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Chapter 268: The Wild Clout from the Industry
🕑 Added 2025-09-07 07:23:00 +0000 UTCWhen the X post dropped, Gus Harper was chilling, no stress.
Blitzkrieg tactics? Always a banger.
Sure, it was 3 a.m. in Seattle, the city dead quiet. But the world’s a spinning ball—while Seattle slept, the East Coast was sipping afternoon coffee.
At 3 p.m. in New York, Will Brown, head of United Media Technology Network (UMT)’s joint development, scrolled X over a latte. As a GDC organizer, he’d pushed to invite WindyPeak Games—then a small fry—breaking the big-studio mold. So, he followed @WindyPeakGames and @GusHarper like a hawk.
“Oh? New game drop?” Brown muttered, spotting @WindyPeakGames’s handle. His eyes lit up—WindyPeak only posted for big news.
Scroll.
“Ward—what the—cough!” Coffee sprayed. Brown choked, slamming his mug down, tears in his eyes.
It took a minute to recover. He reread the post.
Holy—?!
Five seconds of shock. Then he grabbed his phone, dialing Jimmy Lawrence, IDC’s public sector chief, who was probably slacking on Twitch.
“Lawrence! Komina’s managing director jumped to WindyPeak! It’s a damn gift!” Brown yelled.
“What—?!” Lawrence, mid-stream, bolted upright, CPU spinning. “You high or something?”
Komina’s number two, joining WindyPeak? The Sekiro vs. Torii beef had been raging for years. This was like Gus Harper defecting to Komina to run their show.
“No, check X! WindyPeak’s official post! It’s wild!” Brown urged.
Lawrence, skeptical, opened X. WindyPeak’s post was front and center. “Ah—oh!”
Ah: It’s real. Komina’s game division head defected. Oh: Tetsuya Moritan. Lawrence remembered him from that “accidental like” scandal.
Shocking but… kinda made sense.
Ten seconds of silence. Brown and Lawrence processed the bombshell.
Then Lawrence’s voice dropped, ominous. “Brown… you hold a ton of Komina stock, right?”
Brown hissed. “You too?”
“Shit…”
“Shit…”
“Sell, sell, sell!” Brown yelled.
“Already dumping!” Lawrence shouted back.
This was sci-fi-level insanity. Why would Komina’s second-in-command jump ship? But one thing was clear: Komina’s stock was about to tank.
A massive shockwave hit the gaming industry, rippling into tech. Komina’s execs got the news, despite the late hour. Stock markets don’t sleep.
At 3:30 a.m. in Tokyo, Kenji Ueyama, woken by a shareholder call, sat in his villa’s study, clutching his chest. His temples throbbed.
Huff—huff—huff. He stared at his screen, X blowing up, Komina’s stock plummeting.
Ueyama had half-expected Tetsuya Moritan to join WindyPeak. Their bromance was no secret, even if he wasn’t 100% sure Tetsuya leaked secrets.
The plan? Fire Tetsuya at dawn, let PR smear him as a traitor. No other studio would touch him—except WindyPeak. Tetsuya would slink to Seattle, branded a sellout.
But damn, WindyPeak moved fast. Twelve hours from Tetsuya leaving Komina to their X post? Seamless.
Bang! Ueyama slammed his desk.
He grabbed his phone to call PR. They think they can poach my guy and flex? I’ll bury them.
Komina would announce Tetsuya’s firing, hype the “secrets” leak, and slam WindyPeak for shady tactics.
But then—refresh. A new post.
A photo of beer bottles and sake, with a caption from @GusHarper: Epic night drinking with @TetsuyaMoritan. True friends are gold. I’m just a humble dev, but I’ll treat him like a VIP. Big thanks to @KominaCorp for your support. Wishing you prosperity! (heart) (heart) (heart)
Ueyama read it thrice, hand frozen mid-dial, brain buzzing.
You “gave him up”? I “took your talent”? Screw you!
Bang! His phone hit the floor.
“Damn clowns!” Ueyama roared.
He wasn’t senile. Gus’s post was a velvet-gloved threat: We’re calling this a friendly split. Play nice, or we’ll play dirty.
Gus was holding a knife to Komina’s throat. As a top-tier game giant, Komina was being punked by a mid-sized upstart.
Worse, they had to eat it. Komina was bleeding from Torii’s $245M flop, stock tanking, and three directors gone. A PR war with WindyPeak? Suicide.
WindyPeak had Sekiro’s $350M sales, Zoey Parker’s Parker Capital cash, and IndieVibe and Nebula Games as muscle. IndieVibe ran clean hype; Nebula played dirty with leaks and shade. Komina couldn’t handle that heat before, let alone now.
Popping heart meds, Ueyama’s teeth ground. I’ll swallow this… for now.
Next morning, Komina posted, pained: @KominaCorp: Wishing @TetsuyaMoritan a bright future. To @WindyPeakGames, keep climbing!
X exploded. “Posting through the pain!” users cackled, mocking Komina’s forced smile.
Media swarmed:
Amicable split or poaching? Komina’s director joins WindyPeak!
WindyPeak snags a titan!
Komina’s stock craters! Is this the end?
After Yamamoto Studio’s collapse, Koizumi Studio disbands. Kazu Okura out. Komina’s darkest hour…
Six months after WindyPeak’s Sekiro ambush, Komina waved the white flag.
The score? Komina: Torii’s record-breaking 3S flop, Koizumi Studio gone, Tetsuya Moritan out, stock in freefall. WindyPeak: Sekiro’s 9.9 score, second only to To the Moon, $350M in one month, and Tetsuya Moritan as their new star.
The gaming world buzzed, mourning Komina’s fall and hyping WindyPeak’s three-year glow-up.
But both sides were too busy to care. Komina was cleaning up its mess. WindyPeak? Plotting Peak Nation.
Two days after Tetsuya’s hiring post, he flew from Tokyo to Seattle, joining WindyPeak as deputy director, equal to Luke Bennett and Jake Rivers, under Zoey Parker and Gus Harper.
Tetsuya was stoked. He came for Gus, and deputy director put him right under his wing. The team? No complaints. Tetsuya was Komina’s ex-number-two, with mad experience and connections. He was slumming it at WindyPeak.
With Tetsuya on board, post-Sekiro WindyPeak was charging toward the big leagues, ready to go global.
Their first shot? Peak Nation.
In the conference room, Gus gestured to Tetsuya. “Now, let Director Moritan break down the Peak Nation plan…”
