In the previous production update, I talked about the decision to develop K/A and M/N in parallel. At the time, this was primarily an architectural decision: not to split the two routes into separate production eras, but to build them as two sides of the same story.

This month, that idea moved from planning into production. The Act Two preview block is now complete in scope and has already been sent out for voice recording.

This is a full-fledged slice of the game: 10 files, 16 named roles, 2,256 lines, and more than 14,000 English words to record. In practice, this is the first major test of Act Two not only as text, but as a future visual novel: with rhythm, voices, scenes, pauses, and actor performance.

For me, this is an important milestone. Voice acting strips away self-deception very quickly. As long as the text lives inside a script file, it can seem coherent simply because the author still holds the whole structure in their head. But when a character has to differ from the others not only by function, but by voice, breath, the way they apply pressure, avoid an answer, or fall silent—that is when the real test begins.

Because at the core of everything I am making lies the study of human beings. That is why people read in the first place. Not for the world, not for the plot, not for the ideas. All of those are powerful tools, but they only work when a living person passes through them.

You can write hundreds of pages about Ardena’s political system, the physics of chronite, or the structure of the university—and the reader will still yawn. But when Yura clenches his fist in his pocket and feels his fingers go numb; when he cannot scrub his own past off his hands; when Yesya silently cuts bread because she is afraid to say one word too many—that is when the reader stops being an observer. They become an accomplice. And that is the only thing that makes literature, and the visual novel script as its own unique hybrid form, truly alive.

That is why I prepared the script for voice recording: we cleaned out technical noise and arranged the material so the actors could work with living text instead of fighting their way through technical markup. It is boring production work, but it is exactly the kind of work that decides whether a scene can be performed—or drowns in chaos.

The visual side is moving forward in parallel. Over the past month, materials for several Act Two characters have progressed. Among them is Klara Keller, the managing editor of Vesna. In the K/A route, she is a person who deals with consequences: someone has to do more than burn with enthusiasm. Someone has to put the issue to bed, meet the deadlines, edit other people’s texts, and keep the editorial office from collapsing under the weight of its own temperament.

Work on Galina Avrorovna Ulyanova has also been wrapped up—Katya’s mother and Secretary of the Central Committee for Organizational-Party Work. This is no longer student-level politics, but adult party politics: apparatus, responsibility, discipline, and the need to make decisions with more than the heart.

Work also continued on Lucia von Falkenstein and the visual language of House Falkenstein. The task here is not simply to create an impressive design, but to create the feeling of power that does not need to shout. The coat of arms, the scars, the titles, the archive, the regulations, the office, the seal—all of it should say one thing: the player is facing a person of the system, one where violence knows how to look legitimate, and almost noble.

Right now, the preview is being assembled into a playable state: voice recording, localization, visuals, sound, implementation, pacing checks, and edits once the text starts to be spoken aloud. This stage is less romantic than writing large dramatic scenes. But this is where the text stops being an Early Access promise and starts becoming a game.

Thank you to everyone who follows the project, reads the updates, and adds Cycle of Struggle: Ardengrad to their wishlist. I’m continuing the work.