Wolf's voice crackled over the comms. "I'm not hacking black-market software anymore; Xianzhou's internal dev suites are surprisingly clean. Just worry about the art. I'll handle the logic."
Julian didn't have to learn the tools anymore; he just had to be the judge. His top priority was the animation. To build a frenzy, the show needed to hit the airwaves as soon as possible. The Sky-Faring Commission had already secured a prime slot on the Luofu's central entertainment channel, while fifty million Credits were funneled into IPC-controlled interstellar ad networks.
It was a staggering investment, but in the entertainment business, you had to spend to earn.
"To the mobile team: the turn-based combat is too stiff," Julian barked, pacing the studio floor. "Add finishing animations for KOs. I don't care if it's a simple tackle; I want it to look beautiful or look cool. No middle ground."
He turned to the PC department next. "The movements are robotic. I want five different reaction sets for dodging and being hit. If a Pokémon fails a move, I want to see the frustration in the sprites. And the sense of impact! I want to feel the weight of a Thunderbolt."
Finally, he hit the AI team. "Pikachu's face is a blank mask. Give me at least thirty distinct expressions. And remember—the architecture and the natural biomes must reflect Xianzhou aesthetics. That's our mission."
Julian was exhausted by the end of the day, his voice hoarse from translating abstract feelings into technical demands. Across the room, a giant, cyber-style "angry face" emoji flashed on the main monitors—Silver Wolf's way of communicating her displeasure with the coding team's progress. The programmers didn't dare talk back; they knew they were being mentored by a ghost in the machine.
Three days later, a lead from the animation wing approached him. "Boss, the optimization is done. Want to see the results?"
In the screening room, Julian watched the remastered promotional video. The quality was light-years beyond the original. The particle effects of the moves—the crackling electricity, the shimmering flames—were so vivid he could practically hear the budget burning.
"What's the cost per episode?" Julian asked.
"With the AI licenses sponsored by the Alliance, about a hundred thousand Credits per episode," the lead replied. "Without the subsidy, you'd be looking at ten times that."
Julian nodded, relieved. "And the speed?"
"Three episodes a day. Maybe four, now that we've locked in the Xianzhou-style architectural assets."
"Good. Coordinate with the station. We release three episodes a day, starting the day after tomorrow at 8 PM."
The Luofu's marketing machine roared to life. Holographic billboards across the ship flickered with new images.
"The first season of Pokémon premieres the day after tomorrow!"
"I choose you!"
"I'm Ash Ketchum from Pallet Town! I'm going to be a Pokémon Master!"
The visuals of adorable creatures and high-octane battles immediately hooked the younger demographic. Girls were enamored with the pets; boys were drawn to the combat. Even off-worlders visiting the Luofu found their curiosity piqued by the sheer scale of the promotion.
Back at the Divination Commission, Qingque was slacking off, scrolling through her Jade Abacus when the ad popped up.
"Pokémon?" she muttered, blinking at the screen. "Wait, wasn't that Julian's project? How did it turn into a full-scale animation already?"
She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, he was a colleague. I should probably support him. In fact, I'll use the premiere as an excuse to ask Lady Fu Xuan for some time off. She'll be so proud to see one of her archivists making it big, right?"