Still Saturday, 31 May 1999. Zaboru remained relaxed after his long conversation with his ghost companion, the faint presence still lingering in the back of his mind. He was still inside ZAGE Tower, unhurried, calm, as if today were just another ordinary workday—despite the fact that today marked the release of Hitman Agent 47 - The Blood Money, alongside two other ZAGE titles launching simultaneously. This particular release, however, held special aning for him. Zaboru had personally decided that this Hitman entry would be based on "The Blood Money" from his previous life, a title he rembered clearly as one of the finest showcases of Hitman's core philosophy: freedom through design, and the elegant brutality of so-called "Accidental Kills."
Zaboru let out a quiet chuckle, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Hitman will start fast in this world, hehehhe," he muttered to himself. He knew the risk, but he also understood the series better than anyone else in this tiline. Hitman was never ant to be a straight line from one installnt to the next. Each ga stood on its own, almost like separate case files, unified not by chronology but by the cold professionalism of Agent 47 himself. The essence of Hitman was never about story continuity—it was about demonstrating just how capable Agent 47 could be when the player was given space to think, observe, and execute.
Because of that, Blood Money was the perfect entry point. It introduced the philosophy cleanly: objectives were fixed, but thods were limitless. From there, future sequels could circle back and reinterpret elents from Hitman 1 and Hitman 2, rebuilding them with expanded chanics, smarter AI behavior, and far more opportunities for accident-based eliminations. Zaboru had already envisioned it clearly—each sequel would deepen the sandbox rather than restrict it.
Of course, there were compromises. This ZAGE version of Hitman would not quite match the graphical fidelity of the original Blood Money from Zaboru's previous world. That ga was released in 2006, after all. While technology in this world was roughly three to four years ahead of what 1999 should realistically allow, it still wasn't enough to fully replicate the original's level of detail. Even so, the result was more than impressive. Character models, lighting, and environnts pushed realism further than any other ZAGE title released to date. For its ti, it looked exceptional—perhaps even the most realistic ga ZAGE had ever put out so far so Zaboru is not worried about the graphics overall.
anwhile in the USA Saturday 31 may 1999.
Edward Seven was currently a college student, juggling his studies with a part-ti job at KFC. His days were usually spent rushing between lectures, greasy late shifts, and quiet nights alone in his small rented room. Video gas were his escape, but not just any kind. The gas he loved were filled with chaos, tension, and violence—sothing raw and grounded. Fantasy worlds and sci‑fi settings never really clicked with him; dragons, magic, and space lasers felt distant and overwhelming. What he wanted was sothing closer to reality, sothing that felt dangerous and personal. That was exactly why, since last month and continuing even now, he had been completely absorbed in ZAGE's newly released GTA on his ZEPS 3. The freedom, the streets, the danger—it was perfectly "his kind of ga."
So when he heard about Hitman Agent 47 - The Blood Money, his excitent was impossible to contain. Early that morning, he headed straight to the official ZAGE Store, heart pounding slightly as he imagined the ga waiting on the shelves. This ti, he wasn't buying for his console—this was for his PC, the machine he had slowly upgraded piece by piece with his hard-earned paychecks.
"Hehehe, I can't wait to get my hands on this," he muttered under his breath. He had already done his howork, carefully reading through the minimum requirents listed in ZAGE POWER magazine. His PC should be able to run it—maybe not perfectly, but good enough. As he stood there, his eyes briefly wandered to other titles on display. "Hmm… should I buy Dragon Quest V or ZAN - The Samurai Cowboy as well?" These are other 2 ZAGE gas that were released today he wondered for a mont, lips pursed in thought. Almost imdiately, he shook his head. "Nah… not my taste."
Edward grinned to himself. Hitman was different. He already knew the the, the tone, and the kind of gaplay it promised. Silent movent, careful planning, and death that looked like coincidence—it sent a chill down his spine in the best way possible. This wasn't just another ga. He could already feel it. This one was going to pull him in completely.
Not long after, Edward finally got what he had been waiting for—the PC copy of Hitman Agent 47 - The Blood Money resting firmly in his hands. The weight of the box alone made him grin. Once he was back in his room, he wasted no ti. He slipped the disc into his PC and watched the installation bar crawl forward, minute by minute. Around twenty minutes passed, but it felt longer to him, every second stretching as anticipation built. As always, ZAGE gas installed smoothly, without errors or strange pop‑ups, a quiet reassurance of quality he had co to trust. The mont the installation finished, Edward didn't hesitate. His hand moved quickly to the mouse, heart pounding as excitent made his whole body feel restless, almost vibrating in his chair.
The screen faded to black, and then the familiar ZAGE logo appeared, accompanied by the iconic tune—"ZAA GEE!"—clean and confident. Edward smiled instinctively. Imdiately after, the Team Tempest logo followed, crashing onto the screen with sharp thunderclaps and rushing wind effects that filled his small room with sound. The atmosphere shifted instantly, darker and heavier. As the logos faded, the ga transitioned smoothly into its opening sequence. The tone was clear from the very first second: this was not a loud or flashy introduction. This was deliberate, controlled, and cold. The opening cutscene began, setting the stage as it started to explain who Agent 47 truly was.
Rain is heard before anything is seen—slow, steady, patient. NARRATOR: They say there is no such thing as a perfect assassin. Only mistakes that have not yet been discovered.
A city drowned in rain. Neon lights sar across wet streets as crowds move without ever looking up, each person locked into their own routine. Cars pass. Footsteps echo. Life continues, uninterrupted. NARRATOR: But so n do not live by chance. They do not rely on luck. They are built to remove it.
Inside a quiet hotel corridor, carpeted and softly lit, a door opens at the far end. A man steps out wearing a black suit, a white shirt, and a red tie pulled into perfect alignnt. His pace is calm, deliberate, as if the outco has already been decided. NARRATOR: He does not blend in by looking ordinary. He blends in by being invisible.
At the back of his head, hidden from casual view, a barcode rests against pale skin—precise, clinical, unmistakable. NARRATOR: No na. No past that matters. Only a designation.
Preparations unfold in silence. Gloved hands assemble a weapon with surgical care. A disguise is adjusted before a mirror. A glass is placed gently on a table. Above a crowded room, a chandelier sways almost imperceptibly. NARRATOR: Where others see chaos, he sees patterns. Where others see danger, he sees timing.
Among music, laughter, and celebration, he moves through the crowd without drawing a single glance—first as a guest, then as a waiter, then as no one at all. NARRATOR: He does not threaten. He does not rush. He prepares.
When death arrives, it does so quietly. The music falters. A body collapses just out of sight. A glass shatters across polished marble as panic spreads without direction. NARRATOR: When death cos, it wears the face of an accident.
Later, in a bathroom lit by cold fluorescent light, he washes his hands as blood disappears down the drain. He straightens his tie and studies his reflection—eyes empty, unreadable. NARRATOR: No anger. No satisfaction. Only completion.
Outside, on a rain-soaked street glistening under streetlights, sirens echo sowhere in the distance—already too late to matter. He walks away, dissolving into the city as others rush toward the noise. NARRATOR: They will search for answers. They will bla chance. They will bla fate.
And they will never look for him. NARRATOR: Because perfection leaves no trace.
The screen fades to black. The logo appears.
Hitman Codena: 47 — The Blood Money.
Edward was genuinely delighted. Goosebumps ran up his arms the mont the control finally shifted fully into his hands. "Ooooh! My goodness, let's go!" he shouted, leaning closer to the screen as his fingers tightened around the keyboard and mouse. His heart was racing now, a wide grin spreading across his face as the opening monts turned into real gaplay.
"Oh my f*cking god… the graphics!" he blurted out again, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is insane." The lighting alone caught him off guard—the way shadows clung to walls, how characters moved with weight and intent, and how the environnts felt grounded and real rather than artificial. It didn't look like a typical ga anymore; it felt like he was stepping into a living space.
As he continued the gaplay, Edward found himself slowing down without realizing it. He stopped rushing forward, instead carefully observing corners, watching NPC movents, and experinting with the controls. Every small action felt deliberate, every choice carried weight. The ga wasn't telling him how to play—it was daring him to figure it out himself. And that realization only made his excitent grow stronger.
Edward began properly learning the controls, testing each movent carefully as if the ga itself were watching how he behaved. He walked instead of running, crouched behind furniture, and experinted with how close he could get to NPCs without drawing suspicion. The mouse felt precise, responsive in a way he hadn't experienced before. Even simple actions—opening doors, switching weapons, blending into crowds—felt intentional, almost weighty.
When the first stage of Blood Money fully opened up before him, Edward froze for a mont in disbelief. The objective was clear, displayed plainly on the screen, but everything else was left open. There was no single path forward, no glowing arrow screaming where to go next. He could sneak through service corridors, disguise himself, observe routines, or simply wait and let the world move on its own. Every room hinted at possibilities.
He tried one approach, then stopped midway, backing out to test another. A mistake didn't an failure—it beca information. He watched guards talk, noticed how doors were locked or left unattended, and slowly began to understand that the level was less like a hallway and more like a living puzzle. The target existed sowhere within it, but how Edward reached that mont was entirely up to him.
The realization hit him hard: the ga trusted him. It wasn't forcing creativity—it was rewarding it. As he explored further, ideas naturally ford in his head, one after another, each more daring than the last. By the ti he paused for a breath, Edward was smiling again, clearly impressed. This wasn't just about killing a target. It was about choice, patience, and discovery—and he knew instantly that he was experiencing sothing special.
And so Edward continued playing, his excitent refusing to fade even as the minutes passed. He leaned back slightly in his chair, a quiet grin forming on his face. "This… this might be my thing after all," he murmured, eyes still locked onto the screen.
Hitman: The Blood Money was quickly loved by players—even those experiencing it for the very first ti. Praise spread fast, excitent grew, and word of mouth carried the ga further than anyone expected. But, as with all things tied to success, trouble was already quietly beginning to brew. That, however, was a story for another ti.
To be continue
AN : Blood Money is a really good ga but if I really explain the chapters it will take too long. And don't worry there will be problem regarding this as well though hahaha
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