[Chapter 75: Monarch: A Legacy of Storytellers.]
[Alternative Titles: The Last Age.]
Last Time on Chapter 074 of From Shadows To The Spotlight —
"So," Alex said, settling into his seat across from them, the view of the ocean casting soft light across his face. "Are you two hungry?"
Brandon grinned. "I could eat."
Alex chuckled lightly, and leaned back as he reached for the tasting menu. The low hum of waves beyond the window was the only sound for a moment—a moment heavy with anticipation, quiet truths, and the calm before whatever storm was still to come.
He just hoped to weather this storm and not lose a good friend in the process.
Now Continuing —
~ The White Lotus – Private Room 9 ~
The time passed in a peaceful cadence.
Desserts had just been served, a delicate arrangement of sweet osmanthus jelly with lychee sorbet and sesame tuile — light, fragrant, elevated, and elegant yet nostalgic.
Brandon leaned back, a lazy smile on his face, swirling the last bite across his plate before popping it in his mouth.
Shannon sighed in contentment, setting her spoon down. "This… reminds me of the street sweets we used to sneak off and get back in Hangzhou."
Brandon grinned. "The ones outside Grandma's house?"
"Exactly," she laughed softly. "The old lady who made those rice flour rolls with rose syrup—"
"—And smacked your hand when you didn't pay fast enough." Brandon smirked back teasingly.
Across the table, Alex gave a modest smile. "I'm glad it resonated with you. Our pastry chef is from Zhejiang province, she's trained in both French and Chinese techniques."
"And takes a lot of pride in making sure that even the smallest dish speaks for themselves. I told her that you'd be the guest for today's lunch and it looks like she didn't disappoint."
A soft silence followed the lull of their conversation. The sun had begun its descent, casting golden arcs across the ocean outside. Inside, the soft amber lighting accented the room's refined elegance.
Alex set his napkin down, his voice steady but serious now. "Bran, let's talk."
Brandon nodded, while Shannon perked up as this was the moment she was waiting for. The food had been phenomenal, probably the best she had ever tasted but with Alex's words, she could tell it was finally showtime and she put her game face on.
"I called you out here, because I wanted to talk to you about the Matrix's release schedule."
"This isn't just about studio numbers or box office projections anymore. You are well aware of just what kind of hell Titanic went through. Every disaster, every production delay. You know just how many bridges had to be built—or burned down—just to keep it from sinking."
"And now... my marketing heads are pushing me to delay The Matrix until after the release of Titanic as..."
Shannon's eyes widened as she straightened in her seat. "See?! See?! I told you, Bran! I told you he was going to delay The Matrix but you didn't believe me. See this is the re—"
"Shan!" Brandon cut in sharply, holding up a hand, "please, for the love of God.. sit down and let him finish."
Her mouth opened again, a protest forming, but Brandon's eyes pinned her in place—cold, commanding.
"Don't make me repeat myself again."
Shannon huffed and sank back into her chair, arms folded across her chest.
Brandon turned to Alex, his expression apologetic. "Sorry about her. She's…"
Alex raised a hand gently, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It's fine."
He gazed down for a second, then raised his eyes and locked in. "They told me that we can't give Titanic and The Matrix the agreed upon numbers of screens if they are both released on Christmas.
Seeing the questioning look on the brother and sister's faces, he explained, "the other studios like Disney and Universal have put a lot of "pressure" on the cinema chains to allot more screens for their movies this Christmas."
Brandon nodded, understanding where he was coming from and replied, "I can't even blame them for playing dirty, the way Monarch has dominated the summer files, if I were in the same shoes I would be panicking and using underhanded tactics as well."
Alex nodded and continued, "Now Titanic's already been delayed for over a year, while the Matrix is still in post—"
Alex paused, he felt ashamed to force his friend to make such a choice, ashamed at his weakness to not be able to move in an overt manner and just acquire the resources he was lacking.
He leaned forward now, voice lower, more personal. "I know you did The Matrix because of me, Bran. You and I saw something in that script—and despite your agent telling you not to touch it—you believed in it and you believed in me. I haven't forgotten that."
Brandon blinked slowly, watching him.
"So," Alex continued, "I'm putting this decision in your hands."
Brandon and Shannon both looked surprised.
Alex laid it out simply. "You've got three options before you."
"Option one: Release both Titanic and The Matrix this Christmas regardless of what I just told. Who knows the two films might just dominate the box office and squeeze out Disney and Universal. But the chances of it happening are slim as both will be allotted less screens."
"What's my next option?" He asked immediately.
"Option two: The Matrix gets released on Christmas, but the Titanic's release is moved to March."
"Option three: Titanic gets released on Christmas, but The Matrix's release is moved to next summer."
He poured himself a glass of dark red wine, shifted his chair slightly to face the sea, and took a slow sip.
"Now which one would you pick, Bran?"
Brandon stared at the table for a long moment, thinking. The ocean whispered outside.
He had already ruled out option one as it was just suicide for both films.
Which left him with a choice between ambition and loyalty.
Shannon nudged him, as she leaned in, and whispered near his ear, "Is this real? He's actually leaving it to you?"
Brandon nodded. "I don't know if I ever told you this, but Alex never lies. Especially not to his friends."
"Never?" she whispered back.
"Not that I know of. When I asked him once for the reason, he told me lying messes with his peace of mind. It's like a compulsion—he either tells the truth or just stays silent."
Shannon tilted her head, studying Alex in a new light. "Then what are you hesitating for? Just pick The Matrix for Christmas and delay Titanic for a few months."
Brandon whispered, "It's not that simple. Titanic has already faced too many hurdles. Alex has a lot riding on it. Releasing it in March might kill it."
"Then why not put it in the summer file? Like he said about doing with The Matrix?"
"There's a window. He can't hold it that long. And Titanic isn't a summer movie—it's a tragic romance. Summer's for action blockbusters."
"What about February? There's Valentine's Day. It would be perfect."
"In theory, yeah. But in Hollywood, January and February are generally considered as 'dump months.' Mostly used by the Studios to toss films they've lost confidence in. It'd be the death knell for Titanic."
Shannon's brows furrowed. "Wait. How is Alex even deciding on this alone? Doesn't Fox own half of Titanic?"
Brandon smirked, a little proud of her observation. "You caught that detail, huh? Well you see, Fox backed out when the film ran over budget and beyond the time limit for completion. Alex matched their investment. All $115 million from his personal funds."
Shannon exhaled slowly. "So he needs this movie to hit."
Brandon nodded. "I owe him that much, sis."
Shannon looked at him, then at Alex, and gave a small nod of reluctant approval. "Fine."
Brandon turned to Alex. "I've made my choice—"
Just then, the soft chime of the bell rang outside the room.
Alex leaned down and pressed a discreet button that was under the table, and the door slid open.
Donna stepped in gracefully, her posture apologetic. She gave Brandon a polite bow, then crossed over to Alex and handed him a sleek, slim phone.
Alex took the call, his expression turning still.
"No, I don't care. Increase the offer again—155, and this time, be firm. Make it clear it's our final number. If they still refuse, remind them we have other methods. They're not the only ones selling."
He ended the call, handed the phone back to Donna, and said, "Add a trip to Tsushima and Osaka in my calendar. Two weeks from now."
Donna nodded and exited silently.
Brandon watched him carefully. "Everything okay?"
Alex nodded as he sat back down. "Just trying to buy out a Japanese video game studio. I already hold a majority stake, but I need seventy-five percent to take full control."
Brandon chuckled under his breath. "Of course you are."
Alex smiled faintly. "So… what's your decision?"
Brandon inhaled deeply. "Delay The Matrix. Move it to summer."
Alex gave a quiet laugh, something between relief and warmth. "Thanks. For taking it easy on me, old friend."
He lifted his wineglass slightly in a silent toast. "I'll increase the Matrix's marketing budget by twenty million and a minimum of 4000 screens. You've my word that it'll be the biggest summer release next year."
Brandon grinned. "What are your plans tonight?"
"I've got a sit-down with a Mexican director. Guillermo del Toro."
"Oh?" Brandon leaned forward with a knowing smirk. "A film of his catch your eye?"
"He's a diamond in the rough. A true artist. I've got a few projects I think he'd be perfect for, but I can't decide which one to hand him." Alex turned, patted a thick leather binder resting on a cushion behind him. "So I'm going to put this in front of him and ask, Tell me which one strikes your fancy?"
Brandon raised an eyebrow. "Can I get a peek?"
Alex laughed, handing the binder over. "You don't need to ask, you know. I might grow in status or wealth, but I'm still the same Alex who split a packet of instant noodles with you twelve years ago when you crashed at my place and I forgot to buy groceries."
Brandon accepted the binder, smiling fondly at the memory.
Alex turned to Shannon. "I'm glad my friend has such a fierce sister—someone who isn't afraid to stand up for him." He gestured towards the binder. "Feel free to take a look too. Who knows? Maybe you'll find a story in there that speaks to you."
The sun dipped lower beyond the glass, casting long golden shadows across the room. And for the first time that day, the silence felt like peace, not anticipation.
----------
~Monarch HQ, Private Suite – A few hours later, at Night~
The ambiance had changed with the falling sun. Where the previous meeting had ended in golden warmth, the room now glowed in muted, amber tones from hidden lamps—inviting, yet focused. Across the small table, Guillermo del Toro sat, his eyes scanning the space with that usual quiet curiosity of a man who saw stories in everything.
Alex entered with purposeful ease, carrying a sleek leather binder beneath one arm. "Guillermo," he said with a slight bow of the head, "I owe you an apology. This meeting has been far too long in coming."
Del Toro looked up and smiled faintly. "You're a busy man, Alex. I assumed you were off saving the Titanic from sinking or discovering Atlantis."
Alex chuckled. "If only. No, I've been refining a few things—ideas I wanted to get.. just right before putting them in front of you. Ideas I believe you'd be perfect to bring to life."
Del Toro leaned in slightly, curiosity piqued. "Ideas?"
Alex nodded and placed the binder on the table between them. "I've heard of your fascination with monsters—your belief that they're metaphors for the human condition, not just creatures to be feared. So I curated a few stories with that in mind. Let me know if any of them catch your eye."
He paused, reaching into a folder and pulling out a single sheet of paper and a pen.
"But before we dive in, I'll need you to sign this please."
Del Toro raised a brow. "An NDA?" His tone held a trace of surprise, but no resistance.
Alex gave a small smile. "None of what's in this binder has been copyrighted, registered, or backed up anywhere else. This is the one and only copy. Not even my assistants have read it. None of the rival studios have any idea of the projects it contains, I'd like to keep it that way."
Del Toro's eyebrows arched higher, now intrigued. He shrugged, took the pen, and signed without reading too closely.
"I just hope," he said as he slid the paper back, "that what you've got in there is worth the wait."
Alex handed him the binder with a proud grin. "Then I suppose it's showtime."
Del Toro took it with both hands, the weight of it heavier than it seemed. He stared at the cover, unmarked leather—simple, unassuming. But he knew better. Monarch did things differently. In a decade, the studio had gone from an upstart passion project to a titan standing toe-to-toe with the Big Six.
People whispered about secret pipelines, foreign financiers, and ideas born from fever dreams and drunken challenges and brainstorming sessions in writer rooms late into the night. To rise so fast in this industry, Alex couldn't have done things entirely by the book.
And this binder… it felt like one of those unspoken secrets.
With a slow inhale, he opened it.
---------
The rain pattered softly against the window. A heavy leather binder, thick and weathered, sat on a polished coffee table under the warm glow of a brass lamp. Guillermo Del Toro, vibrant and imaginative, slowly flipped through the pages slowly. Across from him, Alex was writing down the corrections that would need to be made to the scripts of the movies, he was also planning for the principal photography of Iron-Man.
He had already talked with RDJ, and his friend had first congratulated him about the pregnancy and had been quite understanding when asked to start filming a few months in advance. Though it was probably because Robert's schedule had been free recently and they would be mostly filming the scenes that Pepper would be in.
Meanwhile, Del Toro was engrossed in the contents of the Binder Alex had handed him.
The title on the binder had read:Monarch: A Legacy of Storytellers.
"He who fights monsters, should see to it that in doing so he does not lose his humanity and become a monster himself." – A.M.
The index alone felt like the blueprint of a cinematic universe built from marrow and myth. He halted when he saw the first idea which was marked with a red tab—bold, urgent, beckoning.
1. The Last Age
"Every religion talks about the end of the world; we had been warned it was coming, but we chose to forget."
Premise: Across every civilization, faith, and culture, our ancestors have whispered of an ending — a final reckoning, a breaking of the world. From the snow-cloaked fields of Ragnarök to the divine firestorms of the Revelation to the apocalyptic floods of the Maha Pralaya, these prophecies have persisted like echoes passed down in bone and blood.
They were never fiction. They were actually warnings.
In the near future, humanity finds itself living out every apocalypse at once. This isn't the sudden detonation of one world-ending event—it's a gradual collapse, a multi-pronged, layered undoing of reality itself. The oceans rise. The stars fall. Plagues walk. The subservient AI begins to rebel as the gods sleep. The myths have returned, not to be remembered, but to judge us, the current conquerors of the world.
Technology falters, and machines no longer obey their human creators as AI turns against its makers. Nature itself has taken up arms against its conqueror and turned hostile. Ancient monsters and titans have reawakened in wrath and confusion. Legends crawl out from storybooks into cities. And yet... not all is lost.
Scattered across the globe, certain individuals—would be chosen but not for their strength or power, rather it is their pure of heart, character, empathy, and resilience—that drew the gaze of the divine and swayed their mind to impart this one last gift.
They are blessed with glimpses of long-lost magic, worthy of wielding ancient weapons, or fragments of divine will. Though not to fight back and win, for it is already too late, but rather to build sanctuaries, to slow the unraveling, and to give humanity one last chance at unity, survival or rebirth.
Told across interwoven stories set in the culturally rich backdrop of countries like India, Japan, Scandinavia, Egypt, China, the United States, cultures across Africa, and beyond, The Last Age is a deeply spiritual, mythologically rooted, horror-laced cinematic saga that explores the end of the world through the eyes of the cultures that first imagined it.
– To be continued…
{2,732 words}
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