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As the old saying goes, "You don't know the horsepower until you drive the car." Or perhaps, "You don't know the strength of the warrior until the armor comes off."
Let's just say Max had learned a lot about horsepower last night.
The sun was high in the sky when Max finally sat down at his computer. He felt... different. Sore, yes. His back ached, and he was pretty sure he had rug burn on his elbows from the carpet. But he also felt a strange, vibrating energy.
It was the "Forbidden Fruit" effect. He had crossed a line, leveled up, and unlocked a new skill tree called "Relationship." And surprisingly, it was a massive buff to his morale.
He took a sip of coffee (made by Jasmine, black and strong enough to strip paint) and cracked his knuckles.
"Okay," Max muttered to the empty room. "Beautiful day. Beautiful life. Now... I need to make some money."
It was time to get serious.
Sure, Jasmine had mentioned her savings—about $50,000 from her discharge pay and private security gigs. She had offered it to him without hesitation, practically throwing her wallet at his head.
But Max had his pride. He wasn't going to live off his girlfriend/bodyguard/roommate. He was the man of the house (even if she could bench press him), and he wanted to provide.
Game promotion, server costs, the trip to the capital for the Expo... it all cost liquid cash. And while he had 178 million "Emotion Points" in the System, you couldn't pay rent with System currency. You couldn't buy steak dinners with it either.
He needed a revenue stream.
"New game?" Max mused, tapping his chin. "No. Holy Grail War is just hitting its stride. Releasing a sequel now would split the player base. It's too early."
The contest was in full swing. He needed to capitalize on the current hype.
"Monetization," Max decided. "It's time to introduce this world to the concept of... Skins."
In the Fate universe, they were called "Spirit Origins" or "Saint Graphs." To gamers, they were just skins. And gamers loved skins.
Max opened his development tools. He began to scroll through the assets he had locked away.
"Let's see... we have the Casual Wear set. Artoria in a suit. Gilgamesh in his biker jacket. That's good. People will pay $10 for that."
He scrolled further.
"Swimsuit Event. Archer Artoria. Rider Mordred. Caster Marie. That's a gold mine. I'll save that for summer."
Then, he reached the "Craft Essence" art folder.
He paused on a specific image. It was the famous [Dangerous Beast] outfit. It featured the character Mash Kyrielight in a very... strategic wolf costume that covered approximately 5% of her body.
Max stared at it. He imagined the revenue. It would be millions.
Then he imagined Jasmine seeing it. Or the parents of the Dragon Country seeing it.
"No," Max sighed, shaking his head solemnly. "This is too powerful. It's a weapon of mass destruction."
He clicked "Hide."
"I'll keep this one for myself," Max muttered self-righteously. "I'm doing it for the players' health. If I released this, half the server would die of blood loss. I am a benevolent god."
He moved on to the "Sweet Crystal" set (Altera in a nurse outfit). "Hide. Too dangerous. I'll bear this burden alone."
He was truly a martyr for the cause.
Beyond skins, Max had a bigger ambition.
"I need a platform," he realized.
Right now, he was hosting Holy Grail War on the official contest servers and a few mirrors. But if he wanted to build an empire—a Steam or Epic Games equivalent for this world—he needed his own infrastructure.
If he relied on third-party platforms, they would eventually demand a cut. They would censor him. They would try to control his IP.
"I'll build the Chaldea Launcher," Max decided. "A unified platform for all my future games."
But that was a long-term project. First, he had the Phoenix Nest Expo.
The contest organizers had invited the top ten finalists to exhibit at the capital. It was a massive event, televised nationally.
"I need a trailer," Max listed off on his fingers. "I need merch. Plushies. Replica Excaliburs. Keychains."
And then, a thought struck him.
"Cosplay."
He had done some research on the gaming culture of this world. It was... sterile. Gaming conventions here were like business conferences. Developers wore suits. Fans wore t-shirts.
There were no elaborate costumes. No 10-foot-tall Gundams walking the floor. No armies of maids.
"They don't know," Max whispered, a grin spreading across his face. "They have no idea what 'Two-Dimensional Shock' is."
He was going to bring Otaku culture to this world. He was going to turn the Phoenix Nest Expo into Comiket.
"I need cosplayers," Max schemed. "I need booth babes, but... classy. Warrior booth babes."
He looked at the closed door of the bedroom, where Jasmine was currently napping.
Jasmine was 6'6". Muscular. Powerful.
"Barghest," Max whispered. "Fairy Knight Gawain. The Black Dog."
It was perfect. She had the height. She had the build. Put her in that black armor with the giant sword? She would break the internet.
"Or maybe Gorgon?" Max mused. "Nah, the tail is too hard to animate in real life. Barghest it is."
Of course, convincing Jasmine to wear anime armor might be a challenge. It might require another "negotiation" involving steak and... other things.
Max felt his face heat up. "Focus, Max. Business first."
He had a lot to do. Register copyrights. Design the booth. Render the trailer.
"Pressure makes diamonds," Max told himself. "Let's grind."
He picked up his phone to check the contest rankings, needing a little dopamine hit before starting the actual work. He opened InstaTok.
He expected to see fan edits of Artoria. He expected to see "Maverick vs Achilles" highlights.
Instead, he froze.
The trending tab was a wall of red text.
#HolyGrailScam#ProtectOurKids#BanVirtualViolence#SilverwoodExposed
Max's smile vanished. He clicked on the top video.
It was a sleek, highly produced news segment from a channel he recognized as a subsidiary of Vanguard Games media.
A serious-looking anchor was speaking in a grave tone.
"Is the hit game 'Holy Grail War' a danger to society? Experts say yes. With its hyper-realistic violence, gambling mechanics, and disturbing themes of human sacrifice, parents are calling for a ban. And who is the mysterious developer 'Max'? Sources say he stole the code from a defunct project..."
Max watched the video. It was a hit piece. A calculated, expensive smear campaign.
"Treat, Behead, Domesticate," Max whispered, recalling the corporate strategy.
He had refused the treat. Now, the executioner was swinging the axe.
Max put the phone down. The chill returned to the room, chasing away the warmth of the morning.
"So that's how you want to play it, Vanguard," Max said softly. His eyes narrowed, the Count of Monte Cristo's vengeance bubbling up in his chest.
"You want a war? Fine."
He turned back to his computer.
"Let's give you a war."
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