Starting as a Manga Editor-Chapter 90: Testing Underway

Rumi felt like she was losing it… Her heart felt like it was being clawed at by a cat—completely restless.
It might have been just dynamic CG, but the production was really cool!
The problem was… what the h*ll was even happening!!!
Fate/Zero hadn’t even finished serialization yet, and here the game was kicking things off with the canon story from Fate/stay night.
To help players get immersed faster, Tang Yao had recreated some iconic Fate/Zero scenes and even the ending that Nasu had eventually confirmed—all within the game.
If it were the official release, it wouldn’t be a big deal.
By then, Fate/Zero would probably be finished.
But at this moment? It wasn’t! Which made it really unpleasant for players!
Like seriously—
If you’re going to spoil it, spoil the whole thing!
Why only part of it!?
Rumi clutched her phone, visibly agitated.
But soon, she didn’t have time to care anymore, because the prologue quickly transitioned into the Fifth Holy Grail War.
Emiya Shirou’s voice came through—
【I remember his face. A man with tears in his eyes, genuinely happy just to see someone alive.】
【He looked so joyful, it made me think… maybe it wasn’t me who got saved, but him.】
The timeline had officially entered the Fifth Holy Grail War.
The scene of Kiritsugu and Shirou talking under the eaves appeared on screen.
“Eh? Kiritsugu’s son?”
Rumi was instantly drawn in.
The story continued.
And slowly… she forgot all about the time.
…
At the same time—
Another 2,000 players had entered the game.
Their reactions were similar to Rumi’s—stunned, amazed, confused…
But the number was still too small.
Most of the readers drawn in by Fate/Zero were still hanging out on the forums, waiting for someone with beta access to talk about the game.
Unfortunately—
Most of the lucky few who got access were too busy playing to post on forums.
So no real testers were showing up.
Instead, a bunch of fake ones started popping up—not exactly trolls, but people pretending they were part of the closed beta, giving fake descriptions of the game…
And of course, what they described wasn’t good. Not at all.
So the forums were full of worried readers.
After all—
To the vast majority of readers, Fate/Zero was a pure, high-quality manga… possibly the most pure, since it wasn’t even serialized in a magazine.
At first, many readers thought it was a shame the manga didn’t run in a magazine.
But as the story developed—with the pace picking up, each chapter packed with excitement and big moments—many changed their minds. Some were even glad.
Because readers believed that the reason Fate/Zero was so good, with every chapter delivering something huge, was because it had no restrictions.
If it were serialized in a magazine… they seriously doubted it could be this good. After all, most magazine series were long-running, and the pacing inevitably dragged.
If a manga blew up in popularity, even if the author wanted to move fast, the magazine wouldn’t be happy about it.
Examples of this existed not just in this world—Tang Yao’s past life had plenty too.
Most magazines’ strategy for popular series was simple: stretch it out forever, totally disregarding the author’s vision.
The most famous example? Akira Toriyama. The later part of Dragon Ball was basically written under pressure.
And it was the same in this world.
There were very few mangaka who could write ensemble casts, adult themes, innovative settings, and stunning art—while keeping every element tightly connected.
Readers felt that Fate/Zero was perfect just the way it was.
But if commercialization got involved… things would change. Even if the quality didn’t drop immediately, what if…
What if the manga started shifting toward long-form storytelling, like magazine series?
What if the pacing slowed?
What if it lost the charm that made it special?
Or even worse—what if it changed its art style just to fit the game?
Readers had definitely seen that before.
In fact, a huge part of Fate/Zero’s success came from its independence—every chapter was explosive and fast-paced, the exact opposite of the dragged-out magazine model.
So yeah, readers were very worried. Once commercialization entered the picture, the manga might change.
And then Fate/Zero… wouldn’t be Fate/Zero anymore.
The forums were flooded with pessimism.
Even the comment section under the manga was full of stuff like:
“If you have to license it, please don’t change the art style, okay? Please keep it the way it is! Don’t lose the essence—I’m begging you, Teacher Third-Rate!”
“Let me be real—if it’s just for the game, the manga’s probably done for… I don’t care if those people on the forum are real beta testers or not, but I won’t play a Fate/Zero spinoff! I strongly urge Teacher Third-Rate not to change the art style just for a game! Please!”
“I’m not playing either! I’m scared… but I know you need income. How about this, Teacher Third-Rate—release a printed volume! I promise I’ll buy it! I’ll buy the hell out of it! You’ll make money that way! Don’t worry!”
“I don’t know if those forum posts are real or not… but the more I read, the more worried I get. What kind of garbage game is this? Please, Teacher Third-Rate—don’t go down that path! We don’t want the game!”
“…”
…
At the same time—
At Wenxin Press.
Zhao Fangsheng looked at Shang Tao with a puzzled expression. “A game?”
“Yes.”
Shang Tao had just finished his and casually mentioned the rumor he’d heard.
After all, in the manga community lately, Fate/Zero had been blowing up.
Li Xue had said that all the major magazines were paying attention—it wasn’t a joke.
“…A terrible misstep. What a pity.”
Zhao Fangsheng shook his head slowly after hearing the full story. “It’s such a shame… such a good concept, such an incredible IP. It could’ve become one of the most profitable manga IPs. But now? Free web release, and a game, with no plans for long-term serialization. This IP is basically ruined…”
Back when Fate/Zero first launched, he had tried reaching out to “Teacher Third-Rate.”
But as the story progressed, he gave up.
Because he had a sense that Fate/Zero was never intended to be long-running.
That didn’t align with the interests of the publishing industry—a hit manga with no plans for longevity?
And now a game?
As the Vice President of Wenxin Press, Zhao Fangsheng knew what today’s game companies were like. Wenxin had similar collaborations—those companies just wanted to milk the manga’s popularity for quick cash.
The result was always disappointing—getting slammed by players, while the manga got dragged down for no reason.
Magazines could weather the blow. But for an independent mangaka? Not so easy.
In Zhao Fangsheng’s eyes, Fate/Zero was on the wrong path.
He could already see what was coming: the game would launch, get blasted. Casual players who never read the manga would play the “garbage game,” then flame it.
The manga’s commercial value would take a hit.
And because it didn’t seem to be a long-running series, they couldn’t ride out the damage over time. With one failed commercial venture on record, any future partnership opportunities would have to be re-evaluated.
Meaning—
The moment the manga ended, its massive commercial potential would vanish with it.
What a waste.
Thinking of this—
Zhao Fangsheng shook his head again and said, “I think Fate/Zero is close to its end. No need to monitor it anymore. It's no longer relevant… Though, it could serve as a textbook case to warn other mangaka and editors.”
…
Meanwhile—
Despite all the noise and issues—
Avalon Studio remained relatively calm.
Tang Yao stood behind Kang Ming and asked, “Has everyone entered the game?”
“All two thousand players are registered.”
Kang Ming let go of the mouse and hesitated. “I think they’ve all started playing.”
“Good. Focus on their feedback.”
Tang Yao nodded. “We’ll wait for the data to come in. Head home a little early today.”
“Yeah… but are you okay?”
Kang Ming turned around, looking at Tang Yao, who had been unusually calm the entire time.
“What could happen to me? It’s just a small bump.”
With that—
Tang Yao waved her hand and walked back to her desk.
Kang Ming stayed silent, staring at her back. Thinking of how he’d been shaking like a leaf earlier, he once again felt like a total failure…