Re-written date: 7 / 13 / 2025
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Chapter 42: The Power of Film
Across the street from the former Nosrick Grand Theater—now officially renamed the Nosrick Cinema—a new tavern had recently opened its doors. Or rather, calling it a "tavern" wasn't entirely accurate. In truth, it served as the headquarters of Durin Film Production Company.
The second floor held the real office space. The ground floor? That was just a cover—a fully operational bar to keep appearances casual.
The building itself had originally been part of the Baniel family estate. But once Baniel heard that Edward was searching for a suitable location for his production headquarters, he didn't hesitate. He handed the deed over personally, offering the spot as a gift. And it was no ordinary real estate—this was prime land, sitting directly opposite the entrance to Nosrick Cinema.
With how fast ticket sales and audience traffic had exploded in recent days, the entire street's property value was skyrocketing. Securing a location like this—right across from the cinema—would have been next to impossible through normal means. The fact that Baniel offered it without hesitation showed just how much he valued his relationship with Edward.
And Baniel was right to do so. Because of his gesture, Edward decided to formally establish a long-term partnership with Nosrick Cinema. Future expansions of the Durin Film Production Company's business would use it as a base model. This small act had secured Baniel a place at the very center of a growing entertainment empire.
After securing the location, Edward wasted no time. He transformed the first floor into a cozy, bustling tavern designed to welcome filmgoers as they exited the theater. The idea was simple but effective: gather raw, unfiltered audience feedback as quickly as possible. The tavern became a living review board—like a wall of movie comments, but spoken over mugs of ale and plates of warm food.
And the setup worked even better than expected. Thanks to the convenient location, and the occasional appearance of actors like Zat and Aya, the tavern quickly became the most popular hangout spot in all of Nosrick City—far beyond what Edward had anticipated.
But the tavern's real secret weapons?
Were Belldia and Viz.
That's right. The tavern's day-to-day operations were managed by none other than the undead duo themselves.
After years of living in constant danger, on the run from adventurers and bounty hunters, both Belldia and Viz had been hoping for a peaceful life. And even though they were skeptical when Edward first asked them to run a tavern, it turned out… they were surprisingly good at it.
Viz, a former High Mage in life, brought excellent organizational skills to the table. She never made a single mistake with money, kept supplies running smoothly, and—thanks to her gentle demeanor and beauty—quickly became the tavern's unofficial mascot.
Belldia, meanwhile… wasn't exactly approachable. Being a literal headless knight radiating an aura of death tends to do that. But something strange happened.
Instead of being scared off, patrons flocked to him.
Because they knew him.
He wasn't a terrifying undead monster—he was the iconic villain from "Konosuba: Blessings on This Beautiful World!"
Fans of the movie lit up with excitement when they spotted him. Some even tried to take pictures (or sketches) with him, asked for autographs, or reenacted lines from his scenes. In their eyes, Belldia wasn't a fearsome undead general—he was a celebrity.
And with the magic of fandom at play, their perception of him was completely transformed. Thanks to the film's portrayal of Belldia as a misunderstood knight with an old-fashioned code of honor, people found him likable. Relatable, even.
It took Belldia a while to get used to it.
Having never received this kind of admiration in life—or unlife—he was initially overwhelmed by the attention. But over time, he settled into the strange new role of tavern co-owner and beloved movie villain, greeting guests as they came in from the cinema across the street.
With the two of them running the floor, and the star actors frequently visiting, the tavern had practically become an extension of the cinema itself. Patrons would often stop by after a screening, hoping to grab a drink, maybe catch a glimpse of their favorite actors, or—if they were lucky—get served a drink by the Headless Knight.
Unbeknownst to most, they were also standing beneath the nerve center of a growing entertainment industry. Because Durin Film Production Company's true office sat just upstairs.
Of course, secrets like that don't stay secret for long.
With Aya, Zat, and the rest of the cast constantly heading upstairs, and Baniel dropping by for visits, it didn't take long for regulars to piece things together. Everyone knew by now: this tavern was no ordinary watering hole—it was the gateway to the heart of the film industry.
Still, even if the secret was out, no one dared try anything funny.
Not with two top-tier undead guarding the place.
And certainly not with Edward himself—a recognized Grand Mage—calling the shots.
Every so often, a curious outsider would try to sneak upstairs. Maybe a reckless young mage hoping to peek at the inner workings of the studio. But they never made it far. Because every time, one particular Headless Knight would catch the attempt with the deadly instincts of a Sword Saint.
Then—without a word—he'd land a perfectly justified elbow strike to interrupt the casting gesture, hoist the would-be spy over his shoulder, and toss them out the back door… right into the nearby red-light district, where they could cool their ambitions.
No one ever tried a second time.
In time, even the most clueless onlookers figured out there was no room for funny business. Anyone with common sense knew better than to cause trouble around this place. And for the true fans? Just catching a glimpse of their favorite actor in real life was already a reward worth celebrating.
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Upstairs, on the second floor of the tavern now serving as Durin Film Production Company's headquarters, Edward finally let his pen drop after writing the last word of the new script. He exhaled a long breath, stretched his arms, and stood up.
Downstairs, the lively chatter and clinking glasses of the tavern were a constant background hum. But Edward, being a Grand Mage, had no trouble filtering it all out. A mage of his caliber could enter a meditative trance in the middle of a fish market if he had to. This kind of mental control wasn't something that could be trained—it was a reflection of talent, pure and simple.
Loosening up his limbs a little, Edward carefully gathered the pages of the new film's script and secured them inside a folder. Then, he stepped over to the window to gaze at the scene across the street—Nosrick Cinema in all its bustling glory.
It has been just over a week since the premiere of Konosuba. And in that short time, the film—and the medium of cinema itself—had gone from unknown to explosive. The spread of this new entertainment phenomenon was like wildfire, and the revenue followed right behind it, increasing at a speed even Edward hadn't expected.
Because Edward had targeted the common people with this film, its influence was reaching far beyond just the city. Word had spread to nearby villages and towns, where residents had begun making pilgrimages—some traveling dozens or even hundreds of kilometers—just to witness the magic of a "movie." Once they saw it, they became hooked, just like everyone else.
No one left unaffected.
One by one, new viewers joined the ranks of fans, their minds and hearts captured by the story, the visuals, and the characters.
And thanks to this swelling base of support, Konosuba's ticket sales had already broken the 1,000-gold mark—a stunning milestone in such a short time. More importantly, that number wasn't going to slow down anytime soon. If anything, it was only going to climb higher.
Even within Nosrick City, a significant chunk of the population still hadn't seen the film. But word-of-mouth was working its magic. The growing buzz around the movie was going to sweep them up eventually—it was only a matter of time. The whole city was turning into an audience-in-waiting.
And it didn't stop there.
Both the Adventurers' Guild and the cinema itself had begun planning promotional campaigns. Their goal is to expand their reach from Nosrick to the entire southern territory. If they succeeded, then instead of tens of thousands of viewers, they'd be looking at millions.
And the money involved?
Wouldn't be counted in thousands anymore.
The Southern Territory Adventurer's Guild had been especially proactive. They were already reaching out to every major theater in the region, asking if they were interested in showing the movie. If the answer was yes, perfect—they'd all make money together.
But if the answer was no?
They were prepared.
That's where Edward's outdoor screenings came into play.
If local theaters refused to cooperate, the Guild would simply organize public showings in open spaces—parks, fields, city squares. They'd bring the magic of cinema directly to the people, skipping over the traditional venues entirely.
Of course, this approach wasn't without consequences. Such public screenings would be a direct challenge to the existing arts industry. Stage plays and operas, which had been the backbone of cultural life for decades—centuries, even—were already feeling the pressure. And once movies became widely accessible, their audiences would shrink even faster.
It was easy to imagine the kind of resistance this would provoke. For now, the Guild hoped to avoid open conflict, but if push came to shove?
They were ready.
Because at the end of the day, it was all about profit.
If someone got in the way of that? Then they'd be cast aside, no matter how prestigious their name or how deep their history.
It sounded cold—but that was the reality.
In this kind of invisible war, where no swords were drawn but the stakes were just as deadly, mercy toward your competitors was nothing but cruelty to yourself. No one was going to give up ground willingly.