Development progressed in layers.
Each new zone brought a different problem, and each problem made something uncomfortable clear: the engine was still not enough.
It didn't fail.It just fell short.
The jungle required handling visibility. The coast, irregular collisions. The ruins, complex structures without increasing loading times. Every time something didn't fit, the team stopped.
And they looked at me.Not like before.Not waiting for technical instructions.Waiting for solutions.
–"The map breaks when we load large sections," – said Sato one afternoon.
I approached without speaking. I checked the memory flow. The problem wasn't the map, but how old resources were being released.
–"Divide loading by states," – I said.–"Not by physical areas."
I implemented the change that same afternoon. The engine started loading by intention, not by space. The problem disappeared.
No one applauded.They just kept working.
Another day, Mori complained about the animations.
–"Every adjustment makes me ask for changes," – she said.
She didn't sound upset.She sounded frustrated.
That night, I added a simple visual editor. Nothing sophisticated. Sliders, previews, adjustable timings. Mori tried it the next day.
–"…this saves me hours," – she said.
Sato had a problem with overlapping events.
–"The system doesn't know what to prioritize."–"Because it shouldn't decide," – I replied.–"Let the rules do it."
I redesigned the event system. Clear conditions. Isolated consequences. The engine began behaving like a set of systems, not a rigid block.
Each improvement arose from a concrete need.Never before.
The engine grew alongside the game.
And without planning it, the team started organizing around that.
–"Before doing this, ask her," – said Sato.–"Does this fit in the system?" – asked Mori, looking at me.
Kisaragi stopped intervening in technical details. He observed from afar, measuring times, resources, and moods.
One day, during a meeting, it happened without ceremony.
–"How do we proceed?" – someone asked.
Everyone looked at me.Not because I was the boss.Because I understood the whole.
I took a deep breath.–"We prioritize the coast," – I said.–"It's where most systems intersect."
They didn't hesitate.
The feeling was strange. Not heavy. Not exciting. Just natural.
I wasn't imposing anything. I was helping things move forward.
The impostor syndrome appeared, as always, in the background.–"You shouldn't be here," – it whispered.
But every time something unlocked, that voice lost strength.
At the end of the week, Kisaragi approached me.–"I didn't name you leader," – he said.–"But the team already follows you."
I didn't know what to reply.–"As long as the game progresses," – he continued.–"That's enough."
That night, staying alone, I reviewed the engine. I no longer recognized some parts. Not because they were bad, but because they had evolved.
Like me.
I wasn't seeking to lead.I wasn't seeking to stand out.I just wanted the game to come out well.
And, without realizing it, that was enough for everyone to trust me.