The news about Northstar Games launching its new websites spread fast.
The announcement had only been out for one day, but by the very next morning, Northstar had already moved into full recruitment mode. It did not waste time with empty promises or vague planning. Once Ethan Reed and Vivian Frost made a decision, the whole company moved like a machine that had already been waiting for the signal.
Northstar began hiring editors for novels, editors for comics, operations staff, customer support teams, and technical workers for both platforms. The recruitment notices were posted online, and the standards were unexpectedly flexible in the areas that actually mattered.
For the novel site, Northstar welcomed people who had spent years writing on web fiction platforms. Even if they only had an associate degree, as long as they had strong reading sense, good judgment of trends, and enough experience to understand what readers liked, Northstar was willing to bring them in.
For the comics side, those who had drawn webcomics before or had deep knowledge of serialized comic publishing were given clear priority.
This approach made many people in the industry pause.
Northstar was not hiring people based on appearance or polished resumes alone. It was hiring people who actually understood the work.
In just three days, Northstar officially signed more than one hundred people.
At the same time, the company started designing the official logos for Northstar Chinese Website and Rachel Quinn Comics, while entire office zones were prepared for the two new departments inside the Northstar building.
When the officials of Lumen City heard the news, they were delighted.
This was exactly the kind of development they wanted.
More hiring meant more talent flowing into the city. More talent meant more business, more recognition, and more reasons for outside companies and workers to pay attention to Lumen City.
Not long ago, the city rarely made national headlines for anything good. Outside the tourism season, many people barely noticed Lumen City at all. And even during tourism season, attention often came from negative stories, scandals, or temporary controversy.
But now things were different.
Because of Northstar Games, Lumen City had become a place people actually talked about with excitement.
So the local authorities expressed full support. Relevant departments even reached out to Vivian Frost personally and told her that if Northstar needed any assistance, they only had to ask.
But at least for now, Northstar did not need anything.
The company had money, manpower, momentum, and the kind of public support most businesses could only dream of.
During the summer, many Northstar fans had shifted part of their attention away from games and toward animation. Now, with the launch of a novel site and a comics platform, that excitement spread even further.
College students started thinking, Could I write a novel too?
Small artists wondered, Could I publish a comic there?
Writers in the industry, especially veteran authors, paid very close attention.
Northstar's intentions were obvious.
It wanted both.
It wanted stories, and it wanted the full chain of adaptation.
If a novel was good, it could become a comic. If the comic performed well, it could become animation. And if it became popular enough, it could eventually feed right back into games.
That kind of structure was incredibly attractive.
Still, veteran authors were not fools.
They had seen too many new platforms appear full of confidence, only to collapse after a few months.
A company starting a novel website was not unusual.
A company keeping it alive was another matter entirely.
So even though Northstar had a strong reputation in games and animation, experienced authors held back. They watched. They waited. They wanted to see the actual contract terms, the pay structure, and the long-term commitment.
They were like old rabbits in a field.
Until they saw real grass on the ground, they would not move.
A week passed quickly.
By the end of August, with autumn almost arriving, the temporary teams for Northstar's two new departments were nearly complete.
That morning, Ethan Reed and Vivian Frost walked side by side through the Northstar building. As they passed through the corridors, unfamiliar faces kept glancing at them.
Some spoke in whispers.
"Is that the boss and the boss's wife?"
"That sounds weird. Calling Director Ethan the boss's wife makes no sense."
"I actually saw Ethan Reed in person! I want to ask for an autograph. I love Overwatch."
"Which department are you from?"
"Third group, Chinese Website. You?"
The moment Ethan and Vivian stepped into their private elevator, the noise outside was cut off.
Ethan looked at Vivian, thought for a second, then said, "We should probably change the company badges a little. Right now all the departments are mixed together. I can't even tell who belongs where."
Vivian nodded immediately.
That short walk alone had made the problem obvious.
Dozens of employees had greeted her, and she had nodded back with a calm smile, but in truth, she had no idea which department most of them belonged to.
If it were not for the badge scanners and security at the front entrance, even she would have had trouble confirming who was actually a Northstar employee.
The two newly established departments already had around one hundred and fifty people combined. And that number included far more than editors. There were operations teams, customer service, technical support, maintenance workers, and internal platform staff as well.
It was still a small team compared to the game division, but for two websites that had only just been born, it was enough for the opening stage.
Vivian crossed her arms and thought for a moment.
Then her eyes brightened.
"What if the badges had different background designs?" she said. "The game department could use a controller. Music could use an instrument. The novel department could use a book. Animation could use a little screen."
Ethan smiled at once.
"That's actually a great idea. Let Zach call the badge supplier later."
It was simple, but it worked.
Each department could be recognized at a glance, and it added personality to the company.
As for whether outsiders would think it looked childish or unprofessional, Northstar had never built its success by obeying outside expectations. If the company had cared too much about looking serious, it would never have become what it was now.
The elevator doors opened on the twelfth floor.
This floor was entirely dedicated to conference rooms. Small rooms, medium rooms, and giant halls stretched across the whole level. Northstar had prepared it for future growth long ago, and now it was finally being used at full scale.
Ethan and Vivian entered one of the conference rooms, a room named High Mountains and Flowing Water.
Inside, more than a dozen people were already waiting.
The moment they saw the two enter, everyone stood up.
"President Frost. President Reed."
Vivian walked forward without hurrying and said evenly, "No need to be nervous. You were chosen as acting department heads and chief editors because your resumes were strong. But if your abilities do not match your positions, you can be replaced at any time. So take this seriously."
She sat down in the main seat.
Beside it was another chair, placed there for Ethan.
That was one of Northstar's habits.
Other companies might have one central seat at the head of the table.
Northstar always had two.
That had become part of its culture long ago.
As Vivian sat, the room seemed to shift subtly around her. She normally looked relaxed, lazy even, but when she needed to carry authority, it came naturally. Her background, her upbringing, and her status all showed through in that quiet pressure.
She turned her attention to the head of the novel division.
"Manager Hector Xin," she said, "tell me how you plan to operate Northstar Chinese Website."
Hector Xin was a plain-looking man in his early forties. At first glance, there was nothing special about him. But once he began speaking, his confidence was obvious.
He had spent sixteen years in the web novel industry. He had changed platforms multiple times, worked as chief editor on major sites, and even led editorial operations on a large fiction platform before joining Northstar.
He might not have been the most famous name in the business, but he was definitely one of the most experienced.
He cleared his throat and said, "President Frost, I've already used my contacts to bring in a first batch of strong authors. Some have achieved over ten thousand paid subscribers before. They'll serve as the opening lineup for the site and provide our first group of flagship works."
Several people beside him nodded.
Many of the editors now sitting in Northstar had followed Hector over from previous companies.
He continued, "But this alone won't be enough. A novel platform needs volume. Readers need options. We need a full library, not just a handful of showcase titles. So during the initial stage, the most important thing is to attract writers with better benefits than the market."
"Explain," Vivian said.
Neither she nor Ethan truly understood the inner mechanics of novel platform operations. They had built the site because they had money, vision, and a desire to expand the company's creative structure, not because they had personal experience in web fiction management.
To put it simply, Northstar had so much money coming in that spending it was not a burden at all.
The profits from Pokémon Go and the larger Pokémon brand alone were enormous. When that was added to the income from their other projects, Northstar's monthly earnings were already at a level most companies could not even imagine.
So they were prepared to spend.
Hector leaned slightly forward.
"First, our attendance bonus must be higher than the industry standard. Ideally twenty percent higher. Second, we should launch annual and semiannual awards by category. Fantasy. Myth-Arc. Light novel. Romance. Action. Use cash prizes and promotion packages to build excitement."
Ethan and Vivian listened carefully.
Within the web novel world, this kind of structure was not new. But that did not make it bad. In fact, it meant the structure worked.
Vivian asked, "What are the full attendance bonuses on other sites right now?"
"Usually eight hundred, one thousand, or fifteen hundred," Hector answered. "If we set ours at two thousand, we'll immediately pull attention from across the market."
Two thousand was not an unbelievable amount.
But the meaning behind it was huge.
For web novel authors, attendance bonuses worked like clock-in pay. If a writer could not consistently produce four thousand words a day, then surviving in that field was already difficult.
Web novels were not high literary fiction. Readers did not come for deep philosophical analysis or perfect prose. They came to be entertained. They wanted interesting characters, exciting plots, and enough updates to keep them hooked.
So reliability mattered.
Hector continued, "With a two-thousand attendance bonus, plus even modest sales, many authors can secure three to four thousand a month. That stability is enough to attract a lot of writers."
Vivian nodded.
"No problem. What about revenue split? I saw online that the market standard is fifty-five to forty-five."
Hector smiled.
"Yes. And if possible, I'd like us to offer sixty percent to the author and forty percent to the platform."
Ethan frowned. "Wouldn't that hurt profitability?"
"Not at all," Hector replied at once. "That's the old way of thinking. Years ago, platforms mainly depended on subscription splits. But now the real money is in copyright development."
He began counting them one by one.
"Comic adaptations. Animation rights. Film and television rights. Game licensing. Merchandise. Audio drama. Fan derivatives."
Then he looked at Ethan and said, "President Reed, that's where the real profit is. If the platform succeeds, we create our own closed loop. We hold the rights to good stories, then adapt them ourselves into comics, animation, or even games."
That immediately made sense to both Ethan and Vivian.
Especially Vivian.
As she watched Hector speak with such clarity and confidence, she had a strange feeling.
This man looked like an actual professional.
A real executive.
Unlike most of Northstar's game division.
Daniel Reed, Evan Cross, Lucas Frost… even Ethan and Vivian themselves hardly looked like traditional management at all.
Vivian made the decision on the spot.
"Then we'll do it your way," she said. "Two-thousand full attendance bonus. Sixty-forty split in favor of authors. Annual awards and ranking bonuses."
Hector let out a relieved breath.
"Understood, President Frost. I won't let you down."
After that, Vivian turned to the comics side and asked for the operating plan of Rachel Quinn Comics.
Since Rachel Quinn already oversaw the wider animation structure, the day-to-day planning for the comics platform was being handled by the chief editor under her.
His strategy was similar to the novel site in broad direction, but with key differences in detail. Comic production cycles were longer, update speed was slower, and reward structures had to be adjusted accordingly.
The discussion lasted for over an hour.
By the time it ended, the two platforms had truly taken shape.
They were no longer just ideas.
They were now official parts of Northstar Games.
Back in their office, Ethan and Vivian made one more call.
Then the publicity department launched everything at once.
The apps for both websites went live.
The platforms officially opened to the public.
And for the first time, the public could see the actual benefit structure.
The reaction was immediate.
Shock spread across both the novel and comic communities.
"What? A sixty percent author split? With no performance requirement?"
"Are these semiannual awards serious? If my book does well, I could make almost thirty thousand in six months!"
"Northstar is insane. They're actually paying this much?"
"Rachel Quinn Comics already has dozens of Japanese comic licenses!"
"Registering gives fifty reading coupons? And they're real coupons, not fake promo garbage?"
"Brothers, hurry up before the benefits disappear!"
Yes, Northstar had done exactly that.
It offered benefits not only for creators, but also for readers.
High compensation to attract authors.
Generous rewards to attract users.
It was a classic money-burning opening move.
And it worked.
To many companies in the industry, this felt outrageous.
Almost unfair.
Almost like market disruption.
But to authors and readers?
It felt like salvation.
The industry had been controlled for too long by a few massive platforms. Because of that monopoly, writer treatment had worsened, revenue shares had stagnated, and readers were paying more and more.
Then Northstar entered the field like a warrior kicking open the gates.
And suddenly people began to hope.
Let them fight, everyone thought.
Let the giants finally bleed a little.
Because right now, the only company truly capable of shaking the balance was Northstar Games.
Unlike other platforms, Northstar had no outside capital controlling it. It had not gone public. It had not accepted external investment. It was still standing on its own foundation.
And the only person in the world who could possibly challenge Vivian Frost inside her own company…
Was Ethan Reed.
If that was not a one-man kingdom, then what was?
So the people watching could only cheer.
Northstar had entered the field.
The market was no longer safe.
And for ordinary creators and readers, that was the best news possible.
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