(3rd Person POV)
Arthur surveyed the pristine street with satisfaction, then turned to face Firfel and Vivienne.
Their expressions were frozen masks of disbelief, eyes wide with an almost childlike wonder that might have been endearing under different circumstances.
He could sense their emotional turmoil—waves of awe crashing against walls of confusion, disbelief warring with the undeniable evidence before their eyes.
While he could read their feelings as clearly as words on a page, controlling those emotions remained beyond his reach.
'They've had quite the evening,' he mused darkly. 'My violence, my power, my casual manipulation of reality itself. I wonder how much more they can process before something breaks.'
"Well, now that the street's back to its pristine state, we should leave," Arthur said with practiced nonchalance. "The authorities will arrive soon enough, and I'd rather not deal with their questions tonight."
He had no real concern about the civilian witnesses scattered throughout the nearby buildings. A simple memory adjustment later would ensure their silence—just another minor miracle in his growing repertoire.
Arthur snapped his fingers, and reality folded around them.
In an instant, they materialized in his mansion's elegant foyer. Firfel barely blinked at the teleportation; she'd grown accustomed to this particular ability of his.
The moment their feet touched solid ground, Firfel whirled on him with fierce determination blazing in her eyes.
"What in the seven hells did you just do back there?" she demanded, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Did you actually reverse time itself?"
"It had to be some form of chronological manipulation!" Vivienne's scholarly excitement overrode her earlier fear as she practically bounced on her toes. "That level of space-time magic was supposed to be theoretical! Lost to the ages!"
Arthur felt a wave of relief wash over him. Their fascination with his miraculous abilities seemed to have temporarily overshadowed their horror at his brutal treatment of Viper.
Perhaps there was hope for salvaging this situation after all.
"Do you remember what happened during our filming of Titanic?" Arthur asked, settling into a comfortable chair as if they were discussing the weather. "Specifically, what happened to the Grand Whale?"
Both women froze, their expressions shifting from confusion to dawning realization.
"The ship..." Firfel whispered, her hand rising to cover her mouth.
"It sank to the bottom of the ocean!" Vivienne's eyes grew wide with understanding. "The Fae Sirens dragged it down during that spectacular scene, and the entire city of Franklindale was in uproar. They thought their beloved ship was lost forever!"
Firfel nodded slowly, pieces falling into place. "But then it appeared at Liberty Port the next day, completely intact. We assumed you'd somehow arranged for a duplicate ship, but..."
"But that would have been impossible," Vivienne finished breathlessly. "The Grand Whale was a unique relic from the Empirica era. There was only one."
Arthur's smile held just a hint of smugness. "Exactly. I simply... restored what was lost."
A weak cough interrupted their conversation, drawing their attention to the elegant sofa where Sylwen lay propped against silk cushions, her face pale but alert.
"Sister!" Firfel rushed to her side, relief evident in every line of her body.
"Firfel," Sylwen managed a tired smile, though guilt shadowed her features. "I'm so sorry you were dragged into this mess."
What followed was a careful revelation—Arthur and Sylwen taking turns to explain the web of secrets that had ensnared them all. Sylwen's former organization, her current role within Arthur's clandestine operations, the reasons behind tonight's attack.
With each revelation, Firfel and Vivienne's expressions grew more stunned. A secret organization? Arthur leading a group of operatives?
The gentle filmmaker they thought they knew seemed to dissolve before their eyes, replaced by someone far more complex and dangerous.
But nothing could have prepared them for Arthur's final confession.
He leaned back in his chair, regarding them with an almost casual air, as if he were about to comment on the weather rather than shatter their understanding of reality itself.
"There's one more thing you should know," he said, his tone so matter-of-fact it was almost absurd. "I'm actually a deity. A rather new one, admittedly, but a god nonetheless."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Firfel's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. Vivienne stared at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted a second head.
Even Sylwen, despite her years of service within the Hellsing Organization, looked as though someone had struck her with lightning.
"You're..." Firfel's voice came out as barely a croak. "You're a what?"
"A god," Arthur repeated patiently, as if explaining something obvious to a child. "Divine being, immortal entity, wielder of cosmic forces—the whole package, really."
The revelation hung in the air between them like a live grenade, and Arthur couldn't help but wonder if this time, he'd finally pushed them past their breaking point.
---
Meanwhile, chaos erupted within the Skull Organization's Horn Kingdom operations. Through their telepathic network, urgent communications crackled between operatives as their higher-ranking commander—codename Tarsier—delivered the devastating news.
"Viper's mask has been destroyed," his mental voice carried a tremor of disbelief. "We must assume he has been defeated or... worse."
The revelation sent shockwaves through their ranks. Every Skull operative possessed the ability to detect when a fellow member's mask was shattered, but this power had limitations.
Ordinary operatives could only sense the destruction of masks at their level or below. The annihilation of a high-ranking officer's mask required someone of equivalent or superior status to detect.
Tarsier's word was unquestionable—his position granted him access to information beyond their reach.
In his spartan apartment within Dragon Walled City's crowded tenements, Tarsier stared at the Mask Detection Artifact with growing horror.
The crystalline orb displayed a horrifying replay: Viper's distinctive mask cracking like an eggshell before disintegrating into worthless fragments.
"Impossible," he muttered through gritted teeth, his twin-eyed mask reflecting the orb's ominous glow. "What kind of force could bring down someone of Viper's caliber?"
A smooth, cultured voice answered from behind him. "Oh my, it seems we've found another member of this 'Skull something' organization."
Tarsier's enhanced reflexes kicked in instantly. He launched himself across the room, landing in a defensive crouch near the window. His gaze fixed on the intruder—a tall, devastatingly handsome man whose very presence radiated divine energy like heat from a forge.
'Solarus Faith?' Tarsier's mind raced as he assessed the threat. 'No... this feels different.'
"Allow me to introduce myself," the stranger said with a disarming smile that somehow made him even more terrifying.
"Lance Ashford, at your service. I represent the Hellsing Organization." His expression hardened. "Your people made the grave mistake of targeting our interests, and we've been authorized to... clean house, as it were. Every Skull operative in Horn Kingdom is now marked for elimination."
"Arrogant bastard!" Tarsier snarled, but his bravado couldn't mask the fear creeping into his voice. 'This man's power level is astronomical. I need to escape—now.'
As if reading his thoughts, Tarsier suddenly became aware of multiple presences surrounding the building.
His enhanced vision pierced through walls and floors, revealing armed figures positioned at every possible exit. They'd been completely outmaneuvered.
Desperation drove him to reach for his trump card. 'The Skull of Calamity—if I can just activate its power boost—'
"Planning to use that little trinket?" Lance's voice cut through his thoughts like a blade. "I'm afraid I can't allow that."
Lance moved with terrifying grace, his holy energy manifesting as brilliant chains of light that sought to bind Tarsier in place. But the masked operative wasn't helpless—his oversized eye-lenses weren't merely decorative.
They granted him preternatural perception, allowing him to read Lance's attack patterns and dodge with acrobatic precision.
'I can do this,' Tarsier thought as he successfully evaded another binding spell. 'His attacks are powerful, but predictable. I just need to find an opening to—'
Pain exploded across his back as an unseen attacker struck him from behind. "Guh!" He stumbled forward, his enhanced vision having failed him completely.
'How? I should have seen that coming!'
Turning, he found himself face-to-face with his second assailant, and immediately understood why his perception had failed him.
This man radiated an aura of death so profound that it seemed to bend reality around him. Where Lance embodied divine radiance, this newcomer was a walking void—beautiful and terrible in equal measure.
"Sir Keanu," Lance said, his respectful tone tinged with genuine reverence. "I believed I could handle this situation alone."
Keanu's response was delivered with casual indifference that somehow made it more chilling than any threat. "The sooner we finish this tedious business, the sooner I can return home to my movie collection." His gaze fixed on Tarsier with the detached interest of an entomologist examining a particularly unremarkable insect.
Before Tarsier could even process the words, Keanu moved. There was no dramatic flourish, no telegraphed attack—simply one moment of standing still, then Tarsier found himself crumpled on the floor, his body refusing to respond to his commands.
'Impossible... that speed... what is he?'
"As Arthur instructed," Keanu continued conversationally, as if he hadn't just effortlessly defeated a highly trained operative, "I'll be transporting all captured prisoners to my realm to drain their life essence. Apparently, they make excellent Nether Cores. Arthur's become quite obsessed with the energy output—he calls them 'batteries,' which I find rather amusing."
Even Lance felt a chill at those words, though he tried to hide his discomfort.
With a gesture that seemed almost bored, Keanu opened a rift in reality itself. The tear revealed a nightmarish landscape beyond—endless battlefields littered with mountains of corpses, rivers of blood flowing between forests of abandoned weapons.
The very air within that realm seemed to scream with the anguish of countless fallen warriors.
As Tarsier and his remaining operatives were dragged through the portal, their terrified screams joined the eternal chorus of Keanu's domain.
Viper, already broken from his earlier defeat, could only whimper as tendrils of dark energy began siphoning away his life force.
The God of War's realm had claimed first victims, and Arthur would soon have his precious "batteries" to fuel whatever schemes occupied his mind.
---
Four days later.
Horn Kingdom had returned to normalcy after the Skull Organization's attack on Sylwen, but the fervor surrounding Titanic had only intensified.
Following its limited release in Horn Kingdom and Morningstar Kingdom, the film launched globally to universal acclaim. Audiences across all races—elves, dwarves, and humans alike—found themselves deeply moved by the tragic romance.
The box office numbers were staggering: 239 million global dollars in just four days of international release, adding to the 87 million earned during the initial two-day limited run.
In Franklindale, the Grand Whale had become a cultural phenomenon. Hellfire Entertainment capitalized on the film's success by launching "Titanic Experience" luxury cruises, drawing thousands of passengers eager to relive the movie's grandeur.
Among the crowd stood two figures in mortal disguise: Lady Scarlet, the angel, gazed around the opulent ship in wonder. 'This vessel truly is Titanic... I'm starting to feel like Rose,' she thought dreamily.
Beside her, Lord Kaiser—the High Arbiter of Wealth—watched with barely concealed frustration. He had accompanied her to investigate the theft of his Monetary Faith, not to indulge in romantic fantasies.
"How exactly is this helping with our investigation, Lady Scarlet?" he asked pointedly.
"Be patient," Scarlet replied serenely. "We're here to observe."
Kaiser studied her expression with growing realization. 'She's completely enchanted by the film. She's using the investigation as an excuse to experience Titanic firsthand.'
The truth was painfully obvious—even divine beings weren't immune to Hellfire's cinematic influence.