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As Leo chewed on a piece of tempura shrimp, a translucent blue window flickered into existence in the corner of his vision.
[Target: Aki Tomoya. State: Existential Crisis / Severe Self-Doubt. +500 Points.]
Leo paused, his chopsticks hovering mid-air. Five hundred?
He glanced down the table at Tomoya. The boy was staring at his half-eaten sushi with a look of profound nausea, his face pale and clammy. Whatever Eriri had said about his lack of a proposal had hit him with the force of a truck. He wasn't just discouraged; he was questioning his entire identity as a "creator."
Internal Monologue: 1,200 points total. That opens up the Tier 2 items in the System Shop. Tomoya isn't just a producer; he's a renewable gold mine. It's almost cruel... almost.
Leo felt a flicker of sympathy, but he squashed it. Compassion didn't buy skills from the system. Besides, pressure made diamonds. If Tomoya crumbled now, he was never going to make it in the industry anyway.
"So," Leo said, his voice cutting through the awkward silence like a knife. He decided to throw the drowning boy a rope. "While we wait for the script, we can talk logistics. Tomoya, what's the distribution plan? Are we aiming for a digital release on Steam and DLsite, or are we going old school with physical discs at Winter Comiket?"
Tomoya's head snapped up. The change of subject was a lifeline.
"Ah... well..." Tomoya stammered, his eyes regaining a fraction of their light. "Physical is the dream for any circle, obviously. But the overhead is high. Steam gives us global reach, but the localization costs..."
As Tomoya launched into a shaky explanation of platform fees, Eriri and Utaha exchanged glances. They both knew what Leo was doing. He was managing the team's morale, steering the ship away from the rocks.
Down at the end of the table, Kato Megumi ate a piece of cod roe sushi with mechanical precision.
She didn't say a word, but her eyes—usually blank and unreadable—flickered from Tomoya to Leo, then to the two girls.
Internal Monologue (Megumi): Aki-kun is in over his head. He brought together three monsters—a genius writer, a prodigy artist, and... whatever Leo-kun is. But he has nothing to offer them. He's the captain of a ship he doesn't know how to sail. If he doesn't step up, this whole thing is going to sink.
She saw the cracks in the foundation clearly. Enthusiasm was fuel, but it wasn't an engine. Tomoya was wasting their time, and worse, he was testing the patience of people who didn't suffer fools gladly.
Ideally, someone should tell him, Megumi thought, sipping her tea. But I guess that's not my role. I'm just the ghost member.
Later that Night.
The team dispersed at the station, heading to their respective corners of the Tokyo sprawl.
Leo returned to his apartment in Shibuya. The air inside was cool and filtered, a stark contrast to the humid city night. He kicked off his shoes, loosened his tie, and headed straight for the fridge.
He grabbed a can of ice-cold cola and a bag of cucumber-flavored potato chips. He cracked the soda, the hiss echoing in the quiet room, and popped a chip into his mouth. The cool, artificial cucumber taste was a guilty pleasure he'd acquired recently.
He sat down at his massive desk, waking his workstation from sleep mode.
While many anime-style artists swore by Paint Tool SAI for its line stabilization, Leo despised it. It was too lightweight. For the heavy, painterly style he wanted, he needed the brute force of Adobe Photoshop.
He connected his Wacom tablet, the surface worn smooth from use.
"Time to paint," Leo muttered.
Traditional oil painting was a hassle—mixing pigments, waiting for layers to dry, the smell of turpentine filling the room. Digital painting was cleaner. It was immediate. It was efficient.
He closed his eyes for a second, visualizing the composition.
His brain, enhanced to the peak of human potential, acted like a high-end GPU rendering a 3D scene. He saw the image clearly: The lighting, the anatomy, the texture of the metal.
Hand Stability: Rank A.
He opened a blank canvas, 4000x6000 pixels at 300 DPI. His stylus touched the tablet, and the world fell away.
He didn't sketch. He painted. He blocked in shapes with broad, confident strokes, carving the image out of the digital void.
The Composition:
It was a vertical poster, designed to impose dominance.
At the top center sat the protagonist—a "Demon King" in all but name. He reclined on a magnificent, intricate golden throne that looked like it had been forged from the melted crowns of conquered kings.
He wore armor of black steel and deep azure, the metal battered and scratched, telling a story of a hundred battles. His legs were crossed, his posture relaxed, bordering on arrogant. One hand propped up his cheek, the other held a goblet of dark red wine. His expression wasn't the typical "hot-blooded hero" yell; it was a playful, cynical smirk. He looked down at the viewer as if they were a particularly amusing jester.
Below the throne, struggling under its weight, were shadowy, faceless servants—a visual metaphor for the oppressive feudal society of the world.
To his right, kneeling on one knee, was a maid. But she wasn't a standard anime maid. She had dark, tanned skin and silver hair, her uniform torn and stained with soot. She held a wine jug, her head bowed in submission, but her eyes—visible only through her bangs—held a spark of terrified awe.
In the background, a massive, gothic castle loomed against a sky the color of a bruised plum. An army of soldiers stretched out to the horizon, their spears creating a forest of steel.
It was grand. It was oppressive. It was "Dark Fantasy" distilled into a single image.
Leo worked for hours, his hand moving in a blur. He didn't need to press Ctrl+Z. Every stroke was deliberate. He painted the rust on the armor, the reflection of the castle in the wine glass, the sweat on the maid's skin.
By the time he put the pen down, the sun was threatening to rise over Tokyo.
Leo leaned back, stretching his cramping fingers. He looked at the monitor. The image stared back at him, radiating a dark, majestic power that no light novel cover had any right to possess.
"Not bad," Leo whispered, taking a sip of his now-warm cola. "Let's see if this wakes up the industry."