Chapter 35: Under Studio Lights
Dillion had been inside an Eden Center before.
Training floors.
Sim rooms.
Arena hubs.
Lobby terminals.
He had never been here.
The elevator didn’t have a button for the floor Isla selected. She tapped her badge against a small black panel instead.
Access granted.
The doors slid open to a hallway that felt quieter than the rest of the building.
Soft white lighting.
Muted carpeting.
Glass walls with opaque privacy filters.
No players.
No rankings screens.
No Depth alerts.
Just branding.
Subtle Eden logos embedded into the walls like watermarks.
“This is restricted media access,” Isla said calmly as she walked beside him. “You don’t normally qualify.”
“That’s comforting,” Dillion replied.
“It’s an upgrade.”
They stopped at a pair of double doors labeled:
MEDIA PREP – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
The doors opened before they reached them.
Inside was organized chaos.
Racks of clothing.
Rolling mirrors.
Makeup stations.
Steamers hissing quietly.
Assistants moving with quiet efficiency.
Several heads turned when Dillion walked in.
Recognition was immediate.
“God Slayer’s here,” someone whispered. He tried not to react.
A stylist approached, tablet in hand.
“Dillion Rodgers. Good proportions. We’ll keep it simple.”
“Simple is good,” he muttered.
They led him toward a dressing partition.
“Arms up.” He complied.
Measurements were taken quickly, professionally.
A shirt was selected first.
Crisp.
Fitted.
Soft charcoal.
Then a jacket.
Structured but not stiff.
Dark navy.
Minimal stitching.
On the breast, embroidered cleanly in silver thread:
EDEN
Not large.
Not loud.
But impossible to miss.
Slacks followed.
Tailored.
Clean line.
Modern cut.
He looked down at himself once the jacket was buttoned.
“I feel like I’m about to sell something,” he said.
“You are,” Isla replied.
He glanced at her.
“What?”
“Yourself.” She said as she adjusted his collar slightly.
“This look says disciplined. Grounded. Controlled.”
“I am being controlled.”
“Today you are,” she said evenly.
A stylist fixed the sleeve length.
Another adjusted the jacket shoulders.
One stepped back.
“Turn please.” He did.
“Good.”
They handed him dress shoes.
Polished.
Dark.
Minimal shine.
When he finally stood in front of the full mirror, he barely recognized the reflection.
Bookstore Dillion wore hoodies.
Sora Dillion wore light armor.
This version wore infrastructure.
He looked capable.
Marketable.
Intentional.
He looked like someone Eden would protect.
Isla stepped up beside him.
“You clean up well.”
He exhaled slowly. “This still feels like a lot.”
“It is,” she replied.
She handed him a small earpiece.
“For directional cues. You won’t hear producers unless absolutely necessary.”
He turned it over in his hand.
“And if I say something wrong?”
“You won’t.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
She met his eyes in the mirror.
“Answer honestly. Just… concisely.”
He hesitated.
“Are they really going to push the solo angle?”
“Yes.”
“And Stark?”
“Not relevant to broadcast.”
He didn’t like that answer and she saw it.
“He's not being erased,” she said. “You’re being elevated.”
“That sounds like the same thing.”
“Only if you let it be.”
Before he could respond, an assistant approached.
“We’re ready.”
They walked down another hallway.
This one was louder.
Music faint in the distance.
Crew chatter.
Equipment rolling across polished floors.
The doors at the end opened and
It didn’t look like a newsroom.
It looked like a movie set.
Massive LED panels curved around a circular stage.
Digital water effects rippled across the backdrop.
Lighting rigs hung overhead like mechanical constellations.
Camera cranes moved smoothly.
Producers spoke into headsets.
Screens displayed multiple live angles.
And in the center a girl in pastel blue heels and a fitted blazer bounced lightly on her toes while reading from a cue tablet.
Blonde hair pulled into a neat ponytail.
Bright eyes.
Energy like she’d just had three coffees.
She looked up locked onto him.
Her entire face lit up. “Oh my gosh.”
Before he could brace
She ran toward him.
Not walked.
Ran.
“Dillion Rodgers?!”
She wrapped her arms around him in a full, enthusiastic hug.
He froze, Isla did not but she seemed annoyed.
The girl pulled back just enough to beam up at him.
“I’m Berry!” she said brightly. “Berry Kade. Host of SNN Prime and resident overexcited nerd.”
She stuck out a hand dramatically like she’d forgotten she’d already hugged him.
“Hi!”
He blinked once, she is alot more pretty IRL
“…Hi.”
“You are way taller in person,” she added immediately. “And way less intimidating. That’s good. Intimidating doesn’t test well.”
He glanced at Isla, Isla’s expression remained professionally neutral.
Berry leaned in conspiratorially.
“Don’t worry. I don’t bite. Unless the ratings dip.”
She winked. He stared at her.
“…That was a joke, right?”
“Mostly.” She spun once and gestured to the set behind her.
“Welcome to controlled chaos. We’re so excited you’re here.”
“You hugged him before clearance,” Isla said calmly.
Berry waved a hand dismissively.
“I clear vibes. It’s a talent.”
She turned back to Dillion.
“Okay, so here’s the plan. We’re keeping this energetic but grounded. You’re not the cocky prodigy type. You’re the steady climber. Audiences love steady climbers.”
“I didn’t know I was climbing,” he said.
“Oh, you are,” she replied brightly. “Whether you mean to or not.”
She stepped back and studied him.
“Wow. The Eden jacket really works on you.”
He looked down at the embroidered logo.
“Yeah. It’s subtle.”
“It’s intentional,” Isla said.
Berry clapped her hands once.
“Okay! Sound check just finished up. Dillion, you’ll enter from stage left. We’ll shake hands. I’ll do the dramatic intro because that’s my job and I take it very seriously.”
She leaned in slightly.
“And off camera? I’m actually super curious about what that fight felt like.”
There it was again. 'Felt like'. Another Person adding to his conflict of Real vs Reality
He hesitated for half a breath.
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Isla’s gaze sharpened slightly.
Berry tilted her head, reading the micro-expression instantly.
“Hey,” she said more softly now. “Relax. I’m not here to trap you. I just like stories.”
That energy shifted.
Still bright.
Still fast.
But observant.
Dillion realized something in that moment.
Berry wasn’t just bubbly.
She was sharp.
“Positions!” someone called out.
Berry flashed him one more grin.
“Don’t worry, God Slayer. We’ll make you look good.”
He winced slightly at the title.
She noticed.
“Oh,” she said, lowering her voice just a bit. “You don’t love that, do you?”
“…Not really.”
She studied him for one second longer.
"Interesting."
Then her host smile snapped back into place.
“Great! Let’s go.”
The lights dimmed slightly.
Intro music swelled.
Digital water cascaded across the screens behind the stage.
Dillion stepped toward his mark.
Isla remained just off-camera.
Watching.
Measuring.
Managing.
As Berry took her place under the lights, she glanced at him one more time and whispered just loud enough for him to hear
“Ready to find out who you are on camera?”
The red light flicked on.
And for the first time since Sobek
Dillion wondered if this room was more dangerous than the Aquaduct.
The music swelled.
Clean.
Cinematic.
Recognizable.
Berry stepped confidently into the center of the circular stage as the LED walls behind her came alive with cascading blue light.
Digital water folded into the SNN logo.
She smiled directly into Camera One.
Bright.
Precise.
Controlled energy.
“Good afternoon, Sora!”
Her voice carried effortlessly.
“I’m Berry Kade, and welcome back to SNN Prime, your number one source for verified Depth alerts, ranked movement, and all things competitive.”
Applause track rolled softly beneath her.
Behind her, graphics shifted.
Top Ten Rankings.
“Let’s start with today’s board.”
Images flickered across the screen.
“Rank One remains undefeated — Dominus Vale, the Gravity King.”
Clips rolled.
Stone warping.
Gravity distortion.
Opponents crushed to their knees.
“Thirty-two consecutive Arena victories this season. No signs of slowing down.”
The crowd audio swelled slightly. Berry tilted her head playfully.
“And yes, before you ask, he declined another interview request.”
Light laughter. Graphics shifted again.
“Guild Watch update, Crit Happens continues to climb the regional ladder after a decisive Depth suppression outside the capital ruins.”
A brief shot of Valen’s stormblade.
Then a cut. Berry’s tone shifted subtly.
More deliberate now.
“But that’s not why Sora has been buzzing.”
Behind her, the LED panels darkened.
Water rippled outward.
A massive silhouette rose.
Sobek.
Clips played in slow motion.
The Aquaduct flooding.
Columns cracking.
A towering divine figure.
“The Third God-tier manifestation in recorded Sora history.”
She let that hang.
“And this one…”
The footage cut sharply.
Dillion’s shield braced.
Water twisting.
Final strike.
“…was defeated.”
“By a rogue beginner.”
The crowd track swelled louder.
“Not a top-ranked veteran.”
“Not a sponsored Depth team.”
“Not a legacy guild captain.”
She smiled slightly. “A bookstore clerk.”
Behind her, the headline flashed:
THE GOD SLAYER
Berry turned slightly toward stage left.
“And today we have an exclusive sit-down with the player who delivered that final strike.”
The music shifted.
Lower.
Anticipatory.
“Please welcome…”
She grinned.
“Dillion ‘Water Gun’ Rodgers.”
Stage left.
Dillion stepped forward as his name echoed across the studio.
The lights hit him immediately.
Warmer than expected.
Brighter than comfortable.
He walked out steadily.
Measured steps.
Back straight.
Applause rolled through the studio.
Berry extended her hand.
He shook it.
“Welcome to SNN,” she said warmly.
“Thanks for having me.”
They sat.
Chairs angled slightly toward each other.
Cameras adjusted.
The intro music faded.
For a split second, Silence.
Dillion let his gaze move.
Just once.
Not nervous.
Assessing.
Lighting rig.
Camera crane.
Producer table.
Then Behind the glass partition.
Isla.
Composed.
Tablet in hand.
Watching him carefully.
And beside her a woman in a charcoal suit.
Tailored.
Immaculate.
Still.
Dark hair pulled back smoothly.
Eyes sharp and unreadable.
Alexandra Vale, CEO of Eden Global.
Not smiling.
Not frowning.
Observing.
She didn’t look like a corporate executive.
She looked like someone who made decisions about fate.
About ecosystems.
About people.
Dillion felt something tighten in his chest.
Alexandra’s gaze didn’t waver.
It wasn’t intimidation.
It was assessment.
Like she was measuring load-bearing capacity.
He understood immediately.
This wasn’t just an interview.
This was a stress test.
Watch what you say.
Berry’s voice pulled him back.
The red light blinked on.
Berry’s smile was bright and effortless.
“Before we talk about gods,” she said smoothly, “let’s talk about the tournament.”
The LED wall behind them shifted to a bracket graphic.
Names rising.
Rounds collapsing.
Match results flashing.
“Just a few weeks ago,” Berry continued, “Dillion Rodgers entered a capital qualifier as an unranked beginner. No sponsorship. No guild. No prior recognition.”
The bracket zoomed in.
Quarterfinals.
Semifinals.
VALEN
RODGERS
“And in the semifinals,” Berry said, voice lifting slightly, “you ran into Jerek ‘Stormblade’ Valen.”
Clips rolled.
Wind blades cutting across the arena.
Dillion bracing behind his shield.
Footwork tight.
Controlled.
“You lost,” Berry said plainly.
“I did,” Dillion replied.
“No controversy. No last second upset. Valen won decisively.”
“Yep.” Dillion said with a smile of defeat.
Berry tilted her head.
“So why are we talking about that loss like it was the beginning of something?”
The footage slowed.
Valen stepping back.
Watching.
Evaluating.
“Because after that match,” Berry continued, “Valen personally invited you to join Crit Happens.”
A subtle shift in tone. “That’s not normal.”
Dillion folded his hands loosely in his lap.
“It wasn’t about the win,” he said calmly.
Berry leaned forward slightly.
“Then what was it about?”
Behind the glass, Isla watched carefully.
Alexandra Vale’s gaze did not move.
Dillion answered without hesitation.
“I didn’t fight to beat him,” he said. “I fought to not get beaten.”
Berry blinked once. “Explain that.”
“I knew I couldn’t overpower Valen,” Dillion continued. “I couldn’t outpace him either. So I focused on minimizing mistakes.”
The replay showed it.
Shield positioning.
Spacing.
Damage mitigation.
Water Bullets Flying through the air.
“I wasn’t trying to win the exchange,” he added. “I was trying to survive the next ten seconds.”
Berry’s smile softened, curiosity replacing theatrics.
“And that’s what he saw?”
Dillion nodded once.
“Valen didn’t see someone trying to dominate the match. He saw someone managing pressure.”
A quiet beat.
Berry’s eyes flicked briefly to the monitor, watching the replay again.
“You weren’t playing to fight,” she said slowly.
“No.”
“You were playing to survive.”
“Yes.”
Behind the glass, Alexandra Vale’s fingers tapped once against her arm.
Interest.
Berry turned back to him.
“That’s not flashy.”
She smiled slightly.
“And that’s what got you into Crit Happens.”
“Yes.”
Berry let the audience sit in that.
“A beginner,” she said lightly, “who doesn’t play to win.”
Dillion shook his head faintly.
“I play to last.” The LED wall behind them shifted again.
The Aquaduct flooded into view.
Sobek rising.
“And then,” Berry said, voice lowering slightly, “that mindset meets a God-tier manifestation.”
She leaned back. “So did you take on Sobek in the same manner?”
Dillion glanced, just once, toward the glass.
Isla stood steady.
Alexandra Vale was still watching him like a structural engineer watching a stress test.
“Yes,” he said.
Berry tilted her head. “What does that mean Exactly?”
He answered evenly. “I wasn’t trying to kill Sobek.”
A ripple of reaction moved subtly through the production floor.
“I was trying to survive him.”
Silence.
Not dramatic.
Measured.
Berry studied him for a second longer than planned.
“That’s a very different story than the one trending,” she said carefully.
“It’s the accurate one,” Dillion replied.
Behind the glass, Alexandra Vale’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
Approval.
Not for the humility.
For the control.
Berry didn’t break eye contact.
“You talk about survival like it’s a strategy,” she said. “Most players talk about damage output. Burst windows. Execution.”
Dillion nodded slightly.
“That matters,” he said. “But it’s not where I start.”
“Where do you start?”
“Pressure.” The LED wall behind them shifted again.
Footage from earlier Depth zones played distorted terrain, Named Beast alerts, environmental collapse.
Berry glanced back at the screen.
“You’ve encountered multiple Named Beasts in the last few months,” she said. “That’s not typical for someone at your level.”
“No,” he agreed.
“So what happens when you see that Anomaly alert?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
He chose his words carefully.
“The first thing that changes isn’t the enemy,” he said. “It’s the air.”
Berry blinked slightly.
“The air?”
“In normal encounters,” Dillion continued, “there’s rhythm. Predictable escalation. Named Beasts don’t follow rhythm. They distort it.”
Behind the glass, Alexandra’s focus sharpened.
He didn’t say they were alive.
He didn’t say were aware.
He said distort.
“When an Anomaly manifests,” he went on, “you feel pressure build before the attack even starts.”
Berry leaned in slightly. “Psychological pressure?”
“Environmental. Positional. Timing compression.” He folded his hands loosely again.
“You have less margin for error. So you stop thinking about winning.”
“You think about not dying.”
The LED wall flashed brief clips of previous encounters with Named beast.
Berry didn’t let the moment fade.
“You’ve faced two Named Beasts before Sobek,” she said. “Gnarlfang… and the Minotauras manifestation near the capital ruins.”
A massive, grotesque shape filled the screen.
A rat.
But not a rat.
Its fur matted and bristled. Teeth curved like broken daggers. Its body the size of a bear, hunched and twitching.
GNARLFANG: The Hollow Hunger
Berry turned back toward him.
“You were severely under-leveled during that encounter.”
“Yes,” Dillion said.
“And yet you engaged.”
He hesitated this time.
“I didn’t win that one alone.”
A subtle shift in the room.
Berry’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Oh?”
“I was saved.”
The clip replayed.
Gnarlfang lunging.
Dillion misjudging distance.
The beast’s jaws inches from closing
And then impact from the side. Intervention.
Disruption.
“You almost died,” Berry said, watching the screen.
“Oh yeah, if it wasn't for my shield I'm not sure I would be sitting here right now”
“So why step back into Depth zones after that?”
He didn’t look embarrassed.
He looked reflective.
“Because that fight taught me something.”
Berry tilted her head. “Which is?”
“Pressure doesn’t care about your level.”
The clip froze on Gnarlfang mid-snarl.
“It was like fighting a bear-sized rat with a predator’s intelligence,” he continued. “Unpredictable. Fast. No rhythm.”
“You were overwhelmed.”
“Yes.”
“And someone pulled you out.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t avoid it.
Didn’t redirect.
Behind the glass, Alexandra’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Not disapproval.
Assessment.
Berry folded her hands lightly.
“So the God Slayer started as someone who needed saving.”
Dillion nodded once. “Yeah, pretty much.”
That honesty landed heavier than any boast.
Berry let that breathe.
“And then came the Minotauras.”
The screen shifted.
Stone arena.
Horned giant.
Hammer descending.
Berry’s smile widened slightly.
“This clip,” she said, “went viral two months ago.”
The footage rolled.
Minotauras roaring.
Hammer arcing downward.
Mika frozen for half a second too long.
And Dillion
Stepping in.
Shield up.
Impact.
The sound reverberated through the studio speakers.
The floor had cracked beneath him, dust burst outward. But he held.
Berry glanced at him as the clip replayed in slow motion.
“You blocked that scary strike.”
“Yeah, I remember my arm feeling numb for days.”
“That strike was calculated at triple your durability threshold at the time.”
“I know.”
“You shouldn’t have survived it.”
He didn’t smile.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
Berry studied him.
“You moved before thinking.”
“No. I mean yes I did but I had to save my friend.” he corrected calmly. “I evaluated the angle.”
She blinked once. “The angle.”
“The Minotauras attacks were heavy strikes through shoulder rotation,” he said. “If you intercept before full extension, you reduce kinetic transfer.”
The studio was quiet now.
Even crew members paused.
“You weren’t trying to kill it in that moment,” Berry said softly.
“No of course not.”
“You were trying to protect someone.”
“I refuse to let someone I care about die.”
The clip ended on the frame of Mika behind him.
Safe.
Berry leaned back slowly.
“That video was the first time we really learned about 'Water Gun Rogers'."
He didn’t respond.
“It wasn’t flashy,” she continued. “It wasn’t a finishing blow.”
“It was a block.”
She studied him carefully.
“So which is closer to who you are?” "Are you more of an offensive attacker with a shield or are you a Shield with ability to be an attacker.
“The shield,” he answered without hesitation.
Behind the glass, Alexandra Vale finally shifted her stance.
Interest deepened. Berry smiled faintly.
“And yet,” she said, gesturing to the Sobek footage fading in behind them, “you’re the one who delivered the final strike to a God-tier manifestation.”
Dillion kept his posture steady.
“I don’t chase finishing blows.”
“You chase survival."
“And if that leads to lethal hits?”
He met her eyes evenly.
“Then it means I survived long enough to win the war.”
Silence.
Not awkward.
Measured.
Behind the glass, Isla didn’t move.
But Alexandra leaned slightly toward her and murmured something quietly.
Isla nodded once.
Dillion caught it.
And he understood.
They weren’t just watching his mechanics.
They were watching his psychology.
A player who survives.
A player who protects.
A player who evaluates pressure.
That kind of player can be dangerous.
Berry’s smile returned, polished, effortless.
“Dillion Rodgers,” she said smoothly, “from an unranked entrant to semifinalist against Stormblade Valen… from being saved against Gnarlfang to standing firm against Minotauras…”
The viral shield clip flashed once more.
“And now, the player who delivered the final strike against Sora’s third recorded God-tier manifestation.”
Sobek’s silhouette rippled behind them.
“You didn’t start as the strongest,” Berry continued.
“You didn’t start as the most experienced.” She smiled slightly.
“But you may be one of the fastest learners Sora has seen.”
A soft swell of outro music began.
“We might have to keep our eyes on you.”
She paused.
Then added, almost casually
“Especially with Guild Wars right around the corner.”
Dillion blinked. "Guild what?"
The LED wall shifted instantly.
GUILD WARS
MULTI-STAGE COMPETITIVE SERIES
RISING TALENT DIVISION
The graphic animated in. Guild emblems rotating slowly.
Berry turned back toward him.
“You are aware of Guild Wars, right?”
He kept his expression neutral.
“I’ve… heard the name.” That was technically true.
Berry laughed lightly.
“Then let me fill you in.”
She turned back to Camera One.
“Guild Wars is Sora’s multi-stage competitive showcase where guilds present their rising talent.”
New graphic overlay:
NO CAPTAINS
NO VICE CAPTAINS
UPCOMING ROSTERS ONLY
“It’s specifically designed to spotlight developing players,” Berry continued. “No guild leaders. No established powerhouses.”
The implication hung in the air.
She looked back at him. “Which makes someone like you.”
She let the sentence trail deliberately.
Dillion felt the room shift.
Behind the glass Isla didn’t react.
But Alexandra Vale’s gaze sharpened.
Berry leaned slightly closer.
“Will Crit Happens be putting you forward to represent them?”
There it was.
Live.
No warning.
No prep.
He kept his breathing steady.
“I wasn’t aware this event was happening,” he said evenly.
The studio crew loved that answer.
Berry grinned.
“Well, you are now.” Soft laughter from off-camera.
“It’s a proving ground,” she continued. “A structured elimination bracket across multiple stages.”
Graphics shifted again.
Group stage.
Advancement rounds.
Finals.
“It’s where guilds show the world who’s next.”
Her eyes flicked toward him again.
“And after today… I think a lot of people are wondering if that’s you.”
Silence stretched half a second.
Not awkward.
Charged.
Dillion chose carefully.
“If my guild believes I’m ready,” he said, “then I will take on the challenge.”
Berry’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
He met her gaze.
“I don’t step into pressure blindly, if they think I'm ready then I'm ready.”
That line landed.
Behind the glass
Alexandra Vale’s lips curved faintly.
Interest.
Berry smiled warmly. “Well, Crit Happens might want to start that evaluation soon.”
She turned to Camera One.
“Whether he steps into Guild Wars or not, one thing is certain Sora’s competitive scene just got more interesting.”
Music swelled. “At SNN, we’ll be watching closely.”
She gestured lightly toward him.
“And I think the rest of you will too.”
She faced forward fully.
“This SNN with the Exclusive interview with the God Sl..... Dillion 'Water Gun Rodgers', I’m Berry Kade.”
“See you in Sora.”
Red light off.
Music cut.
Studio noise returned.
Dillion didn’t move immediately.
Guild Wars.
Multi-stage.
No captains.
No vice captains.
Rising talent only.
Behind the glass
Isla was already typing.
Alexandra Vale turned and walked away without a word.
Dillion understood something clearly.
This wasn’t just an invitation.
It was a spotlight.
And spotlights create targets.
