While Neil was chatting with the host, Charles, footsteps echoed from the entrance tunnel once again. These footsteps were unhurried and steady, powerful yet measured, instantly drawing the attention of everyone present, including the countless viewers watching the livestream.
The camera immediately swung toward the tunnel entrance.
A figure stepped into view. Unlike Neil's polished, stylish outfit, he wore simple dark casual pants and a plain-colored T-shirt.
His build was upright and lean, exuding the particular toughness unique to young men.
His features were clean, with black hair and dark eyes.
He looked no older than eighteen or nineteen, but those eyes were extraordinarily calm, as if they held experiences far beyond his apparent age... and something else, something hard to put into words, a focus bordering on cold intensity.
He walked up to the camera without any unnecessary movements, simply gazing calmly into the lens, his tone flat as he spoke:
"Hello everyone, I'm Medici."
That brief self-introduction was like dropping a depth charge into a still lake!
After a momentary freeze, the livestream chat exploded like a tsunami! The fervor even surpassed the commotion when Neil had appeared!
"Medici?! That's Medici?!"
"Holy crap! The designer of Battlefield: Warhammer 40k looks like this? He's so young?"
"He looks like such a clean-cut kid, how does he make games so brutal?!"
"Devil Medici! That's the Devil himself!"
"Devil Medici! Buff the defenders! You hear me?!"
"Leman Russ tanks needs a nerf! Cadian Shock Troops are way too overpowered!"
"Lord Medici! Please launch the full release! I'm begging you! I'll pay whatever it costs!"
"Medici you monster! Can you make it a little easier? I went in and got destroyed, I can't even play!"
"Same here, my legs went weak the second I hit the battlefield. Is this really supposed to be entertainment?"
"Wheat."
The chat split into two distinct camps: one faction was fervent supporters and players desperate to get their hands on the full version, while the other was "victims" who'd been brutalized by the game, coming to "condemn" him.
And the nickname "Devil Medici," carrying a mix of awe, teasing, and teeth-gritting frustration, instantly flooded the screen, becoming synonymous with Medici himself.
Host Charles, watching the chat spiral out of control, immediately stepped forward with practiced ease, skillfully steering the conversation back on track. With a professional smile, he addressed Medici:
"Medici, welcome to the qualifier venue. It seems the discussion around your work, Battlefield: Warhammer 40k, is... incredibly lively!"
He used the neutral phrase "discussion" to cleverly encompass the polarized storm of public opinion.
Facing the tidal wave of comments and Charles's question, Medici showed no sign of awkwardness or nervousness. His mouth simply twitched upward ever so slightly, forming a smile somewhere between detached and faintly amused.
"Yeah," he nodded, his tone still steady. "I'm honored."
Honored? Whether it was praise or criticism, he seemed to accept it all, viewing it all as a form of recognition. This composure, so beyond his years, caught both Charles and the audience off guard.
Charles smoothly followed up with the question everyone most wanted answered: "So Medici, in the upcoming qualifier round, do you plan to continue developing and refining Battlefield: Warhammer 40k, or are you preparing to take a completely new direction with an entirely different project?"
Medici barely hesitated before giving his answer: "I'll continue refining Battlefield: Warhammer 40k."
He paused, his gaze seeming to pierce through the camera lens to reach those players who were both "condemning" him and eagerly anticipating more. He continued:
"I'm planning to add several brand-new battle maps to the qualifier version, providing more diverse tactical environments.
At the same time, I'll be expanding the weapon arsenal and vehicle types, giving players more options. But most importantly..."
He deliberately paused, as if dropping a bombshell.
"I'll be initially introducing new playable factions, aiming to bring players a richer, more... 'varied' battlefield experience."
New factions!
The chat exploded again, wild with speculation about what new forces might appear.
"Devil Medici, I'm warning you, balance! Pay attention to balance!"
"Please, streamline the design! It's way too hardcore, we can't keep up!"
"My legs went weak the second I hit the battlefield +1, this game is way too unfriendly to new players!"
"Spam."
Facing these pleas, Medici simply glanced quietly at the chat, not directly addressing the calls for "balance" or "streamlining."
His eyes remained calm and unmoved, as if to say: This is the battlefield I want. Adapt to it, or get left behind.
This almost "arrogant" stubbornness only made his supporters more fervent, while making the "victims" grit their teeth even harder.