The Allbright System - A Sci-Fi Progression LitRPG Story

The room was dead silent.

“Weeks,” the station boss snarled, pacing back and forth behind the glass wall of the editorial pit. “Weeks since the first Assessment wrapped up. Weeks since the western front lit up every internal metrics board the UHF has. And you’re telling me that none of you—not a single Emperor-fucking-one of you—managed to get even a scrap of an interview with the newest star Recruit of the UHF?!”

No one answered. A chair scraped loudly. Someone flinched.

“Do you have any idea how long that is in a news cycle?!”

The boss’s voice cracked through the bullpen.

“How hard is it,” he continued, now quieter, more dangerous as he paced, jabbing a finger at no one in particular, “to throw Credits at the right fucking officers and get your useless asses on the damn ship? Or at least set up a Void-blasted DDS meet?! We’ve done this countless times, people. This is not new. This is not complicated.”

He slapped the datapad in his hands against his palm so hard it cracked.

“Last year’s top Recruit? Two days. Two days from Assessment finish to prime-time interview! And now? Weeks. And you’re telling me that all you have is the Emperor’s pubic hair wrapped in his own farts?! After weeks?!”

More people flinched.

“Our name alone should open doors,” he went on. “APNN has been the first stop for every major Recruit story for decades. And now you’re telling me you can’t even get a call back? Not an interview, not a date for official releases, not a even fucking estimate?! People trip over themselves to get on our channel! And yet here you are—empty-handed.”

Silence stretched, the Boss's rage spent—for the moment.

The highest-ranked editor in the room cleared his throat.

“S—Sir,” he said carefully. “We… Ehh… We’ve tried all of that. Literally. All of it.”

The Boss’ head snapped to his highest-ranked editor.

“What?”

“We—We offered premium prime-time slots,” the editor continued. “Above anything we’ve ever put on the table before. We multiplied our standard Credit offers several times over. Beyond what we would even really be allowed to spend without your approval, Sir. We leaned on every contact we have. The response has been the same every time.”

He swallowed. “T—The UHF is locking this Recruit down hard, Sir. Harder than anything I’ve ever seen. We haven’t managed to get basic background information. We don’t even have a name yet.”

Stunned silence.

“We’re waiting on the official Alpha Squad highlights broadcast later this week just to see their face for the first time.”

The boss stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

Slowly, the fire drained out of his expression, replaced by something colder—and visibly more unsettled.

“…I—I see,” he said at last.

He straightened his jacket, voice quieter now. “Then… I guess we will have to try a lot harder going forward.”

No one spoke.

“If the UHF is truly clamping down this hard on even basic information…” he continued, almost to himself, “then this Recruit isn’t just a story. They’re the story. A bona-fide UHF asset. One worth their weight in Credits many, many, many times over.”

He looked around the room again.

“And we are going to get the first interview. I don’t care what it costs, you understand me? This first interview will make or break the next year’s news cycle, if not longer. If the UHF is protecting this Recruit to this level, this isn’t just another run-of-the-mill Drive. Whatever this Recruit means to the UHF, we will find out, you hear me?”

He saw nods around the room, hesitant at first, but then more determined.

He smiled.

“Good. Get me that interview. I don’t care what it takes. You are authorized to offer every incentive you can possibly think of. If it takes me personally interviewing that Recruit naked, with the Emperor’s own asshole permanently embossed on my chest with a 3D Holo-tattoo, then so be it. Get. Me. That. Interview!”

—

[Transcript Excerpt — Internal Feed Leak, Aquila Prime News Network, PFC943]