(3rd Person POV)
The smile on Arthur's face seemed to ignite something in the nobles. Fingers pointed toward him from every direction.
"You think this is amusing?" Friedrich's voice shook with indignation.
"Don't think one successful film makes you untouchable!"
"We could destroy you with a word to the right people!"
Arthur's smile widened at the threats. The nobles' faces reddened further, while the Wizard Knights shifted uncomfortably—clearly wishing they were anywhere else.
"I suppose I am a bit entertained by all this," Arthur admitted, his tone light.
"You—" Several nobles spoke at once, then fell silent. They hadn't expected such brazen confidence.
Arthur leaned back in his chair, examining his fingernails with casual disinterest. "Look, I'm tired of these games." His eyes flicked up to meet theirs. "So let me ask directly—did you genuinely not know Delly sold these theatres to me? Or are you all working with him to create problems for me?"
Friedrich and the other nobles exchanged quick glances.
"How dare you!" Friedrich stepped forward, his hand already moving in a casting gesture. "You accuse us of such underhanded—that's it. You're going to pay—"
Mana gathered around him as he chanted, the air rippling with power. A mid-tier spell—nothing to take lightly.
The Wizard Knights moved immediately. "Lord Friedrich! You can't do this here!"
"Stop! This is too dangerous!"
The other nobles backed away, fear flickering across their faces as wind whipped through the office. A sphere of fire materialized in Friedrich's palm, fed by the swirling air currents. The temperature spiked, heat washing over everyone in the room.
Arthur watched with half-lidded eyes. He stifled a yawn and started to raise his hand—
Naruto appeared in front of Friedrich before Arthur could move.
The Rasengan formed in Naruto's palm—deliberately restrained, its rotation controlled. It struck Friedrich's chest with just enough force to disrupt his casting and knock him backward.
"What—" Friedrich's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't even seen the movement.
He stumbled back several steps and dropped to one knee, gasping. The interrupted spell backlashed through his system—mana circulation thrown into chaos, vision swimming. Burns spread across his palms and forearms where his own incomplete fire magic had scorched him, the uncontrolled energy turning inward.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as his body struggled to process the sudden mana disruption.
The nobles who'd come with him froze in terror.
The Wizard Knights rushed to Friedrich's side, already pulling healing potions from their belts. The potions eased the burns and stopped the bleeding, but they couldn't immediately fix the deeper damage—his mana pathways would need time and proper treatment to stabilize.
"What audacity! You dare strike a noble!?" Ellen, the young noblewoman, pointed at Naruto with trembling fury.
Arthur stood and approached the group with measured steps. "Forgive my associate, Lady Ellen. But we were not the ones who attacked first. Your companion initiated violence. We merely responded—with restraint, I might add. He's alive and will recover fully."
"But still—" Ellen started to retort, but the words died in her throat when Arthur's gaze settled on her. Those cold eyes held something that made her blood run cold. 'What is he? He's not afraid of nobility at all...'
Arthur ignored her and stepped closer to Friedrich, who knelt on the floor, still trying to catch his breath. "You actually intended to harm me. Are you working with Delly?"
Friedrich looked exhausted, his face pale and drawn. "I—I don't know what you're talking about..."
Arthur studied him carefully. The man was lying—badly. This was definitely Delly's doing.
"No matter." Arthur turned to face the other nobles. "I'm aware of the contracts. And since you've refused monetary compensation—I have a different proposition for you. Are you willing to listen?"
The nobles exchanged uncertain glances. With Friedrich kneeling as an example of what happened to those who attacked Arthur, none of them seemed eager to escalate further.
"Let's hear it," Ellen said carefully. The older nobles nodded their agreement.
Friedrich struggled to lift his head, blood still on his lips. "You... all of you..." He gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Are you really going to stand there and let this commoner treat us like this?" His voice cracked, desperation bleeding through every word. "He attacked a noble! We should drag him before the magistrate—have him thrown in chains!"
Arthur turned to look at him.
Friedrich, who'd been about to continue his tirade, suddenly went still.
He couldn't understand why, but the longer Arthur's gaze held his, the more his body screamed at him to stop talking. It felt like staring into the eyes of Death itself—ancient, patient, and utterly certain. Every instinct he possessed told him that one more word would be his last.
His head dropped, eyes wide with primal fear.
The other nobles watched Friedrich bow his head the moment Arthur looked at him. Whatever they'd believed about this situation before, they understood now that Arthur was far more dangerous than they'd assumed.
'Hmph. A touch of killing intent is all it takes to break a spoiled brat.' Arthur turned back to the other nobles. "I have limited patience for this kind of theater. So let me be direct—I'll honor the contracts with a new arrangement. You'll become producers for the telenovelas and programs broadcast from your respective theatres."
"Producers?" One of the older nobles frowned. "What in the world is that? And what are 'telenovelas' and 'programs'?"
The confusion rippled through the group. Arthur opened his mouth to explain, but Naruto stepped forward first.
Within a few minutes, Naruto had sketched out the basics—television, broadcast entertainment, serialized dramas. His own world had television and a thriving film industry, so the concepts came naturally to him.
"So... that's what you meant..." Ellen's eyes had a different light in them now. Interest, maybe even excitement.
The other nobles weren't as quick to grasp it. They murmured among themselves, trying to reconcile what they'd heard with their existing understanding of theatre and performance. Some looked skeptical, others simply lost. A few kept circling back to their current privileges—private showings, family crests on display, exclusive access.
Arthur watched them for a moment, then spoke. "Your perspective might shift when you see your family crests broadcast on television—devices that thousands of citizens will own. Your names appearing in credits, visible to entire neighborhoods at once. This offers prestige and recognition on a scale you can't achieve with a single theatre."
Most of the nobles looked doubtful. The concepts were too abstract, too far removed from what they understood as status symbols.
But Ellen understood. "I'm in."
Her declaration drew glances from the younger nobles. A few nodded slowly, following her lead.
The older nobles remained unconvinced.
A silver-haired man in his fifties stepped forward, his expression hardened by years of political maneuvering. "We should formalize this with a contract. If within one month—one month, mind you—we are not satisfied with this 'television' and these so-called producer roles, then you will restore our original agreements in full. No exceptions. And you will compensate us for any loss of standing during this trial period."
Arthur didn't hesitate. "One month? Agreed." His smile was easy, confident.
This was better than making enemies. He could convert these nobles into actual producers for his television network—N.E.W.S.—and expand his influence without constant resistance. They'd become invested in the system rather than fighting against it.
More importantly, he couldn't afford to antagonize too many powerful figures. Not here.
This wasn't his home world. Local gods watched over this realm, and more critically, the Origin itself—the world's consciousness—would react if he started eliminating significant portions of the nobility. Drawing that kind of attention was the last thing he needed while still establishing his foundation.
"Since we've resolved our differences, let's conclude this meeting." Arthur's tone shifted to something almost cordial.
He even approached Friedrich and placed a hand on the man's shoulder, channeling healing energy through the damaged mana pathways. The burns faded, the internal disruption settled.
Friedrich looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes—unable to reconcile the man who'd terrified him moments ago with the one now healing him.
After the nobles and Wizard Knights departed, Arthur returned to his desk and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He was already looking forward to Delly's face when the man realized his scheme had accomplished nothing.
The door opened. Apollonia stepped inside.
"Little sister." Arthur looked up. "What can I do for you?"
"I've been thinking..." Apollonia hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "It's been wonderful here, truly. But months have passed. Even though only weeks have gone by back home, I find myself missing it. I'd like to visit—just for a little while."
Arthur studied her. He understood. "You're right. It's probably time we checked in. See how things have developed in our absence."
Relief washed over Apollonia's face. She'd clearly been worried he'd react poorly.
"The time differential is going to be a problem, though." Arthur leaned back, thinking aloud. "If we spend even one week there, a full month passes here. And I have obligations that can't wait a month."
"That shouldn't be insurmountable."
Arthur turned. Saza materialized near the window, her elven features catching the afternoon light.
"Saza." Arthur nodded.
She returned the gesture. "I can calibrate the time differential between the two worlds. With a properly constructed space-time array, we can synchronize the flow so that time passes equally in both places—or at whatever ratio you prefer."
"What's the catch?" Arthur asked.
"Materials. Rare ones." Saza's expression grew more serious. "Celestial Iron, Void Crystal, Temporal Sand—those are difficult but obtainable. The real problem is the final component. We need blood from a Hexathyr."
"A what?"
"Hexathyr. An ancient race known for their mastery over space and time. They're powerful enough to rival gods—not in raw strength necessarily, but in their command of dimensional forces. The difficulty isn't just their power. They're nearly impossible to find. Most of them left this world ages ago to travel the void between realms."
Arthur went still. His mind reached back through recent memory.
"Wait. Hexathyr?" He stroked his chin. "I've heard that name before..."
Saza raised an eyebrow. "You have?"
Arthur nodded slowly, piecing it together. Then his eyes widened slightly.
'The goat deity.' The strange creature he'd captured during his expedition beyond the world. The one currently stored away, forgotten until this moment.