The laughter was a virus. The moment it hit Julian's ears, his own lungs buckled, and he burst into a manic, uncontrollable fit of mirth. It wasn't just a reaction; it was a fundamental shift in his reality. For a heartbeat, he truly believed that existence was a punchline, and he was the only one in on the joke.
Above the rift in the golden path, a gargantuan, shifting clown mask peered down at him.
Aha. The Aeon of Elation.
The gaze was fleeting—a casual glance from a god who found a new spark of chaos in the dark. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the vision snapped. Julian was back in his office, bent double over his desk, laughing so hard tears streamed down his face.
The studio went silent. The programmers and artists turned in their chairs, staring at their boss in collective confusion.
"Boss? Are you... okay?" a young assistant asked, hovering near the doorway.
Julian straightened, wiping his eyes and taking a shaky breath. "I'm fine. Just a sudden thought. Get back to work."
Once he was alone, the weight of the experience settled in. He hadn't just seen a vision; he had stepped onto a Path. He was a Pathstrider.
"Elation?" he whispered. "Because of the games?"
It made sense. Pokémon brought joy to millions. It was a franchise built on the thrill of discovery and the high-energy fun of competition. If he continued to spread this "Joy" across the stars, his connection to the Path would only grow.
He closed his eyes, reaching inward to feel the new reservoir of Imaginary Energy humming in his soul. Every Pathstrider manifested power differently. For Julian, the ability was crystal clear: Projection.
He didn't need to scan an object to replicate it. He just needed to envision the "Soul" of a Pokémon.
"Pikachu," he breathed, focusing his mind on the static-crackled yellow fur and the lightning-bolt tail.
Pop.
A small, yellow electric mouse appeared on his desk. It tilted its head, its long ears twitching as it looked around the room with genuine, wide-eyed confusion.
"Pika?"
"No way..." Julian reached out. His fingers brushed against soft, warm fur. The creature let out a happy chirp and nuzzled into his palm, its cheeks sparking with a faint, tickling current.
"Pika!"
But as Julian's heart soared, the energy drained. The golden threads in his vision frayed, and the Pikachu vanished into a haze of shimmering dust. Julian slumped back, his head throbbing. As a fledgling Pathstrider, his reserves were pathetic. Projecting a living being—even a small one—was an immense drain on his mental and spiritual stamina.
"It's a start," he grinned through the fatigue. "One day, I'll make you permanent."
Pier Point: IPC Headquarters
Deep within the Traditional Department, the air was cold and smelled of ozone. A circular table was surrounded by the holographic projections of the IPC's elder board. It was a meeting of shadows and old money.
"The Xianzhou Alliance is gaining too much ground," a subordinate reported, stepping into the center of the ring. "This 'Pokémon' phenomenon is breaching our cultural barriers. We must initiate a total suppression immediately."
"I've already ordered the news blackouts," another voice added. "But the quality is the problem. My own granddaughter is begging for a beta key. People actually like this."
"That is irrelevant," a stern, elderly woman snapped. "If it is not IPC-branded, it is a threat. If the Xianzhou spreads their 'win-win' philosophy through this game, our subordinate worlds will start questioning our interest rates. We crush it now."
"Should we delist it for 'compliance violations'?"
"Idiot," the woman sneered. "The Xianzhou Alliance follows the Hunt. If we seize their property illegally, they'll bring a fleet to our doorstep. We are merchants, not suicidal martyrs. We use the 'Old Methods'."
The elders nodded in silent agreement.
"Mobilize the troll armies. I want a million negative reviews on every forum by morning. Assign the technical units to find—or create—bugs. Bombard their servers. Paralyze their company from the inside."
"And the 'Plagiarism' angle?"
"Perfect. Claim it's a direct theft of Aetherium Wars assets. Affix the label until it sticks. Cut off their traffic in our sectors. If a streamer tries to broadcast it, shadow-ban them. Erase the name 'Pokémon' from the IPC search engines."
The meeting ended without a single high-ranking official needing to raise their voice. To them, Arceus Studio was an insect to be stepped on.
Within hours, the IPC's sphere of influence went dark. Across thousands of worlds, videos vanished, discussion threads were deleted, and the official Arceus website was hit by a massive, coordinated DDoS attack.
Veteran gamers across the galaxy looked at their blank screens and knew exactly what was happening. The giant had finally moved.
Julian Reed's phone began to buzz incessantly. The first wave had arrived.