Harborview City always had a cool ocean breeze in the evenings, the kind that made even the hottest days feel forgiving by nightfall.
It was during one of these breezy evenings that Lucas Tate arranged to meet Evan Carter at a coffee shop by the university's east gate.
A full week had passed since the graduation design competition—meaning half of senior year was already behind them. By this point, most seniors had begun hunting for jobs, lining up whatever stability they could before commencement. The only thing left after this semester was to return in four months for the final thesis defense, then walk away with a diploma and officially join adult society.
So for the past week, Evan had barely left his dorm. He'd basically declared a mini-vacation for himself. Winning first place in the competition should've made him ecstatic—but the seal on the Death God Server still hadn't unlocked. That sulking disappointment kept him cooped up even longer.
If Director Tate hadn't messaged him repeatedly with formal invitations, Evan wouldn't have left the dorm at all.
When he arrived at the café, Lucas Tate was already sitting there. Evan instantly felt awkward.
"Director Tate, sorry—I'm a little late."
"No trouble at all," Tate said warmly, with zero arrogance. "Let's get right to it. I'm here for two reasons. First, Silver Ridge Games would like the rights to officially publish Killing Planet. Second, we're very interested in offering you a job."
He sipped his coffee, smiling, waiting for Evan's reaction.
Evan didn't pretend to be polite. He flagged down a waiter and ordered a latte. After thinking for a moment, he said:
"Killing Planet is fine. But… to be honest, Director Tate, you were a judge. You already know what its real core is. It's just a recursive algorithm. It uses the computer's built-in asset library—stock images, sound files—to generate maps at runtime. That's why the file is so small. It's worth practically nothing. So I don't get why you want to publish it."
Lucas chuckled."Since you said it that directly, I won't dance around it either. What we're actually after is the public buzz."
"Buzz?"
"Yes. Someone recorded video footage of your presentation. It went semi-viral on Twitter, Instagram Reels, and YouTube. A lot of people think you're a fraud, or that the 64KB claim is just a publicity stunt. We at Silver Ridge think the timing is perfect to release the game. And, well… since I happened to meet you twice now, I volunteered to reach out personally."
He pulled a contract out of his briefcase.
"This becomes official the moment you sign."
Evan took the contract, sipped his latte, and flipped through the pages slowly.
Overall, Silver Ridge's offer was solid and standard. They provided two options:
Option A – Buyout:A three-year full copyright buyout for $60,000.($45,000 paid upfront, $15,000 delivered a week after the contract finalized.)
Option B – Revenue share:A percent-based earnings contract.
Evan didn't even look at Option B. He knew Killing Planet was rough, flawed, and not much beyond a tech demo. The popularity was all because of the 64KB hype. Silver Ridge obviously knew it too—that was why the buyout only covered three years.
He signed the buyout contract immediately.
The moment his pen lifted from the page—
CRACK.
A snapping sound echoed through his mind.
Evan froze.
He clutched the Death God Server in his pocket.
The red-locked region—the sealed area—was gone.
Across from him, Lucas Tate lit up with satisfaction."You signed so decisively—fantastic! Now, about your employment—"
"Director Tate, I'm really sorry, but something urgent just came up. We'll talk about that next time."
Evan chugged the rest of his latte—way too fast, way too bitter—coughed twice, and stood abruptly.
"Thanks again for the coffee. Next round's on me."
Before Tate could even respond, Evan bolted out the door like a shot, leaving the director blinking in confusion as a cold breeze ruffled his hair.
He sprinted all the way back to his dorm.Thank God his roommates were out.
He grabbed the Death God Server with both hands, flopped onto his bed, and let his consciousness dive into its internal space.
This time—unlike the usual faint mental projection used for coding—his entire consciousness entered the newly unlocked system.
And the first thing he felt was—
Holy hell, it's huge.
The space had expanded more than a hundredfold.
Previously, it had seemed like a flat, empty white room used for coding. Now, hanging in the "sky" above that flat workspace were dozens of celestial bodies—planets, moons, worlds—most of them dimmed and dormant.
Only one glowed faint red.
With a thought, Evan zoomed toward it.
Up close, he could see the surface clearly:
It was nothing but nonstop chaos.
The ground shifted constantly. A lone human avatar—armed with an automatic rifle—was mowing down wave after wave of monsters. They were weak, but swarming endlessly, with new ones spawning in distant terrain.
Evan understood instantly.
This was Killing Planet, his newly published game.
"So the server only counts a game as official once it's under contract," he muttered. "Meaning I light up a planet every time I complete and publish one. And the planet's size seems linked to the game's quality. Killing Planet is a tech demo, so the world is small."
He stared at the floating cosmos of potential worlds.
"What happens when I light up all of these? Will it evolve into a real world? Will the Death God give me a super reward? Something insane?"
Just thinking about it made him practically drool.
But big dreams didn't change reality. Lighting up every planet was still a long, long way off.
He explored the unlocked features of the active planet and quickly discovered three main functions:
1. Enter-the-world VR experience.He could literally "enter" the planet to experience it like a true VR, living inside what he built.Cool, but he was busy.
2. Live player statistics.He could view in real time how many players the game currently had, where they were located, what features they wanted most, and even how they interacted with different mechanics.
3. A mysterious access port.Unused, inactive, and without explanation.He suspected it was for linking future games together—but for now, it remained a puzzle.