Mayron Kess finally couldn’t hold back anymore.
He wanted to see for himself how people on the internet were talking about Mikufu’s ga division.
He regretted it almost imdiately.
Or rather—his blood pressure shot through the roof the mont he finished reading.
Online, there was no shortage of people mocking Mikufu.
Most of them were saying that Mikufu was unbelievably stupid for throwing away the seed of a genuinely good ga.
At the sa ti, many people believed Mikufu simply wasn’t fit to make gas at all. Quite a few players even said they regretted ever giving Mikufu their money in the first place.
More and more gars were publicly declaring that they would never again buy Mikufu’s gas or consoles.
A company like that didn’t respect players.
Not only did it disrespect players—it didn’t even respect its own ga developers.
The more popular Infinite World beca, the more miserable Mikufu’s ga division staff felt, and the lower morale sank.
They all believed that it was Mikufu’s own stubbornness that had cost them a promising ga.
Now that sa ga had beco a sharp blade in the hands of a competitor—one that was being swung right back at them.
Mayron Kess finally snapped.
He imdiately summoned the legal departnt to ask about one thing:
Did Mikufu have any way to sue Infinite World and Gastar Electronic Entertainnt?
After careful discussion, the senior lawyers concluded that this route wouldn’t work.
Gastar Electronic Entertainnt was no pushover—they had a legal team even stronger than Mikufu’s.
That team specialized in copyright litigation.
If Mikufu tried to go head-to-head with them legally, the outco would likely not be favorable.
Hearing this, Mayron Kess understood.
These people were useless.
All they could do was stand by and watch Gastar Electronic Entertainnt taphorically squat on Mikufu’s head and take a dump.
And to be fair, Gastar Electronic Entertainnt had done everything flawlessly.
Back when Infinite World was preparing to move under Gastar’s wing, Takayuki had already instructed his legal team to eliminate all legal risks at the source.
If Infinite World had even the slightest copyright issue, Gastar Electronic Entertainnt would never have touched it.
Even if Takayuki genuinely wanted to revive a ga with a ruined reputation, he would never have done so in a legally reckless way.
What Mayron Kess couldn’t understand was this: If the ga wasn’t profitable, what exactly was Takayuki trying to achieve? What future could possibly co from supporting a ga that didn’t make money?
What he forgot—completely—was player trust.
By now, player trust in Gastar Electronic Entertainnt had reached the absolute maximum.
Look at what they’d done.
They produced countless excellent gas.
More than that, they had a knack for discovering great gas others overlooked—and nurturing and promoting them.
They could even identify gas with bad reputations that still had the potential for a coback.
Gastar Electronic Entertainnt’s judgnt had beco its most powerful weapon—the reason players were willing to trust them blindly.
Under such circumstances, even if Gastar released a few bad gas in the short term, players would still trust them without question.
That level of trust was built over years—day after day—not sothing that could be achieved overnight.
No matter how hard he tried, Mayron Kess simply couldn’t grasp video gas on that level.
Next, he reviewed the current revenue and returns of Mikufu’s ga division.
Recently, investnt had been high, but inco was low.
Most of their gas had entered a period of decline. The teams had tried developing live-service titles, but none had succeeded.
Not every company had the DNA to run long-term live gas. Most studios were better at producing short, fast projects—make a quick profit, then move on.
Overall, Mikufu’s ga division was still technically profitable.
But frankly, that level of profit didn’t et Mayron Kess’s expectations.
He’d hoped video gas could help subsidize his hardware R&D.
Now it looked like that wouldn’t happen anyti soon.
anwhile, online calls to boycott Mikufu’s products were growing louder.
It was easy to predict that Mikufu’s gas would sell even worse in the near future.
Unless their ga quality could overpower the doubts and resistance—and convince everyone.
But did Mikufu’s ga division have that ability?
Obviously not.
Especially now that key team mbers had resigned—any such capability was practically zero.
For the first ti, Mayron Kess felt truly tired.
He never expected that after building up a ga division, he’d still end up with so little to show for it.
Money and reputation were both falling fast.
So... was it finally ti...?
Mayron Kess frowned deeply, clearly torn.
He didn’t know whether he should make this decision.
At the sa ti, in the headquarters of Gastar Electronic Entertainnt, Takayuki was reviewing a new ga proposal.
Recently, he hadn’t arranged for any specific new projects or sequels.
Partly because he felt that ga developnt in this world had matured—it no longer relied entirely on him importing gas from his previous life.
This world now had its own unique gas, many of them of high quality.
So maybe... was it finally ti to fulfill an old dream?
To retire? To live freely, spend ti with his wife and children, and just play the gas he loved?
He thought about it, then shook his head.
He probably wouldn’t be able to sit still for that long.
But acting as a supervisor—overseeing early planning and mid-developnt—was sothing he could definitely do.
In his hands was a proposal for a traditional role-playing ga.
"Traditional" in the sense that it followed a classic heroic narrative: a brave hero, a princess, a dragon, a great calamity—standard, even cliché elents.
It was also a turn-based, tactical RPG.
In the eyes of most ga companies, this kind of project was already obsolete.
Few modern players were interested in such gas anymore.
But Takayuki found it genuinely interesting.
The proposal was extrely thorough.
From gaplay to chanics, the systems were deep and complex.
This ga... kind of felt like Divinity: Original Sin.
He’d once seriously considered making a ga like that himself.
But with too many other projects in developnt, he’d had to shelve the idea.
He rembered that soone had already tried developing gas in this niche with his support, achieving modest success.
Now, the proposal on his desk was a training project from one of the departnts—a chance for them to try sothing different.
Budget: around 10 million USD.
Takayuki thought for a mont, then decisively signed his approval.
Selling just two or three hundred thousand copies would nearly break even.
Even if it lost money, the loss would be minimal.
So why not let them try?
If it failed, it could still serve as training for new developers.
He was actually quite curious what a "parallel-world" version of Divinity would look like—and hoped they’d finish it sooner rather than later.
He set the docunt aside and leaned back, idly thinking about what to do next.
Honestly... there really didn’t seem to be much left for him to worry about.
Everything at the company was running smoothly.
He could truly afford to be a hands-off boss now.
Just as Takayuki was lost in thought, his executive assistant burst into the office, clearly anxious.
"President—President, look at the news! Mikufu... Mikufu just announced sothing huge!"
"Sothing huge?"
"Yes! Mikufu announced they’re going to split off their ga business!"
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