Chapter 54

Another chapter for you, you delicious little things.

(This delay was Easter's fault, not mine, so blame the bunny that delivers chocolate, not me.)

...…..

Everyone began to scream, applaud, and gasp at what they had just seen. The judges and the other finalists were shocked. William Freeman was frozen, feeling his vision blur slightly.

The judges felt a slight tremor. They couldn't fully understand everything in that trailer, but one thing was clear—Alexandre Lockhart had completely stolen the spotlight from their games. After this, no one would be talking about their new releases.

One of the biggest reasons they had accepted participating in this competition was precisely because this final presentation was a great opportunity for promotion. Without that, joining this competition had been a huge waste of time for them.

While everyone was lost in thought or still immersed in excitement, they noticed the sky was still dark.

"What happened? Did the hologram malfunction?"

"It's already over?! Why is the sky still dark?"

"My heart is still racing… Hmm… Is it not over yet?"

As everyone began to question it, the orchestra was preparing. Albert took a deep breath and looked at Maria, who was hiding offstage to avoid drawing attention. He smiled and took another deep breath. At that moment, a new phrase appeared.

[Phase One]

[Fallout]

A slow, calm song began to play. A small flickering lightbulb appeared, and Albert's voice echoed everywhere.

[I don't want to set the world on fire.

I just want to start a flame in your heart.

In my heart I have but one desire.]

The loud, clear voice gave off a strangely vintage feel. The scene slowly pulled back from the lightbulb, revealing an old radio, then the surrounding environment.

A rust-covered old bus appeared, slowly moving away. The surroundings became clearer—the bus was cut in half. The music grew distant, and the city came into view.

Everything was destroyed—collapsed buildings, broken roads, even the sky was dark. Then, a voice began to speak.

"No one expected them to fall.

We thought it was just an illusion, maybe an unfounded rumor, just another conspiracy theory.

But who would've imagined that the hunger of war would reach us? That the desire for violence and revenge would be strong enough to swallow our world whole?"

The narrator's voice was hoarse and deep, carrying obvious exhaustion. His words held a sadness and regret so palpable it was almost physical. The scene changed to a small residential street, flashing a few times—showing everything destroyed, then intact again. The music shifted, becoming slightly more upbeat, even lightly cheerful.

After the screen flashed a few more times, the scene focused on a beautiful wooden house with a small garden and a white picket fence. Inside, a happy family sat at the table, preparing for breakfast.

A woman in a beautiful white dress with shoulder-length wavy hair was cooking something on the small stove. At the table, a young girl in a pink dress chatted cheerfully with her younger brother.

"George, can you get the bread?"

A man walked in with a big smile.

"Why, of course! One step I go, another I return, haha!"

He approached, kissed his daughter's cheek, ruffled his son's hair, then walked up behind his wife. He hugged her from behind, pulled her into his arms, dipped her back, and kissed her happily.

"Oh, George, stop that, hehe. Go get the bread already."

She spoke with a slightly red face and a smile, fanning herself with her hands. George laughed heartily and left the house, wearing brown formal pants, a white shirt, and suspenders. A robot with a round head and tentacle-like arms handed him his hat.

"Thank you, Mark."

"You're welcome, sir."

He put on his hat and walked happily down the street, greeting neighbors who responded with equal cheer. Soon, he arrived at the bakery, picked up the bread already prepared for him, and without a word, tipped his hat slightly to the baker.

Then, the narration returned.

"The war was close, proving how fragile life can be…

Proving that when the apocalypse comes, no one is safe.

Proving that blood can be spilled for any reason—for God, for justice, for revenge, or simply for psychopathic rage."

At that moment, the scene focused on George's back. A light seemed to illuminate the world—a tremor followed by a hurricane of wind, then a massive mushroom-cloud explosion.

George began running home, but as he got closer, the scene started flashing—showing everything perfectly normal, then completely destroyed. He walked toward the house, the scene changing faster and faster until it stopped on total devastation, revealing the house's ruined state.

The white picket fence was gone. The garden had turned to blackened earth. The freshly painted house was half-destroyed. The music grew heavy.

The scene showed George from behind, approaching to open the door. He was still wearing the same clothes, but they were torn and worn. As the door opened, he stepped inside with slow steps.

At the table, two small skeletons sat in chairs. In front of the broken stove, an adult skeleton sat on the floor.

He kissed each skeleton, then sat in a tattered, broken armchair, his face shadowed by his hat.

He reached for an old radio beside him, tapped it lightly, and Albert's song began to play. Removing his hat revealed a gray, rotted, disfigured face.

"But after everything, one thing became clear.

War… war never changes."

...…..

POV: William Freeman

...…..

Screams, applause, laughter, praise, gasps of surprise—all of it surrounded me, yet somehow, all those sounds felt muffled.

In front of me: bright lights, the orchestra, the choir, the ocean of people. Above, the end of a trailer that sent chills down my spine. But all of it seemed blurry to my eyes.

All I could see was him—Alexandre Lockhart—standing before everyone, casting a shadow so large it seemed to swallow me whole.

Watching his back, I felt my throat tighten. Standing in his shadow, my body turned cold. Hearing the crowd's excitement, my eyes burned.

Seeing him raise the trophy and wave goodbye to the crowd, I felt tears streaming down my cheeks.

(I knew I couldn't win… I knew I hadn't reached that level yet… I knew it was pointless to keep going… I knew… but… but deep down… I still had hope.)

I didn't sob. I didn't scream. I just lifted my head and let the tears fall, clapping as he left the stage. I wanted to say this doesn't affect me, that I'll just do better next time.

But that's not true. It feels like everything I've done is useless—all these years wasted. It reminds me of a phrase I once heard:

(Being second place is worse than being last, because it means you worked harder than everyone else… just to end up with the same result as last place. Defeat.)

My mind began to spin. I couldn't think. I just stood there, dazed, looking around—until I saw my family.

My father and mother were waving at me, smiling. Seeing them cleared my mind.

(What am I thinking? This wasn't useless… My father, who never supported me, is now on my side. Even if my game lost, I created so many new things that will help me go even further… Yes, this isn't over yet.)

I wiped my eyes and left the stage without waiting for my turn to speak. I don't know how these guys have the courage to try presenting anything after what that guy just did.

I heard the host say something, but I didn't care. I have something to do—I can't let this pass. So I ran offstage, down the stairs, through dimly lit hallways—until I saw that guy's back.

"WAIT."

"Hmm? Ah, you're William, right?!"

He turned around, confused, then smiled at me. But that only made me more determined to wipe that smile off his face.

"Things aren't going to stay like this."

"Eh? What do you—"

"Don't think you can just show up out of nowhere and casually walk your way to becoming number one."

"I—"

"Listen, Lockhart. I won't let you overshadow everyone and climb alone. I admit you're good… But I won't lose. I guarantee that the next top designer will be ME."

My heart was racing, my breathing ragged. I didn't even know what I was saying, but I felt so much lighter.

"Hehehe… Hahahaha."

He just looked at me for a few seconds before bursting into laughter—not a mocking laugh, but a genuine one.

"....."

"Sorry, haha, I'm not laughing at you… Well, maybe a little."

My face burned with embarrassment, but I didn't regret it. I just stood there, staring at him. He took a breath, walked closer, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"It's easy to talk, but I'm running toward my goal. Tell me: Can you stop me?"

He looked straight into my eyes, making my body stiffen slightly. But I didn't come here to back down.

"I won't just stop you—I'll surpass you."

"Hehehe."

"Your games were good, but you'll need a lot more if you want to beat me."

He smiled slightly, patted my shoulder, then turned to leave. With his left hand in his pocket, he raised his right and waved at me over his shoulder.

"I look forward to seeing what you can do, Freeman."

Watching him walk away, I clenched my fists tightly. Without realizing it, a smile appeared on my lips.

(Just wait, Lockhart. Our competition has only just begun.)

...…..

POV: Alexandre Lockhart

...…..

As soon as I left, I started laughing again.

(He really sounded like an anime character. I thought he was gonna challenge me to a Shokugeki, hahahaha!

Guess he won't work for me unless I beat him and his family in a duel, hahaha.)

While laughing, I couldn't help but think that there were probably many other designers who felt the same way. Being the top designer wasn't just about being the best game developer.

The greatest designers in the universe were usually involved in massive projects spanning entire planets. For example, the current capital planet was entirely designed by Eric Wallace—the current top designer in the universe.

This man was over 800 years old and had designed more than 200 planets—every city, every building, every house. And, of course, the most popular game in existence was also his.

The man was a true monster. If a new planet was discovered, if a capital needed to be built, if a new military training environment was required—Eric Wallace was the one they called.

That was his throne—the one every designer in the universe wanted to take. And that was the place where I would stand.

"Alexandre, could you come with me?"

While lost in thought and laughter, a competition staff member called me over. I needed to sign some papers to claim the rewards.

It took a while, but once I was finally free, Mom and Meli came running to hug me. But before we could celebrate, Grandma Maria, Albert, and Jade showed up.

"Kid, you should've seen your face when you noticed us, hahaha! I should frame that."

Albert laughed loudly before I could say anything. Jade ran up and hugged me.

"I knew you'd win."

As she hugged me, I caught a whiff of her soft perfume, the warmth of her body pressing against mine. I smiled, wrapping my arms around her waist.

"So… Did I impress Miss West?" I whispered in her ear.

She squirmed slightly, pressing closer, letting me feel her scent even more.

"Maybe. At least now I can say you have something more than just a toned body and a dumb face."

"Hey, now I'm offended."

"Oh really? And what are you gonna do about it?"

"Alright, you two can cling to each other later. Right now, it's time to celebrate!" Meli said excitedly, making Jade jump back, her face red.

(Hehe, still a long way from being able to tease me.)

"So how did you guys manage to get here?"

I couldn't help but ask Grandma. The orchestra had grown a lot, but not enough to be invited to this kind of event.

"Money, kid. Money can solve almost any problem."

"Wait… You paid to perform here?"

Grandma laughed.

"Of course! This kind of event was perfect for promoting our work. When I was a rookie singer, I also paid to perform at high-profile events. It's great for exposure."

"Like they say—spend money to make money. Now, everyone's waiting. We made reservations at a restaurant nearby."

I stared at Albert, wide-eyed. This was the capital—prices here were high enough to give an old man a heart attack. And he made reservations for the entire orchestra? That's over 200 people!

"Don't look at me like that, kid. It's just pocket change."

I glanced at Grandma Mari and realized why.

(Show-off old man.)

...…

The next chapter will be the last of the competition arc, covering people's and the industry's reactions to Alex's trailer.

After that, time skips will begin. I'll write chapters explaining what's happening every few years, with some slice-of-life moments.

If you have any ideas for games that could be part of the Omega Project, let me know! I plan to make each game have its own explorable space in the universe, along with small additions to the overarching story.