Time slipped into April, and the Jörmungandr anime had finally reached its final episodes. Its superb production quality had drawn in a solid audience—along with a good number of gamers.
Iwasaki Isao was one of them. He had watched Jörmungandr and loved it, which naturally sparked a powerful interest in the game as well.
Of course he wanted to play it. With a game that looked this good, who wouldn't? And GG seemed pretty impressive too.
Besides…
Lately he'd been seeing giant GG promo boards all over the streets. You could tell at a glance they had cost a fortune.
A game that spent this much on advertising couldn't be bad.
Iwasaki didn't trust SEGA very much, but he trusted Atlus.
That evening, after finishing a round of basketball, he was riding his bike home alone when something at the corner of his vision caught his eye.
Good thing his reflexes were sharp—he slammed the brakes and stopped just centimeters before running over the object.
"What… what is this?!"
He jumped off his bike for a closer look. A green, rough-looking plastic shell, simple in design, with a familiar connector at the bottom meant to slot into a console.
Iwasaki gasped.
A game cartridge!
Whose cartridge was this? If no one wanted it… he was absolutely taking it!
He glanced around. Only a single bicycle was slowly pedaling away in front of him—didn't look like that person dropped it.
"Hey! Is this yours? If not, I'm taking it!"
He stuffed the cartridge into his pocket, turned around, and pedaled home taking every shortcut he knew, as quietly and as quickly as he had ever moved in his life.
If it belonged to no one, then it was his!
When he got home, his parents weren't back yet. Perfect. He immediately turned on the TV, rubbing his hands together like an excited housefly.
Game cartridges were expensive. Even bootlegs weren't cheap. As a high schooler with little pocket money, he loved games but couldn't afford to play often.
A free cartridge? Priceless.
He slotted it into the console. The screen flickered—then the title screen appeared.
"Jörmungandr… huh?!"
Iwasaki inhaled sharply.
Wasn't this the exact anime he'd been watching? And the game everyone said wouldn't release until May? So what was this version he held?
His mind turned to mush. He didn't even think of the word "leaked." Only one idea formed in his brain.
He was the chosen one!
He was the child selected by the Salamander fighter!
He was destined to become a god!
Play!!
Since it was a preliminary cartridge, there was no manual. Iwasaki had to figure out the controls himself.
But that didn't stop him from quickly sinking into the game.
With no close friends and no girlfriend, of course he piloted his fighter alone.
Games of this era had limited memory, so they jumped straight into gameplay without opening cutscenes. Contra-style intros were still years away. The anime had already told the story—so the game just threw you straight into battle.
Even though it was all pixel art, the fighter looked startlingly similar to the one in the anime, which raised his expectations even more.
"So it's kinda like Galaga…"
"Huh? Huh?! They're moving! Everything's moving!"
His eyes widened at the lively screen. He was so shocked that his hands fumbled uselessly.
This is up. This is down. This button fires.
Before he even understood the controls, he flew straight into a line of incoming enemies and exploded instantly. Game over.
"Argh! My synchronization rate still isn't high enough!"
He clenched his fists.
He would raise his sync rate. He would save Earth!
In what felt like moments, he had already played deep into the night.
When his parents came home, they didn't stop him. He wasn't aiming for university anyway—staying up gaming wasn't a problem.
Besides…
His mother didn't get it, but his father seemed unexpectedly interested. Eventually the two of them plugged in a second controller and played together.
Just when Isao had begun mastering the controls, his father's addition…
…actually made things harder.
He kept confusing the two fighters, and even though he was getting the hang of it, his father wasn't very good.
Hours slipped by. Father and son grew more familiar with the game, breaking through barrier after barrier. They finally understood the difference between speed upgrades and firepower upgrades. The twin Salamander fighters pushed toward the end.
Isao's excitement surged. He gripped his controller tighter.
"I must become one with this fighter!"
Beside him, his father said nothing, but his grip tightened as well.
Ahead was a short empty stretch—no enemies. A glowing power-up drifted in.
A sign. Something terrifying awaited at the end.
A boss.
The word wasn't widespread yet, but every region had its own version.
Sure enough…
The moment they reached the end, they saw the stage boss.
A—
crack
flash!
The screen went pitch black.
"Huh?!!"
Isao shot to his feet.
The TV broke?
No.
The game ended.
Because when he switched off the console, the TV returned to normal.
"That's way too frustrating!!" he groaned.
"Maybe the cartridge wasn't inserted properly. It's late anyway," his father said. "We'll play again tomorrow. I'm sure we'll reach the ending."
Isao nodded.
He still hadn't reached one hundred percent synchronization, after all!
…
…
There was one thing Kobayashi Tetsu would never tell anyone.
The leaked cartridges were personally modified by him. They were programmed to cut off right after the first stage boss. After that point: pure black.
Unless someone cracked the code to inspect the contents, they would assume the most common possibilities—loose cartridge, faulty console, broken TV.
Only after replaying two or three times would anyone suspect the cartridge itself.
And since they had found it on the street, they would naturally assume it was damaged—not deliberately altered.
Salamander was already difficult. Kobayashi Tetsu had even tweaked the leaked version to make reaching the first boss harder.
Everything unfolded exactly as he planned.
Five cartridges were dropped. Four were picked up. One vanished. Those four pickers all had their own circles. People who picked up random cartridges were either scrap collectors… or gamers.
Word spread, then spread again, then spread further—each retelling more embellished than the last.
Before long, countless potential customers had heard the rumors.
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