บท 35: Successful one day
(Amon Oblivion POV)
I've always prided myself on being a filmmaker prodigy.
Last year, my film clinched the Pure Flame Award at the Ferland Film Festival. Several of my creations have already garnered awards, not just locally, but across different kingdoms - human, Dwarven, even Elven.
At just 20, I've got demon actors clamoring to be in my films. Studios are falling over themselves to hire me.
The anticipation surrounding my upcoming project has reached a fever pitch in the Morningstar Kingdom. The Demon Film Industry has pinned its hopes on me, with headlines proclaiming, "Amon Oblivion: The Savior of Our Entertainment Industry."
I'd be lying if I said I didn't revel in the adulation. My friends, family, and even I bought into the hype. After all, six critically acclaimed films speak for themselves.
But lately, there's been this... disturbance.
A new demon film has recently emerged, stirring up unprecedented excitement in the kingdom. Critics are divided - some hail it as a masterpiece, while others dismiss it as overblown and overrated.
Initially, I paid little heed to the buzz. Another hyped film? So what? But then I read something that made my blood boil.
It's downright insulting to read newspapers and magazines praising this upstart director: "He is the future of our industry. Even Amon Oblivion couldn't match him."
The audacity! I couldn't stomach such disrespect.
I might have swallowed my pride if it was a veteran director or another recognized young prodigy. But when I saw who it was, my fists clenched so tight they bled.
The filmmaker was none other than that infamous trash: Arthur Morningstar.
He's not even 18!
Yet these so-called critics dare to compare that garbage to me? To claim I'm nothing compared to him? Unbelievable.
It's utterly preposterous. Yet, despite my indignation, curiosity gnaws at me. I've decided to subject myself to this so-called masterpiece, "The Demonfather." I need to understand how a single film could eclipse my entire body of work in the eyes of these fickle critics.
Today, October 2, "The Demonfather" finally graced the screens of Abbadon City.
My hometown, Monarch Town, has always been a bastion of the arts - films, novels, you name it. Growing up in this entertainment hub only fueled my pride in my work.
I remained convinced that this so-called masterpiece by that upstart prince couldn't hold a candle to my creations.
My friends, family, and I chalked up the hype to its use of color - no doubt the result of that trashy prince pulling strings. But technology alone doesn't make a great film.
As I approached the Monarch Theatre, a familiar voice called out. "Amon. You're here." It was Chilli, a fellow filmmaker and friend.
I nodded in greeting as he continued, "We have a bit of a problem, Amon. Look at that line. Good thing you arrived early, or we'd be waiting for the next screening. Let's get in queue."
I followed his gaze, taken aback by the throng of people. Grudgingly, I fell in line with Chilli.
"People are really curious about a colored film, huh?" I muttered, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
Chilli nodded. "For sure. It's like a human or elven blockbuster just hit the theatre."
I couldn't resist adding, "Hmph. I know for sure that the film won't be much to talk about aside from being in color."
"That's for sure," Chilli agreed. "After all, it was made by that infamous prince."
We waited impatiently to watch this much-hyped color film, and we were finally able to get a seat in the theater.
As the theatre dimmed and the film began, a collective gasp rippled through the audience. The vibrant colors splashed across the screen were indeed impressive.
Chilli leaned towards me, whispering, "Looks like the film industry is about to change once more."
I nodded grudgingly. "One thing I'll give this film credit for is the color. We'll finally be able to film in color soon enough."
We initially thought the color would be the film's only notable feature, but as the story unfolded, we found ourselves drawn in deeper than we'd anticipated. The conversations around us grew more intense, mirroring the depth of the narrative.
The film took us on an emotional journey. Laughter erupted when Don Corleone slapped Johnny. Tension gripped us during Michael and Enzo's hospital vigil. Fury boiled in our veins as Michael faced humiliation, only to be replaced by a dark satisfaction when he exacted his revenge.
To my surprise, I noticed Chilli wiping away tears at Sonny's death. Even I found myself invested in Michael's transformation into the new Don, feeling the weight of the family's fate on his shoulders.
The scene with Moe Greene's disrespect towards Michael had the audience bristling. Then came the old Don's death, followed by Michael's swift and brutal consolidation of power. The final scene, with Kay watching her husband surrounded by his men as the door closed, sent a chill down my spine.
As the credits rolled, the audience rose to their feet, applauding enthusiastically. Even Chilli stood, caught up in the moment. But I remained seated, stunned into silence.
All the work I had taken such pride in... it suddenly felt insignificant.
A new benchmark had emerged, one that I couldn't confidently say any of my films could match. No, even if I combined all my works, they still wouldn't measure up to what I had just witnessed.
Watching the crowd's jubilant reaction, I felt a deep sense of defeat wash over me. Without a word to Chilli, I stood and left the theatre, needing to escape the overwhelming atmosphere.
As I walked through the quiet lobby, the full weight of what I'd just experienced settled on me. The film's quality, storytelling, direction - everything about it screamed 'masterpiece'. I knew, with a sinking feeling in my gut, that "The Demonfather" was destined to make history.
It would be a blockbuster, not just in the demon realm, but worldwide. The realization hit me hard because since childhood, I had nurtured only one dream.
Not to be a powerful demon, not to become a renowned scientist, but to create the first demon film that would achieve worldwide box office success.
That dream, my lifelong aspiration, was about to be fulfilled. But not by me. Instead, it would be accomplished by the very person I had dismissed as a talentless upstart - the infamous prince, Arthur Morningstar.
***
(Rocky POV)
I should be at the ticket booth of my own theatre, the Ferland Grand Theatre, handing out tickets to eager filmgoers. Instead, I've had to delegate that task to someone else. The queue wasn't moving when I was there - too many people recognizing me, asking for autographs.
I thought I'd gotten used to the attention after the Ferland Film Festival, but recently, it's escalated to a whole new level. The autograph requests have multiplied, photographers snap pictures without my consent, and journalists hound me for interviews at every turn.
All because of His Highness Arthur's film. Its success at the Ferland Film Festival was just the beginning - now it's taking the entire kingdom by storm.
Yesterday's box office numbers were staggering - an unprecedented 4 million dollars across 1,602 theatres in the kingdom. And this despite the criticism from numerous newspapers and magazines.
I heave a sigh, still struggling to wrap my head around the film's massive impact. When I accepted the role, I had no inkling it would lead to this. I just wanted to fulfill my childhood dream of being an actor and support Arthur's vision.
Now, as I watch the line snake around the block, I'm torn between pride in the film's success and a sense of being overwhelmed by the attention. The weight of unexpected fame sits heavily on my shoulders.
A group of teenagers spots me through the window, their eyes lighting up with recognition. As they rush towards the entrance, no doubt seeking autographs, I retreat further into the office.
บท 36: Mission Complete
(Mochi POV)
It's been a mere four days since "The Demonfather" shattered records, raking in an astounding 14.3 million dollars. This isn't just a triumph for demon cinema; it's a milestone for the entire world of film.
Never before has any movie, regardless of origin, amassed 14.3 million dollars domestically in just four days. Not even the most celebrated works from humans or elves have achieved such a feat.
Take "The Moon's Lullaby," that acclaimed elven masterpiece. It broke records by earning 8 million dollars in a week in the Moon Kingdom. But "The Demonfather"? It's not just surpassed that benchmark; it's obliterated it.
The film's momentum shows no signs of slowing. Its continuing hype throughout the Morningstar Kingdom borders on miraculous. I can only imagine the global box office figures once it starts screening worldwide.
Yet, amidst this unprecedented success, I find myself overwhelmed with regret.
Why? Because I'm one of those who abandoned Hellfire Studios when news broke of Prince Arthur's exile by his father. I wasn't alone in my hasty decision - many of my colleagues jumped ship too.
Now, watching "The Demonfather" break record after record, become a global phenomenon... the weight of our mistake is crushing. We can only imagine what might have been had we stayed, had we believed in Arthur's vision.
Every headline trumpeting the film's success is a bitter reminder of our short-sightedness. We let fear and uncertainty cloud our judgment, and now we're left on the sidelines, watching others bask in the glory of what could have been our triumph too.
Today, we found ourselves in front of Hellfire Studios, the weight of our past decisions heavy on our shoulders. As we approached, I overheard my friends' nervous chatter.
"You really think they'll take us back after we bailed on them?" Zeke muttered, his tail twitching anxiously.
Nara, always the optimist, chirped, "Hey, you never know until you try, right? What's the worst that could happen?"
"Oh, I don't know," Krix groaned, running a clawed hand down his face. "Maybe they'll laugh us right out of the building? Ugh, I was such an idiot for leaving."
I was about to respond when a familiar face approached us. "Well, well, what brings you lot here?" Lilith, one of the studio staff, eyed us suspiciously.
"Lilith!" I blurted out, surprised. "I, uh... didn't expect to see you here."
Recognition flickered in her eyes. "Mochi? Is that really you? What in the nine hells are you doing here?"
I swallowed hard, gathering my courage. "We were hoping... is Prince Arthur around?"
Lilith's eyes narrowed. "And why, pray tell, would you be looking for His Highness?"
"Look," I said, glancing at my friends for support, "I know we messed up. But we were wondering if there's any chance... any chance at all... that we could come back. Or at least apply again?"
Lilith studied us for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she sighed. "Wait here. I'll see if the boss is willing to hear you out. But don't get your hopes up."
As she disappeared into the building, we exchanged nervous glances.
"Well," Nara whispered, "at least she didn't set us on fire on the spot. That's gotta be a good sign, right?"
We chuckled weakly, the tension momentarily broken. As we waited, I couldn't help but wonder if we were about to get a second chance or if we'd just made the biggest fools of ourselves in demon history.
***
(Arthur POV)
The room buzzed with excitement as we celebrated our unprecedented success. "The Demonfather" had shattered records, and we were riding high on the triumph.
George, my dwarven friend, was in rare form. He'd downed enough alcohol to fell a demon army, yet he was still going strong, his robust dwarven constitution on full display.
I raised my glass, grinning at my crew. "Indulge yourselves, my spawns! Dive into the alcohol and feast like there's no tomorrow!" I paused for dramatic effect. "Because once this party's over, we're diving headfirst into our next big project!"
A chorus of groans and cheers erupted. "You're a slave driver, boss!" someone shouted, but the grin on their face betrayed their excitement.
"Yeah, yeah," another chimed in, "but at least we're slaves to success now!"
Laughter rippled through the room. The mood was electric; we'd proven ourselves with our very first film, and everyone was eager to see what we could achieve next.
As I was about to propose another toast, Lilith, one of our staff, approached me discreetly. "Boss," she whispered, "those employees who jumped ship when you were exiled? They're outside, asking to see you."
I nearly choked on my drink. "Them?" I muttered, memories of their hasty departures flashing through my mind.
"They want to come back," Lilith added, her tone neutral but her eyes questioning.
I couldn't help but chuckle. Of course they did. Now that we'd hit it big, they wanted a piece of the pie. "Let me guess," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, "they've had a sudden change of heart?"
Lilith nodded, awaiting my decision.
I took a moment to consider, then made up my mind. "No need to see them personally. Tell them this," I leaned in, my voice low but firm. "Coming back won't be a cakewalk. If they want to return, they'll have to prove themselves. Our standards have... shall we say, increased dramatically since they left."
A mischievous glint appeared in my eye. "In fact, tell them their first task is to create a short film that captures the essence of loyalty and perseverance in the face of adversity. They have one week, minimal budget, and they can't use any professional actors. Let's see how creative they can get when the odds are stacked against them."
Lilith's eyes widened slightly, but she nodded, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Understood, boss. I'll relay the message."
As she left, I turned back to the celebration, raising my glass once more. "To loyalty, my friends! And to those who stick around when the going gets tough!"
The room erupted in cheers, the energy palpable. We'd climbed to the top together, and I was determined to keep this team - this family - intact as we reached for even greater heights.
We partied hard into the night, eventually collapsing in heaps across the cramped warehouse floor. The sound of collective snoring filled the air as we slept off our excesses.
Come morning, I stirred awake, my head pounding from the night before. As I contemplated the merits of investing in some demonic hangover cure, a sudden chime echoed in my mind, cutting through the fog of my headache:
[Congratulations! Mission "Successful Blockbuster" completed. Reward unlocked: Computer Technologies]
The system's notification instantly cleared the cobwebs from my mind. A grin spread across my face as the implications sank in.
"Oh, this is going to be fun," I muttered, my eyes gleaming with anticipation.
I glanced over at George, still passed out and snoring loudly. My grin widened as I imagined his reaction to this new development.
"Wake up, you drunken dwarf!" I called out, kicking his foot lightly. "We've got some experimenting to do!"
George groaned, burying his head deeper into his makeshift pillow. "Five more minutes, ye demon spawn..."
I chuckled, already formulating plans in my mind. Computer technology in a world of magic? The possibilities were endless.
As I started to rouse the rest of the crew, my hangover all but forgotten, I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. We'd already revolutionized cinema with "The Demonfather". Now, with this new knowledge at my fingertips, who knew what we could achieve next?
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