(3rd Person POV)
Dragon Ball's overwhelming success in both manga and anime had unlocked new possibilities, including Arthur's access to internet technologies from the DB.
The private dining room at the top of Hellscape Center provided perfect cover for Arthur's meeting with the newly elected Prime Minister. Rich mahogany panels lined the walls, while enchanted crystals cast warm light across the pristine tablecloth. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Horn Kingdom's capital sparkled below.
Valerie tried to follow Arthur's explanation about interconnected communication technology, her brow furrowing slightly. "A technology to connect people... It's certainly ambitious," she nodded, clearly lost but maintaining her composure. "While I don't fully grasp the specifics, the Economic Prosperity Alliance will support any initiative that could boost our kingdom's economy."
Arthur smiled at her confusion. "Trust me, this will revolutionize how our kingdom communicates. The dwarven nations will be green with envy."
Valerie laughed, clearly thinking he was exaggerating. After all, the dwarves' underground capitals housed technological marvels that even the mightiest human nations couldn't match. "I look forward to being proven wrong," she said diplomatically. "Once the power transition is complete, you'll have our party's full support."
Arthur reached to shake her hand, but Valerie's expression suddenly turned grave.
"Before you go, Mr. Pendragon, I have a request." Her fingers tightened around her wine glass.
Arthur's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"
Valerie leaned forward, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "I've been receiving death threats."
Though surprised, Arthur maintained his composure. "When did they start?"
"Right after the election results."
Arthur nodded, his mind already turning to the Hellsing organization he'd established for precisely such situations. "Don't worry," he assured her, his voice carrying quiet confidence. "I'll ensure your safety."
***
(Sylwen POV)
After months in Arthur's Hellsing Organization, I'd begun to wonder if I was its only member. Strange, for what was supposed to be an elite group.
The afternoon sun streamed through tall windows in Arthur's study, dust motes dancing in the golden beams. Ancient tomes lined mahogany shelves while magical artifacts gleamed in glass cases. Arthur sat behind his massive desk, looking up from his papers as I entered.
"You're here," he greeted with a nod.
"I heard there's an important mission?"
"Urgent." He tapped a paper showing Valerie's photo among other candidates. "These politicians I backed just won the election. Now they're receiving death threats. I need you to protect her." He slid an address across the polished desk. "Guard her from this location. Discretely."
I nodded, but remained standing. Arthur tilted his head. "Something else?"
"Well..." I shifted slightly. "I've been wondering for months now... Where are the other members? My seniors? Why haven't I seen anyone else from the organization?"
A smile played across Arthur's lips. "Actually, you'll meet three of our most powerful senior members at that address."
My heart jumped. "Really?"
"I have no reason to lie to you," he replied, still smiling.
I hurried from his office, anticipation building as I followed the address to an apartment complex where Valerie's party members lived.
On a nearby rooftop, three figures waited, each wearing plain white masks that somehow seemed more unnerving than elaborate ones would have been.
Landing on the roof, I instinctively reached out with my magical senses - and stumbled backward. The sheer power radiating from them hit me like a physical force.
"Now, now, young lady," one chuckled, his deep voice resonating with authority. "Probing your seniors upon first meeting? Rather impolite, wouldn't you say?"
The other two joined in his laughter.
"My deepest apologies, seniors!" I bowed quickly, feeling like a scolded apprentice.
The masked figures' laughter subsided as the middle one spoke with authority. "Let's focus on our task. The elected officials must be protected at all costs. This mission cannot fail."
"Relax, old man," the second figure rolled his shoulders. "Anyone trying to get near our targets will have to go through me first."
"Watch that pride, Number 2," the third figure warned sharply. "Failure here compromises everything our organization stands for!"
Their serious tone infected me with fresh determination. Whatever was at stake clearly went beyond simple protection duty.
***
(3rd Person POV)
What Sylwen couldn't know was that her "senior members" were actually Arthur's clones, each containing an astronomical three million units of magical mana - far surpassing Arthur's own reserves of two hundred thousand.
Creating such powerful clones required a massive reservoir of power. Using the Devourer Ring's absorption abilities combined with the {Bracelet of Lifeblood Veins'} transportation power, Arthur had embarked on a world-spanning hunt for magical energy.
His search led him to the Glacia Expanse, where the Devourer Ring gorged itself on the thick magical mana saturating the frozen wasteland. Behind its massive ice walls stood the mysterious "Anus Gate," a portal to the Netherworld itself.
But Arthur knew better than to test those waters yet. The gate's mysteries would have to wait until he grew stronger. With the bracelet's three-travel limit and the complicated nature of its transportation - requiring a three-second passage through the ethereal Lifeblood Veins to reach destinations - he couldn't risk encountering Netherworld entities that could kill him in that brief vulnerable window.
Even those three seconds felt like an eternity when dealing with unknown threats. Arthur had survived too much to gamble his life on unexplored realms.
***
(3rd Person POV)
Angel Theatre's velvet seats and gilded walls sparkled under crystal chandeliers as John Joseph Nicholson fidgeted in his front-row seat, just behind the film's stars. The theatre's grandeur only emphasized how out of place he felt.
His heart raced with anticipation. Finally, after years of struggle, he'd landed a role alongside superstar Lewis Light. Even if it was just a few seconds, it was his chance.
But as the film rolled on, scene after scene passed without his appearance. When the credits rolled, his name wasn't even listed.
Fury and humiliation churning inside him, he confronted the director outside. The man barely looked at him as he delivered the crushing news: "Sorry, your scene just didn't make it to the final cut."
The walk home felt endless. John's feet dragged across cracked sidewalks until he reached his cramped apartment. The single room barely fit his thin mattress laid directly on the stained floorboards.
His walls told the story of his dreams - carefully preserved posters of "Harry Potter," "Lord of the Rings," and "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly" covered the peeling wallpaper. At their center hung a grainy newspaper photo of Arthur Pendragon, carefully cut out and preserved despite its yellowing edges.
John collapsed onto his mattress, eyes fixed on Arthur's image. Two years ago, Arthur had been nothing - a disgraced prince, a family outcast. Now his face graced magazine covers.
Reaching for his dog-eared copy of Forbes with Arthur on the cover, John traced the story he'd memorized about belief and perseverance. The parallels drew him in - he too was an outsider, fighting for his chance.
But tonight, after years of failed auditions and now this cut scene, hope felt distant. His prayers to the Sun God, Moon God, even the Forgefather echoed unanswered.
His reflection in the cracked mirror reminded him why - his "below average" looks that made directors look away, his ordinary features that couldn't compete with classical beauty.
The entertainment industry had no place for someone who looked like him, no matter how much he dreamed.
John's eyes welled up as he stared at Arthur's grainy photo, a desperate thought crossing his mind. He immediately tried dismissing it - praying to Arthur? Ridiculous.
John shook his head at the absurd thought of praying to Arthur. The springs creaked beneath him as he settled onto the worn mattress, its familiar musty scent filling his nostrils. Despite the summer heat seeping through his cracked window, exhaustion quickly pulled him under.
The next morning, harsh sunlight stabbed through his eyelids as a cacophony of city sounds filtered in - distant car horns, pigeons cooing on his windowsill, and the rhythmic thump-thump of his upstairs neighbor's morning routine.
Then came the dreaded sound:
Bang! Bang!
"When are you paying your rent, John? It's been weeks!" his landlord's voice boomed through the thin door.
"Please, just more time," John called back, his voice cracking. "I'll pay soon."
"You better! Last warning, John!" Heavy footsteps retreated down the hallway.
Looking back at Arthur's photo, John felt his last shred of dignity crumble. 'If the gods won't listen, maybe... maybe he will.' Dropping to his knees, John hesitated, then began.
"Oh, Arthur Pendragon..." he stopped, searching for the right words. "Lord of Entertainment! If you can hear me... please, I'm begging you. Let me be part of your films. I don't need to be a star, I don't need fame - I just want to act. I'll take any role, no matter how small. I just... I just want a chance to prove myself. Please... please hear me..."
***
In Horn Kingdom, Arthur sprawled across his massive four-poster bed, silk sheets tangled around him. Moonlight filtered through enchanted curtains, casting soft shadows across his peaceful face as he dreamed of ruling from a mighty throne.
Then an unfamiliar voice pierced his dreams, desperate and raw, begging for a chance.
"Shut up..." Arthur mumbled, trying to cling to sleep. But the voice grew clearer, more insistent.
He jolted awake, scanning his moonlit chamber. "Who's there?"
His magic and ki probed the room, finding nothing, yet the voice continued echoing in his mind.
"What the hell?" he muttered, growing confused.
Then a system notification chimed: [You gained 10+ divine points!]
(Arthur POV)
Moonlight streamed through my bedroom's enchanted windows, casting an ethereal glow on the floating system notification: [You've gained 10+ Divine Points]. The message hung transparent in the air as the desperate voice in my head finally started making sense.
A man begging for a role in my productions. Actually praying to me for it.
"Who in their right mind prays to me for acting roles?" I muttered, chuckling at the absurdity. The moment those words left my lips, my opulent bedroom blurred and shifted.
The scene transformed to a tiny, cramped apartment. Peeling wallpaper, a mattress on bare floorboards, and a man kneeling before a wall covered in my photos and movie posters. The grainy newspaper cutout of my face served as his makeshift shrine.
"So this is my crazy devotee," I mused, studying him closer. Nothing remarkable about his appearance, but the raw desperation in his prayer touched something in me.
I sighed, glancing at the divine points his faith had granted me. The system's interface showed a new entry under followers: John Joseph Nicholson.
I nearly choked on air. Looking back at the praying man, then at the name again, pieces clicked into place. "Could he be this world's version of that legendary actor?"
The possibility energized me. I explored the Divine Functions panel, discovering I could send financial aid and bestow blessings on followers.
Without hesitation, I transferred 5,000 dollars - enough to change his immediate circumstances. Then, focusing on his innate talent, I cast a blessing to enhance his already existing acting abilities.
If this man truly paralleled the legendary actor from my previous life, this investment might yield incredible returns.
From my ethereal vantage point, I watched John slump in defeat, clearly unable to perceive my presence. The system had merely projected my consciousness here to witness my first follower's prayers.
"Sigh, it seems that it didn't work," John muttered dejectedly.
I observed silently, anticipating his reaction to my response. The 1 DP I'd spent (0.8 for blessing, 0.2 for money) seemed minimal compared to the 10 DP his single prayer had granted me, though divine points were surprisingly precious.
Suddenly, crisp hundred-dollar bills cascaded through his open window like green leaves in an autumn breeze. John remained oblivious until a particularly thick stack smacked him square on the head.
"What?" He winced, rubbing his scalp before freezing at the sight of money carpeting his floor. His jaw dropped, eyes growing impossibly wide as he scrambled to grab the bills.
"This... This is five thousand dollars!!!" he whispered frantically, as if afraid speaking too loudly might make it vanish.
I couldn't help but smile at his bewilderment.
***
(3rd Person POV)
John's trembling fingers clutched the money as his eyes darted to Arthur's grainy photo. "Did it... Did it actually worked???"
He shook his head violently. "It can't be. He isn't even a god..." Despite his own desperate prayer minutes ago, the idea seemed absurd.
Then a peculiar sensation washed over him, like warm sunshine flooding his veins. Before he could process it, a familiar voice resonated in his mind: "As my first devotee, I bless your acting skills and given you five thousand dollars."
John collapsed backwards, his legs giving out. That voice - unmistakably Arthur Pendragon's! Though logic screamed it was impossible, the money in his hands and the lingering warmth in his body suggested otherwise.
Goosebumps prickled his skin as he fought the urge to tell someone, anyone, about what had happened. But who would believe him? They'd think he'd lost his mind.
***
Arthur's consciousness floated back to his bedroom, the familiar warmth of enchanted crystals washing over him. Moonlight filtered through gossamer curtains, casting shadows across his silk sheets, so different from the cramped apartment he'd just witnessed.
After helping John, Arthur turned his attention to the {Divine Functions} panel in his system interface, curiosity burning. Something about this development felt surreal - divine powers were supposed to be the domain of gods and celestial beings, yet here he was, accessing divine features through the system.
The DP counter and Divine Shop had always been there, but now new functions appeared, previously hidden from his view. All because of one devoted follower. The blessing he'd just bestowed on John was only the beginning of these newfound abilities.
Diving deeper into the panel, Arthur's eyes widened at each discovery. Beyond follower blessings, he could channel DP into strengthening his own magical and physical abilities. More intriguingly, he could unlock higher tiers of his Morningstar bloodline, advancing his demonic heritage beyond its current limits.
The "Skill Creation" function particularly caught his attention. The ability to combine fictional techniques like merging a "Kamehameha" with a "Rasengan" seemed almost too good to be true. Though the 1000 DP minimum requirement put such experiments out of reach for now.
At the same time, he could use DP to perform advanced and miraculous healing. With dozens or hundreds of DP, he could cure incurable curses or mend afflictions so severe that even the healing magic of Roses Magic could not provide relief.
Most surprisingly, he found a {Resurrection} function. Its DP cost varied based on the target - bringing back a young, ordinary person would cost far less than resurrecting an ancient powerhouse.
Among the divine functions, one feature particularly intrigued Arthur - the ability to create his own "Domain," a private space where he could directly communicate with his followers. This would be his most secure sanctuary, completely hidden from the world's prying eyes.
[Your first follower, John Joseph Nicholson, has placed his faith in you. His devotion will generate one Divine Point daily. Though his faith remains in its infancy, as his belief deepens, your daily Divine Points will increase!]
Arthur's lips curved into a smile at the notification. Another message followed: [Congratulations on gaining your first follower! As a reward, you may now create your initial domain without Divine Point cost!]
His excitement dimmed slightly upon realizing "free" had its limitations. The domain space barely matched his bedroom's dimensions - spacious for a room, but tiny for a divine realm.
Suddenly, Arthur found himself transported into a blank canvas of white nothingness. The space rippled like disturbed water, waiting to be shaped. The system informed him that he need only imagine to create.
Drawing on his vision, Arthur began crafting his sanctuary. The white void transformed into his Hellfire Studio office, but idealized.
Movie posters materialized on the walls - "Harry Potter," "Lord of the Rings," "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly" arranged artistically beside vibrant anime and cartoon promotional art.
Dark wooden shelves sprouted from the walls, filled with leather-bound books and industry magazines. His mahogany desk appeared, complete with the ornate torch sconce casting warm light nearby.
In one corner, his Golden Laurel, Lunar Laurel, Celestial Crown, etc, awards gleamed on their special shelf, testament to his achievements.
Arthur nodded approvingly at his creation. The office would serve nicely - he could always tell future followers this was merely one room in a vast domain, concealing that nothing existed beyond these walls.
For now, this space would suffice. As his DP grew, he could expand, perhaps crafting an elaborate castle or seaside villa. The domain's grandeur would grow with his power and following.
Settling into his plush office chair, Arthur noticed the desk mirror's surface rippling like disturbed water. An image formed - John counting out money to a gruff-looking man, clearly his landlord. But more interesting than the scene was John's thoughts, flowing into Arthur's mind:
'Lord Arthur answered so quickly... He truly is a light for the hopeless like me. People need to know about him... I don't care if they think I'm crazy for praying to a demon...'
Arthur nodded, pleased with his follower's devotion. More believers meant more Divine Points, after all.
Then a chilling thought froze his satisfaction.
If word spread about him answering prayers, if a cult formed around him... The actual gods and their powerful followers wouldn't ignore such blasphemy. They'd hunt him down while he was still too weak to defend himself.
His expression darkened as he realized his first taste of divine power might have already sown seeds of danger.
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