"Artificial intelligence?" Ayano Tsukino looked at Takayuki, who had uncharacteristically lost his usual composure, and was clearly surprised.
"AI... I've heard there's been so developnt in related fields recently. Sothing about automation, self-driving vehicles, and voice assistants, I think..." Ayano said as she tried to recall.
Everyone else in the room turned to look at her.
"Takayuki, are you thinking of applying artificial intelligence to video gas? That's... honestly sothing I've never even considered."
Takayuki nodded firmly. "Exactly. AI—artificial intelligence. I want to bring it into ga developnt."
Ayano's voice trailed off as her brow furrowed and she began thinking deeply.
AI, huh?
It wasn't exactly her area of expertise.
...
After all, her primary focus these days was the gaming industry. The Stanford team she led had always worked on ga-related programming.
AI was a relatively new field in this world, having only erged in the last couple of years.
There had been so early breakthroughs in autonomous driving, with a few new car companies pushing it forward—but widespread application was still a long way off.
Oh right—Ayano suddenly rembered that her alma mater, Stanford University, had once invited her to visit a digital research lab. They wanted to show her a match where an AI competed against a top human StarCraft player.
In the end, the human won—a 14-year-old genius from South Korea. If it weren't for age restrictions barring him from official international tournants, he might have instantly beco the world's #1 StarCraft player.
South Koreans really did have an intense passion for StarCraft, and that obsession had produced several prodigies over the years.
Of course, their success wasn't just due to player enthusiasm—their governnt had long supported the industry. And behind the scenes, Gastar Electronic Entertainnt had quietly played a major role in supporting StarCraft's global operation.
Many of the ga's top tournants were handed over to Korean organizations for managent, with Gastar only collecting licensing fees.
Being able to sit back while another country promoted your ga? That was sothing only Gastar could pull off.
But that was a tangent. Back to AI.
Ayano vividly recalled that, even though the human won, the boy had to put in serious effort. At one point, he nearly believed he was going to lose.
That match had taken place more than a year ago.
She rembered how the lab's lead researcher had been thrilled—even in defeat. They had promised that once their next-generation AI was complete, it would dominate StarCraft and crush all human players.
The researcher had estimated the next version would take two years to fully train—not due to technical limits, since the AI system itself was already mostly complete, but because the learning and optimization process would take ti.
They needed to raise a "monster."
Ayano had almost forgotten about that encounter—until Takayuki's ntion of AI brought it all back.
"But... where do we even start?" she murmured, feeling slightly lost. Maybe she should reach out to that Stanford lab?
While she pondered, Takayuki spoke up: "Are there AI research teams at Stanford or Boston University? We can invest in them directly. I know most of you might not understand yet how AI can integrate into ga design, but if soone can just make a working demo, I think you'll all get it."
Everyone exchanged uncertain glances.
They were ga developers—AI still felt like a distant concept.
Maybe in the future, this new discipline would eventually rge with gaming. But for now, they were still stuck in traditional developnt paradigms.
Takayuki looked at Ayano. "Can you reach out to a team like that? A top Arican university must have one."
Snapping out of her thoughts, Ayano nodded. "Yes, actually—I happen to know a group working on AI. I ca across them by chance."
"Perfect! Get in touch with them as soon as possible."
"Alright."
Ayano still wasn't quite sure how AI and gas could be combined—but this was Takayuki's request.
He was the company's top executive. And more importantly, her husband.
...
In the United States, inside a private building just outside Silicon Valley, dozens of young people were in the middle of a heated discussion.
It was about AI learning—its current progress and the path forward.
So believed the AI had reached the computational limit and it was ti to reveal their results.
Others argued that it wasn't ready yet—it needed more ti.
"Our funding's running low. Stanford didn't back us just to beat StarCraft pros with AI."
"But our StarCraft AI 2.0 still isn't perfect. It's got small flaws—exploitable loopholes."
"We could launch while continuing to train it. At least that would show the school we're making progress. Otherwise, we might lose everything."
Among the team were drears, realists, and visionaries. But they all shared one goal.
Now they were split—release a not-quite-ready AI to buy ti, or hold off until it reached their ideal vision?
"Professor, please decide. We'll go with whatever you say."
All eyes turned to a man in his fifties.
Caught in the spotlight, the professor froze. He really didn't know what to choose.
"I..."
Ring ring—
Ring ring—
The professor, like grabbing onto a lifeline, quickly said, "Excuse , let take this call!"
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