Parallel World Light Novelist

Chapter 181: Chapter 180: If It Doesn’t Break Records, It’s a Failure?! Who Decided That

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The main series of Puella Magi Madoka Magica, consisting of twelve episodes, was compiled into five Blu-ray volumes and released over the span of a single month. Setting aside the recently launched fifth volume, the combined sales of the first four volumes had already climbed steadily, reaching a cumulative total of 3.01 million copies.

A quick calculation revealed that the average per-volume sales for those first four discs had already surpassed 750,000 units. On the August rankings for home video sales in the animation market, Madoka Magica was in a league of its own. It had absolutely crushed the second-place title, Mechanical City, leading by a massive margin of nearly two million copies.

The three major productions of the summer season, Mechanical City, Dragon’s Secret Treasure, and Throbbing Heart, not only saw their television ratings suppressed by Madoka, but their home video release schedules were nearly identical. After all, a studio has to strike while the iron is hot and the hype is at its peak. While these companies knew that colliding with Madoka would negatively impact their sales, they had no choice but to push forward.

It was now undeniable. Puella Magi Madoka Magica had become the most significant cultural phenomenon the animation industry had seen in years.

The upcoming release of its movie had been the focus of intense scrutiny for over a month. The Big Three animation studios were particularly restless.

In this cutthroat industry, competitors are natural enemies. While it was only logical for a successful startup like Haru-Yuki Animation to profit from their hit, the Big Three couldn’t stand that this rise was happening at the expense of their own projects.

Over the last month, a flood of negative comments had appeared online, claiming the movie would be a disaster and a cash grab. Roughly seventy percent of these concerned opinions were actually generated by paid internet trolls hired by the major studios.

They couldn’t allow Madoka to maintain its momentum. Even if they had to resort to baseless slander, they were determined to tank the show’s reputation. If they didn’t, the long-term licensing revenue, merchandise sales, and brand value of their own shows would continue to be smothered by the shadow of the magical girls.

Without needing a formal meeting, the major studios had formed an alliance of sabotage.

[A news snippet claiming that renowned critic Kaido believes the production cycle for ”The Rebellion Story” was too short for a quality product.]

[A report suggesting that fans have found blurry picture quality in their limited-edition sets, sparking rumors of corner-cutting by Haru-Yuki Animation.]

[A sensationalist headline questioning if the Warrior of Love is actually a blacklisted industry figure from years ago.]

[An article accusing the show of plagiarizing character designs from a twenty-year-old classic anime.]

As the release date for the movie approached, the market was flooded with a mix of misinformation and hit pieces.

Any fan with a modicum of intelligence could see that these rumors were deliberate attacks. However, knowing they were fake didn’t make them any less annoying to read.

Given how exceptional the television finale had been, even loyal fans were feeling a sense of trepidation.

They were caught between excitement and the nagging fear that a sequel might actually ruin the perfect legacy of the original work. Success breeds contempt, and the massive popularity of Madoka had made it a prime target. Because it had risen by toppling the adaptations of famous manga and games, the Big Three fanbases had joined the fray, turning the internet into a toxic battlefield of arguments and insults. Many people were actively rooting for the theatrical sequel to be a colossal failure.

On the AniSphere anime forums, the combat was reaching a fever pitch.

”Look, it’s not going to be a total flop,” one fan argued. ”Based on the current hype, hundreds of thousands of people bought the TV episodes. The average sales for those discs are going to hit a million easily. Even a mediocre movie will sell well because of the brand name.”

”How can you even compare the movie to the first five volumes?” a hater retorted. ”This is a movie with new content. Standard industry metrics show that a movie should sell at least double the TV volumes. If it only breaks a million, it’s a failure for a so-called masterpiece.”

”Is that how math works now? You just make up ratios?”

”Why not? Every other major hit manages a 2:1 ratio between movie and TV sales. If Madoka can’t do that, then it’s clearly not the masterpiece everyone says it is.”

”I can’t wait to see the Madoka fans try to explain away a mediocre performance. You guys act like this show is the best thing in history. If it can’t move two million copies, you should stop bragging about it online forever.”

The logic used by the trolls was to apply standard industry statistics to an outlier.

Under normal circumstances, a movie does indeed sell significantly better than television episodes that were previously available for free.

The problem, however, was the scale.

The Madoka television volumes were projected to average a million copies per volume within the next month or two.

By the haters’ logic, the movie’s home video release would need to move at least two million copies to avoid being labeled a disaster.

Even the most die-hard fans found that number intimidating.

In the last five years, the highest average sale for a television anime was 690,000 copies, while the record for a movie stood at 1.82 million. While these weren’t the highest numbers in history, they were the benchmarks for the modern market.

For Madoka, the comparison between its TV and movie sales wasn’t a simple matter of multiplication. One had to consider whether the market even possessed the sheer volume of consumers with the purchasing power and willingness to move two million units of a single title.

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At the Haru-Yuki Animation offices, Haruto looked away from the toxic forum threads.

To be honest, he could no longer accurately predict the trajectory of the series. He knew that the potential of the market often exceeded the imagination of the average observer.

Haruto closed his laptop.

It was time for his interviews. He wasn’t the one being interviewed; rather, he was acting as the Chairman of Haru-Yuki Animation and the legendary scriptwriter Warrior of Love to vet potential new hires.

Waiting outside the conference room was a group of prestigious industry veterans who had been invited to interview.

The polite way to describe them was that they were elite creators whose careers had plateaued due to personal circumstances. The blunt way to describe them was that they were talented rebels who had offended the wrong executives at major studios and had been marginalized or blacklisted in recent years.

Haruto knew that Haru-Yuki was still too small and lacked the prestige to poach top-tier talent currently in high demand at major studios. To strengthen his production team, he had to target these brilliant, disgruntled veterans who were looking for a chance to prove themselves again.

Before arriving, these candidates had already discussed the preliminary terms with Haruto’s staff. Their primary reason for coming today was to meet the man behind the company, the mysterious Warrior of Love, whose fame had eclipsed the entire industry in mere months, yet whose face remained a secret. No professional would join a studio without knowing who their direct superior was.

The atmosphere in the hallway was tense. Who is the Warrior of Love really? they wondered.

Finally, when they saw the young man sitting at the head of the table, many of them froze in place.

”Shiori-sensei...?”

”Shiori Takahashi-sensei?”

Many people in the animation world were avid readers. Given that several studios had expressed interest in adapting Parasyte, many in the room recognized the face of the genius light novelist. Others recognized him as the writer of the hit manga Initial D.

”Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming to visit my company today,” Haruto said, offering a polite smile.

”Your company?”

A look of pure bewilderment crossed several faces. But immediately, two of the candidates realized the implication, their expressions turning from shock to utter disbelief.