Director Tate went silent on the other end of the line.
"…What?" he finally said, stunned.
Evan didn't make him guess. "Director Tate, I spent the whole morning thinking it through. The reason Killing Planet blew up is simple players kept advertising it to each other as 'the smallest 3D shooter in the world.' That curiosity loop see the size, get intrigued, try it, then buy it that's why the game exploded."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"And honestly? I don't want to lose that title."
There was another quiet beat from Tate.
"So," Evan continued, "I came up with a new plan this morning. Something I think both sides can benefit from. See if this works on your end."
Tate's voice perked up immediately. "Mr. Carter, go ahead. I'm taking notes."
Of course he was.
"First," Evan said, "the main product you sell on the Silver Ridge official website can be the online multiplayer version of Killing Planet. That'll be the paid version."
"But the pure version the smallest memory version should be distributed for free as DLC. No modifications. No bloat. Just the original 64KB file."
"And I'll supply the multiplayer version myself. You won't need to worry about development."
Tate paused for a few seconds, weighing it. "If you can send us the multiplayer build quickly, we have no problem with that arrangement."
"I'll send it tonight."
Tate let out a surprised laugh. "Mr. Carter, you work insanely fast! So you already built the whole online system? You really planned ahead."
Evan silently rolled his eyes.
No, I haven't built anything yet. I'm literally going to code it after brushing my teeth. Three hours tops.
But out loud, he simply said, "Yeah, I'll handle it."
He moved to the second condition.
"Next: in the game's digital description, I want you to state clearly that the DLC and the main game are linked and that I'll keep optimizing the core in the DLC to ensure it always stays the world's smallest 3D shooter."
Tate barked a laugh. "Don't you worry about that. Even if you didn't ask, we were already planning to use that title in all our marketing."
Evan was speechless. Of course they were. Typical publisher instincts.
"Fine," he said. "And as for payment I'm not planning to use this as leverage. Instead, I want to propose something else."
"Oh?" Tate instantly sounded intrigued. "I'm listening."
So Evan explained in a careful, sanitized version what had happened after he returned to his hometown.
He told Tate that his father's company, Redwood Games, had been scammed by a fake lead planner. A whole project collapsed. Now he was temporarily forced to take charge and needed to develop a new title quickly. But manpower was tight.
Evan left out all the messy family drama no need to air dirty laundry. He simply said they lacked enough developers to start fresh.
But Tate wasn't stupid; he could read between the lines.
The real reason Evan was explaining so much was because he'd realized something important after last night's reports.
Sasha Quinn and the content team were doing great. In this world, fantasy and myth-based creatures gods, demons, monsters were everywhere. People here grew up on folklore and supernatural fiction. Kun, specifically, was iconic. So the content artists needed zero explanation. They were already churning out wild concept art like professionals who'd been waiting their whole lives for this exact assignment.
The technical department, however…
That was where the trouble started.
Tom Jacobs' report was blunt: Redwood Games simply didn't have enough front-end developers.
The entire company had fewer than a hundred employees. The tech team barely broke twenty. And because Redwood mostly built dating sims and story games, nobody had serious web-game experience.
Only two people even knew front-end development — and they were beginners at best.
Even with the Reaper Server, Evan knew he couldn't magically produce a full-scale online game without raising suspicions. No normal person codes that fast.
He needed a credible team behind him.
And recruiting from scratch would take too long.
Tate's phone call today was, frankly, a godsend.
So, Evan made his proposal:
He wanted three front-end developers from Silver Ridge Games, loaned to Redwood for three months.
In exchange, Evan would provide ongoing updates, optimization, and version upgrades for Killing Planet entirely for free.
It was a generous trade. Almost suspiciously generous.
Tate hesitated for a long moment — but eventually agreed.
Silver Ridge didn't have many active projects at the moment. Three front-end engineers wouldn't slow down their schedule. And besides…
Evan had already proven he wasn't a normal developer. Selling three hundred thousand copies right out of college? Tate had a strong feeling this kid wasn't done surprising him.
"Then it's settled," Tate said. "We'll arrange the personnel."
Once the call ended, Evan exhaled hard and sagged back in his chair.
What was supposed to be a quick phone call had turned into an hour-long negotiation. But at least it solved the manpower crisis.
Content team: covered.
Technical support: covered.
Everything he needed to start building the new project.
As for the game's name, he'd already settled on something last night.
Devouring the Heavens and Earth.
It matched the Kun's devouring-and-evolving nature perfectly. He'd originally liked a different phrasing — something closer to a beat-'em-up arcade game from his past life — but that would've felt like a direct rip. So he switched the wording around to avoid the conflict.
After washing up, Evan grabbed his keys and drove straight to the office.
It was well past working hours thanks to Tate's very long phone call. And the moment he walked in, Lana Young, the front desk receptionist, shot him a dramatic glare. Apparently she was still holding a grudge from yesterday.
"Director Carter, you're late," Lana said, standing up straight and trying her best to look authoritative.
"I know," Evan said calmly.
"You just ruined your perfect attendance record for the month! And your pay is getting docked!"
Evan blinked once. "Pretty sure I'm the one who signs the approval forms. So no, I won't be docking my own pay."
"You're abusing your power!" she cried, slamming her little hands on the desk. "I'm going to report you! You are the biggest corporate parasite in Redwood Games!"
Evan smothered a laugh. "Alright, enough drama. Do me a favor call Tom Jacobs and Sasha Quinn. Tell them to meet me in my office."
Lana immediately switched from ferocious guard dog back into her usual cheerful mode. "Okay, Mr. Director!"
300 powerstones for extra chapter.