(3rd Person POV)
Arthur stood by the window, fingers stroking his chin, deep in thought.
"I didn't expect something like that to exist…" he muttered. "A creature—almost like a dinosaur... and in the Draconic Realm, no less."
His gaze flickered as he scanned through his clone's fading memories. Though arrogant and reckless, the clone's final moments revealed the truth: the beast had crushed him like pulp.
"That kind of raw power…" Arthur whispered, eyes narrowing. "Even the dragons feared it. Its strength outclassed them, no doubt."
He crossed his arms, thinking aloud. "Primitive. Wild. No sign of speech or intelligence. But the dragons scattered at its presence…"
A glint of curiosity flashed in his eyes.
"I wonder what that species is even called…"
But then, something clicked in his mind.
"Wait a second." His voice sharpened. "If something like that exists here… doesn't that mean—"
He stood up abruptly.
"Could I make that film?" he muttered, pacing slightly. "It's possible, right?"
The idea lit a spark in him.
But almost immediately, doubt crept in.
"…No, it won't work. That thing's untamable. No intelligence. I'd never get it to act." He frowned. "Unlike dragons, it doesn't talk. No negotiation, no subtlety."
Still, he couldn't shake the idea. He smiled to himself and sighed.
"Something to consider later. For now…" He looked out over Horn City. "Yoda's been waiting for an answer."
He raised his wrist, activating his bracelet, and summoned the Jedi Master into the room.
A flicker of light—and then Yoda appeared, standing with his hands folded, as calm as ever.
"You wished to see me?" Yoda asked.
Arthur smiled faintly. "You asked me yesterday if you could return home. Well... I've found a way."
Yoda's ears twitched. "Truly? Speak, you must."
"It's called the Return Gate Technique," Arthur explained. "It'll take you back—to where you belong."
Yoda paused, his eyes softening. "A kindness, this is. Grateful, I am. The will of the Force... it moves still."
Arthur didn't say much more. He had no intention of revealing that he could summon Yoda back anytime.
To Yoda, this was goodbye.
Arthur raised his hand. The space beside them began to glow, swirling with power. A gate of pale light shimmered into being—steady and silent.
Yoda stepped closer, then stopped, turning slightly toward Arthur. "Cross this gate, I shall. But return… I may not."
Arthur gave a quiet nod. "I understand."
The Jedi Master stood at the edge, his silhouette cast in the light of the portal. "A story, you've told. A fiction, you called it. Yet real, it felt. Echoes of warning… seen through your lens."
Arthur didn't reply.
Yoda gave one last look, his expression unreadable. "Changed, this world has. Hope, it holds."
Then he stepped forward—into the light.
The gate shimmered, pulsed, then collapsed into nothingness.
Arthur remained silent for a while, his eyes fixed on the empty space where Yoda once stood.
"…May the Force be with you," he whispered, almost like a prayer.
---
Yoda stepped through the swirling portal—and in the blink of an eye, he was back.
His boots touched familiar stone. The scent in the air, the quiet hum of distant meditation halls, the weight of the world he had left behind—it all returned at once.
He blinked slowly, taking it in.
'This… this is where I stood before I was summoned,' he thought.
Behind him, the blue light of the portal flickered once, twice—then faded into nothing. The last shimmer of it danced across his wrinkled face.
He smiled faintly.
"Arthur…" he murmured, voice soft.
His expression was thoughtful—grateful, but burdened.
"May the Force be with you."
Then he turned away and walked forward.
---
When Yoda rejoined the Jedi he had been training, none reacted with confusion. No one questioned where he had been. In fact, it felt… as if he hadn't been gone at all.
No time lost.
'Time flows differently,' he realized. 'Arthur's world, separated from ours it is. A place between stories and stars.'
From that day on, Yoda resumed his life as before—but with renewed caution. A heightened sense of foresight guided his every step.
'Anakin Skywalker…' he thought, eyes narrowing as he meditated. 'Not yet known he is. But watched, he must be.'
---
Meanwhile, in Horn City...
Arthur was buried in work.
The Titanic project consumed his full attention. He turned down every interview, ignored every invitation, and brushed off the wave of celebrity now crashing at his doorstep in the wake of Star Wars' success.
He had no time for praise.
Let the world talk.
And talk, they did.
In taverns and temples, parks and schools, cafés and magic academies—the name Star Wars was on everyone's lips.
Inside a busy café, a teenage demon excitedly waved a newspaper. "My teacher from elemental class said the Force might be real! She's trying to meditate to sense it!"
His friend laughed. "You guys are losing it. Just because the Jedi can do it in a movie doesn't mean we can."
"I want to be Luke Skywalker," another muttered dreamily.
"They're saying the Force lives in everyone," someone else said. "That if we train hard enough, we might awaken it."
Across the kingdom, debates flared.
Theories were born.
And slowly, quietly, belief took root.
Newspapers ran headlines every day.
"Star Wars Smashes Records!"
"A World Beyond Our Own?"
Within a week, Star Wars had earned an astonishing 293 million global dollars—and that was just the beginning.
Even kingdoms that clung to local currencies couldn't stop the film's spread.
The media was ablaze with headlines, echoing across kingdoms and cities:
"Hellfire is unstoppable! From Demonfather to Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and now the birth of a new legend—Star Wars! When will this reign end? Or is Hellfire destined to remain the King of Entertainment Cinema?"
"With Star Wars shattering expectations, Hellfire Studio officially cements its crown as 'The King of the Entertainment Cinema.'"
"Bryan Brothers. Titan Pictures. Moon Entertainment. Once giants. Now dwarfed beneath the throne held by one name: Hellfire."
Beneath the surface, the press wasn't just praising—they were provoking. These headlines were designed to ignite flames in the boardrooms of rival studios. And they succeeded.
---
In the Muscovy, at Titan Pictures HQ...
The air was thick with tension. Inside a lavish, yet chaotic office, Alexander Leonidovich Volkov, the iron-willed chairman of Titan Pictures, stood at the head of a long table, his hair slightly disheveled and eyes dark with exhaustion.
A film director, sweating bullets, tried to explain.
"Sir, our box office numbers are declining by the day. If this keeps up… we'll be bleeding money. The investors are getting anxious—"
BANG!
Alexander slammed his fist on the desk.
"I told you—only challenge Hellfire if you're sure you can win!" he barked. "But you couldn't. You failed."
He jabbed a finger toward the man.
"You're fired."
The director stood frozen for a beat, but said nothing. He lowered his head and quietly exited the room.
Alexander's longtime advisor, Ed Louis, raised an eyebrow. "That's the eighth director you've fired this year."
"I don't need directors who flinch at shadows," Alexander growled. "I need warriors. Heroes. Someone who can stand against that demon king."
"Demon king?" Ed smirked. "You mean Arthur Pendragon?"
Alexander's jaw tightened. "Yes. Arthur." He clenched his fist. "We need someone who can knock him off his throne."
Ed simply exhaled, half amused, half resigned.
'You've been chasing that rivalry for years now,' he thought. 'Bleeding funds, exhausting teams… and still, you refuse to let it go.'
And yet, somewhere in his chest, he couldn't help but admire Alexander's obsession.
Meanwhile...
Arthur, the so-called "demon king" of cinema, was unfazed by the noise.
He was already preparing for his next endeavor: the Titanic project.
Horn City, as dear as it was to him, didn't fit the scale he envisioned for the film. The sets, the infrastructure, the waters—they weren't enough.
So, Arthur made a decision.
He would travel to the U.S.E.
This time, he'd film in foreign lands—bringing Titanic to life on a global stage.
He chose the U.S.E not just for its scale or backdrop—but because docked there was a massive ship, one he had specifically set his eyes on to bring Titanic to life.
---
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