Zaboru followed Carlos outside B.E.A.K. headquarters, still curious about the mysterious development group called Lo Siento. However, the moment they reached the parking area, his attention was immediately stolen by Carlos's car.
It was a Ferrari 360 Modena.
The bright red sports car looked absurdly clean, polished to the point where it almost reflected the entire parking lot. Zaboru stared at it for a moment, then looked at Carlos with an amused smile.
"What a good car you have."
Carlos scratched his head awkwardly. "Well… I love sports cars, so…"
Zaboru shrugged casually. "Hey, it's fine. You bought it with your own money, Carlos. Don't think too much." Then he chuckled. "Even I don't have a Ferrari. Hahaha."
Carlos gave him a dry look. "Boss, that's just you being modest. You don't have a Ferrari because if you wanted one, you'd probably buy the company instead."
Zaboru laughed. "That sounds troublesome."
"Exactly. That's why you don't have one."
The two entered the car, and soon Carlos drove away from B.E.A.K. headquarters, heading toward Lo Siento's so-called main office. During the ride, Carlos explained more about the group. They were young, underfunded, stubborn, and apparently very strange. They had some technical skill, some artistic talent, and an idea that made most investors blink several times before politely running away.
Zaboru only became more interested.
After some time, the Ferrari entered a quieter neighborhood and stopped in front of what Carlos called Lo Siento HQ.
Zaboru looked through the window.
Then he chuckled.
The "headquarters" was just a normal-sized house.
It was not even a particularly impressive house. The paint looked old, the front yard was not properly maintained, and several wires could be seen running strangely near the windows. There were stickers, posters, and one extremely suspicious cardboard sign near the entrance that said LO SIENTO with a poorly drawn flaming football beneath it.
Carlos sighed. "Well, here it is, Boss. Their HQ."
Zaboru nodded slowly, looking more amused than disappointed. "Honestly, this looks exactly like the kind of place where either a disaster or a masterpiece is born."
Carlos gave him a tired smile. "With this group, probably both."
Zaboru and Carlos then approach the House entrance.
Because of the sound of the expensive Ferrari arriving, one guy from inside the house suddenly opened the curtain and peeked out. At first, his expression showed simple curiosity. Then his eyes landed on Carlos.
Then they moved to Zaboru.
The man froze.
For a moment, it looked like his soul had escaped his body.
Then he suddenly turned around and shouted in Portuguese so loudly that even Zaboru could hear him clearly from outside.
"BOSS! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHO IS COMING!"
Several chaotic noises immediately came from inside the house.
A chair fell.
Someone shouted.
Something that sounded like a keyboard hit the floor.
Another person yelled, "WHO!?"
The first man shouted back, "ZABORU!"
Silence.
Then complete chaos.
Carlos rubbed his forehead. "This is already embarrassing."
Zaboru laughed. "Well they just excited its' fine."
They walked toward the entrance and rang the bell. Not long after, the door opened.
A young man, probably in his mid or late twenties, stood in front of them. He had messy hair, tired eyes, and the unmistakable look of someone who had slept three hours in the last two days. He wore a slightly faded Mario ZAGE T-shirt, and behind him stood around 7 other people, all frozen in various stages of disbelief.
The young man looked first at Carlos.
Then he slowly looked past him.
His mouth opened.
"Z… Z… Zaboru?"
Zaboru smiled warmly and extended his hand, speaking in perfect Portuguese.
"Hi, I'm Zaboru. Nice to meet you."
The young man's hand trembled as he shook it.
"W-Wilson… Wilson Oliveira. I'm Wilson Oliveira, and I'm the boss of Lo Siento."
Zaboru's eyes widened slightly.
Wilson.
Lo Siento.
Brazil.
A ridiculous memory from his previous life suddenly flashed through his mind. A chicken floating through floodwater. The name Wilson. The phrase Lo Siento. The kind of absurd internet meme that lived forever in the trash corner of memory.
For one terrifying second, Zaboru almost laughed.
He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself.
No. Be professional. These people are serious developers. Do not laugh at the chicken meme. Do not laugh at the chicken meme.
Zaboru's smile twitched slightly.
Wilson noticed and became even more nervous. "D-Did I say something wrong?"
"No," Zaboru said quickly. "Nothing. Your name is just… memorable."
Carlos glanced at Zaboru suspiciously.
Zaboru ignored him.
Wilson quickly invited them inside, still looking like his brain had not fully accepted reality. "P-Please come in! Sorry, the place is messy. We didn't know you were coming. If we knew Zaboru-san was coming, we would have cleaned more. Or maybe moved to another house."
One of the developers behind him whispered, "Boss, But where?."
Wilson whispered back, "I'm panicking."
Zaboru laughed softly. "Don't worry. Too much i don't really care about that stuff."
They entered the house.
As expected, the inside was messy.
But it was not the kind of mess created by laziness. It was the mess of people desperately chasing a dream with almost no money. The living room had been transformed into a cramped workspace. Several old computers sat on cheap desks. Sketches were taped to the walls. Empty coffee cups, notebooks, controller prototypes, marker pens, and cables were scattered everywhere.
There were drawings of characters performing acrobatic kicks, capoeira stances, spinning football shots, and what looked like a man launching himself upside down to smash a ball over a net with his heel. One wall contained a large, chaotic diagram labeled MMB RULES??? with three question marks that did not inspire confidence.
Zaboru walked closer and studied it.
There were arrows everywhere.
Some arrows pointed toward a goal.
Some pointed toward a net.
One arrow simply pointed to the word STYLE written in giant letters.
Zaboru nodded seriously. "Intersting game design…."
Wilson looked terrified. "It's game design! Probably!"
One of the developers behind him muttered, "Depends on the build."
Carlos sighed.
Zaboru continued looking around. Despite the chaos, his expression softened slightly. There was passion here. Stupid passion, maybe. Exhausted passion, definitely. But real passion.
Wilson watched Zaboru explore the room with visible anxiety, then suddenly turned toward Carlos.
"Um… Carlos! Why did you come here with Zaboru, nonetheless!? Did you agree to invest in us?"
Carlos sighed. "Apparently, I gave my boss the gist of your game idea, and somehow he took a liking to it. So he wanted to visit."
Wilson looked like he had been struck by lightning.
"He… took a liking to it?"
Zaboru chuckled and turned toward the Lo Siento team. "Without further ado, Wilson, and everyone from Lo Siento… I heard you want to create a game based on capoeira and football, played on something like a volleyball court. Is that correct?"
Wilson nodded quickly.
Zaboru's eyes sharpened with curiosity. "Then I want to ask: why? What's the inspiration? What made you look at football, capoeira, and volleyball and think, 'Yes, this is the future'?"
Wilson scratched his messy hair.
"Well, it's simple, really, Zaboru-san. I love capoeira. And like many Brazilians, I love football. I wanted to combine those two things. But when I imagined it on a normal football pitch, it felt too big. Too much running. Too much empty space. The idea became messy."
He pointed toward one of the sketches.
"So I started thinking about smaller courts. Something tighter. Something where every movement matters. Then I thought of volleyball. A court split into two sides, with a net, fast exchanges, and dramatic jumps. But instead of hands, players use kicks, spins, flips, capoeira movements, and football control."
Zaboru nodded slowly. "So the court size forces action."
"Yes!" Wilson said, becoming more animated. "Exactly! No waiting around. No long-distance passing for ten minutes. Just movement, rhythm, timing, and style. I want every point to feel like a fight and a dance at the same time."
One of the developers behind him suddenly raised his hand. "Also, we want people to scream when someone scores."
Wilson pointed at him. "Yes! Screaming is important!"
Zaboru smile.
Carlos muttered, "This is why investors run."
Wilson continued, now too excited to stop. "We want it to feel like Brazilian street energy. Not normal sports. Not normal fighting. Not normal football. Something people can look at and say, 'What the hell is that?' but then after ten minutes they cannot stop playing."
Zaboru grinned. "So do you know there is actually a sport from Southeast Asia called sepak takraw?"
Wilson nodded immediately. "Yes, I know! It has similar rules. But our game doesn't want to just copy that. What we want is to create something that feels like sepak takraw crashed into capoeira, football, martial arts, and arcade madness in Brazil!"
Zaboru stared at him "Martial Arts?".
Wilson froze. "Yes! Was that too much?"
Zaboru smiled wider. "No. Continue."
Another developer, a woman with glasses and paint stains on her fingers, quickly stepped forward and said, "We also planned to include playstyles from other countries. Not just Brazil. For example, there will be a taekwondo-inspired style from Korea, a Muay Thai-inspired style from Thailand, maybe kung fu from China, and even tricking or parkour-based teams and players."
Another developer added, "Each style changes movement, jump timing, ball control, special shots, defense, and team strategy."
Wilson nodded rapidly. "That's why we call it MMB."
Zaboru tilted his head. "MMB?"
Wilson spread both arms dramatically.
"Mixed Martial Ball!"
For a few seconds, Zaboru simply stared at him.
Then he slowly smiled.
"That name is insane."
Wilson's face turned pale. "Bad insane or good insane?"
Zaboru answered immediately. "Potentially legendary insane."
The entire Lo Siento team looked as if they had just received oxygen after drowning.
One of them whispered, "He said legendary."
Another whispered back, "Potentially."
Zaboru walked toward a rough character concept taped on the wall. It showed a muscular capoeira player with exaggerated pants, colorful wristbands, and a ball spinning above his heel like a weapon. The design was unpolished, but it had energy.
He studied it for a moment, then turned back toward Wilson.
"Let me ask something serious."
The room immediately became quieter.
Zaboru looked Wilson directly in the eyes.
"If ZAGE sponsors Lo Siento, what can I expect? Can you promise this game will sell well?"
Wilson gulped.
The pressure from Zaboru's gaze was not hostile, but it was intense. This was not simply a rich investor asking about profit. This was Zaboru Renkonan, the founder of ZAGE, the man Wilson admired more than any other developer in the world. To Wilson, this felt like being asked by the god of video games whether his ridiculous dream deserved to exist.
He inhaled deeply.
Then he looked back at Zaboru.
"Zaboru-san…"
He paused.
Then his eyes suddenly widened slightly.
"Wait. It's so damn cool calling someone with 'san.'" he scratches his hair "Damn! I want to say that like in ZAGE Anime.. So cool!..."
The room became silent.
Carlos closed his eyes.
One developer whispered, "Boss…"
Wilson realized what he had just said and immediately stiffened.
"Sorry! Sorry! I'm serious now!"
Zaboru grinned amused,. "It's fine. Continue."
Wilson swallowed again and forced himself to speak properly.
"Honestly… I can't promise that. I can't promise this game will sell well. This dream of us is absurd. I don't even know if the game will work properly. We only have a rough prototype and some basic systems. The gameplay rules still need testing, the character designs are not finalized, the controls need a lot of adjustment, and honestly, we are still arguing whether the ball should explode during special shots."
Zaboru blinked. "Explode?"
One developer quickly said, "Only visually."
Another quietly added, "Mostly."
Wilson ignored them and continued, "We are extremely grateful for ZAGE's Unreal Engine, because that engine is the only reason we even reached this stage. Without it, we would probably still be drawing stick figures and crying. But even with that, I cannot say for sure that this game will make money."
His hands clenched slightly.
"But one thing I can promise is that if you give us a chance, I will dedicate my life to this game. This is my dream. It's a gamble, yes. It might fail. People might laugh at us. Maybe they already are laughing. But I still want to try."
Wilson looked at Zaboru with desperate sincerity.
"I'm one of your biggest fans because ZAGE never seems afraid to try new genres. You create strange things, risky things,. But unlike you, Zaboru-san, we are not geniuses. We are not ZAGE. We are just a tiny team in a messy house with an idea that sounds stupid when explained badly."
He gave a nervous laugh.
"But I still believe there is something here. I don't know if it will become big. I don't know if it will become profitable. But I want to make it real. Even if it fails, I want to fail after giving everything."
The room became quiet.
Zaboru stared at Wilson for several seconds.
Then he grinned.
That was exactly the answer he wanted.
If Wilson had tried to sugarcoat everything and said something ridiculous like, "This game will definitely sell millions," Zaboru might have left immediately. But Wilson had not done that. He admitted the uncertainty. He admitted the risk. He admitted the game might fail.
Yet he still wanted to try.
That kind of honesty and stubbornness was valuable.
Zaboru looked toward Carlos.
Carlos sighed the moment he saw his expression.
He already knew the answer.
Zaboru smiled. "Okay."
Wilson blinked.
The other developers also froze.
Zaboru continued, "Wilson, Lo Siento… ZAGE will invest in you."
For a moment, nobody reacted.
It was as though the words needed time to enter their brains.
Then Wilson whispered, "What?"
Zaboru chuckled. "ZAGE will invest in Lo Siento. Prepare a document listing how much money you need, what you need it for, your development timeline, required equipment, expected staffing, prototype goals, and release plan. Carlos will review it properly."
Carlos nodded. "Very properly."
Zaboru raised one finger. "But let me be clear. Don't try to fool us. We are not stupid. Don't bloat the cost, don't invent fake expenses, and don't treat this like free money. If you do that, we leave immediately."
Wilson rapidly nodded. "Of course!"
Zaboru's expression softened slightly. "But if you're honest, ZAGE will help. Don't worry too much about immediate expectations or duration. What I care about is that you try your goddamn best. Make sure that when this game is finally ready to release, it properly represents what you have in mind."
He looked around the messy room, at the sketches, old computers, notes, posters, and exhausted faces.
Then he smiled.
"I'm looking forward to seeing what Mixed Martial Ball becomes and i gonna play it personally."
Wilson's face twisted.
For a second, he looked like he was trying to remain professional.
Then he failed completely.
Tears filled his eyes.
"Yeah…"
His voice cracked.
Then he suddenly shouted, "YEAH!"
The other developers exploded with emotion.
One person jumped.
Another covered their face.
Someone screamed into a pillow.
The woman with glasses began crying while laughing at the same time.
One developer grabbed Wilson's shoulders and shook him violently. "Boss! We got funded! We got funded by ZAGE! Boss, we are not dead!"
Wilson shouted back, "We are not dead!"
Carlos stared at them. "Were you that close?"
Wilson turned toward him with tears still in his eyes. "Carlos-san, our electricity bill is not yet paid!."
Zaboru burst out laughing.
The entire room dissolved into ridiculous celebration.
Some of them hugged each other. One developer saluted a broken monitor and said, "You can finally retire, old friend." Another immediately argued that the monitor still had "emotional value" and should not be thrown away.
Zaboru watched them with amusement and warmth.
Then he turned toward Carlos. "Carlos call someone Bring food. A lot of it."
Carlos raised an eyebrow. "For them or for you?"
Zaboru smiled. "Yes."
Carlos sighed but immediately made a call.
Before long, food started arriving. Meat, rice, beans, snacks, drinks, bread, desserts, and far too many things for a normal small meeting. Zaboru turned the investment discussion into an impromptu celebration party inside Lo Siento's messy headquarters.
The developers ate like people who had forgotten what financial hope tasted like.
Wilson repeatedly thanked Zaboru until Zaboru finally pointed at him and said, "If you thank me one more time, I'll reduce the funding by one sandwich."
Wilson immediately shut his mouth.
Then after three seconds, he whispered, "Thank you mentally."
"That's allowed."
The celebration continued for a while, but beneath the laughter and chaos, something real had changed.
Lo Siento was no longer just a tiny Brazilian development group trapped inside a messy house with an absurd dream.
They now had a chance.
ZAGE would provide funding.
Carlos would supervise the business side.
And Wilson Oliveira would finally be able to chase the game he had imagined for years.
The game's official name would be:
Mixed Martial Ball.
A strange sports game combining capoeira, football, volleyball-like rules, martial arts styles from around the world, and the kind of stupidity that might either fail horribly or become unforgettable.
Zaboru looked at the rough sketches again while chewing food with a satisfied smile.
Honestly, he did not know if the game would succeed.
But that was fine.
Some dreams deserved a chance before the world decided whether they were genius or nonsense and Zaboru love things like things that in his previous live don't exist .
And Mixed Martial Ball was definitely one of them.
To be continued.
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