Lord of Entertainment C307 New Hellfire Hyped Film

(3rd Person POV)

The Walkman was taking the music world by storm.

Just three weeks after its debut in Horn Kingdom, the device had already expanded into neighboring nations. Music labels quickly adapted, releasing their songs on the new format—cassette tapes—exclusively designed for the Walkman’s compact system.

Media outlets couldn’t stop talking about it. Articles, opinion pieces, and weekly features filled the pages of music magazines and entertainment news channels. Headlines like:

“Music, Reinvented: The Age of the Walkman Begins.”

“Portable Sound, Magical Impact—Why Everyone’s Wearing Earpieces These Days.”

Amidst the frenzy, Joseph Jackson was making waves of his own.

Fresh off the success of his debut track, he had just released a second single—which quickly climbed to the Top 70 on the Horn Music Charts. His momentum was undeniable, and his small but loyal fanbase was growing fast.

On Hellbook Forums, requests poured in:

“When’s the first Joseph Jackson concert?”

“We need a live performance at Hellscape!”

“Give him a stage already!”

But before Joseph could enjoy the full spotlight, Hellfire shifted the cultural conversation once again.

A new film promotion hit the streets—and hit hard.

Within days, millions had seen the posters. They were everywhere: plastered across bus stops, lighting up public lobby screens, stretched across massive billboards in cities across Horn, Morningstar, Bharat, the U.S.E., Kanata, Aztec, Wales, and more.

The sheer scale of the campaign was familiar to long-time fans.

Whenever Hellfire rolled out this level of marketing, it meant one thing:

A blockbuster was coming.

It was a strategy proven with their past legends: Demonfather, Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings.

Now, that same treatment was being given to a mysterious new title—Star Wars.

On Hellbook Forums, fans immediately lit up:

“Hellfire’s cooking something big again… A film that could rival Return of the King? I’m ready. Just from the poster alone, Star Wars looks promising.”

“Is the trailer out yet? I’m dying to know what this one’s about!”

“Wait… is that Clint Foster on the poster?! I’ve been a fan since his westerns. Seeing him in a Hellfire blockbuster? Let’s go!”

“Finally! Clint’s back in a real production. Not some low-budget flick. Directed by Arthur himself!”

“After The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, I thought Arthur forgot about Clint. Glad to see he didn’t.”

Excitement snowballed fast.

Longtime fans were especially shocked by the speed of this release. The Return of the King had just wrapped up the Lord of the Rings saga—and yet here was Hellfire, launching a new mega-project right on its heels.

Even mainstream media outlets joined in:

“Star Wars: Hellfire’s Next Heavyweight. Is it another western masterpiece like Arthur’s The Good, The Bad and The Ugly? Judging by the poster… maybe not.”

“Who is the masked man with the glowing blade? A god? A new demon lord?”

The truth was—no one knew.

No trailer. No synopsis. Only a poster.

It featured Clint Foster, dressed in rugged space gear, holding a blaster with his signature smirk—undeniably playing Han Solo.

Beside him, a looming figure stood shrouded in black. A towering silhouette clad in dark armor, with a sleek, obsidian helmet and a crimson-glowing sword in hand. His mere presence gave off an air of cold, mechanical menace.

Darth Vader—though the public didn’t know the name yet—already sparked theories.

“Who is the masked man?”

“That sword… it’s not a blade, is it? It glows like fire…”

Speculation ran wild. Hype surged.

Hellfire had done it again—seized the world’s attention with just a name, a poster, and a mystery.

---

Meanwhile, deep within the Nether Realm, Arthur hovered silently above a vast, winding river. The water shimmered with a faint thread of scarlet light, pulsing as though in rhythm with the red moon that loomed high in the sky.

He glanced upward.

Every time he looked at that blood-hued moon, something stirred inside him—an unnatural heat in his veins. His golden eyes reflected the crimson glow, briefly turning molten-scarlet. He turned his gaze away.

‘Tch.’ That moon always felt like it was watching.

He floated toward a massive cave—a gaping black maw carved into the side of a jagged cliff. The closer he drew, the colder the air became. The silence was absolute.

“…Too quiet,” Arthur murmured.

The Nether Realm was a place of chaos. Creatures roared, the air whispered with cursed voices, and monstrosities clawed their way through shattered terrain. But here?

There was nothing.

No sound. No motion.

It wasn't peace. It was pressure.

He stepped closer, and his senses picked up a faint ripple—a hidden frequency. A divine barrier, faint and ancient, stretched across the mouth of the cave like an invisible curtain.

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

“This energy…” he muttered, reaching into the flow of magic. “It’s like the seal at the Anus Gate—the one that prevents Nether creatures from spilling into the mortal world.”

But this was far more powerful. Older. Heavier.

This wasn’t just a protective seal.

It was containment.

His expression darkened.

“…This is it,” he said quietly. “The place marked by the Nether Puzzle Box.”

His gaze fixed on the shadowed depths beyond the barrier.

“The Old Deities Prison.”

The name wasn’t speculation. It was carved into his mind the moment the Puzzle Box opened. This cave wasn’t a myth. It was real.

Arthur hadn’t come here chasing rumors. He came to find the truth he already knew—to uncover what the gods had tried to bury.

He reached into his inventory and pulled out a glowing talisman—etched with divine runes and thrumming with barely-contained energy.

A one-time-use «Divine Teleportation» artifact.

It cost him 30,000 Divine Points, and it was his only safety net. He had set an emergency return point near the Anus Gate three weeks ago. If things spiraled out of control, the talisman would instantly pull him back.

He studied the barrier closely, his eyes scanning the subtle frequency patterns etched into the divine seal.

“This seal…” he murmured, his voice low and steady, “It wasn’t made to keep mortals out.”

His gaze sharpened, golden eyes narrowing.

“It was made to hold gods.”

The word echoed in his thoughts.

‘Gods…’

The world he lived in was ruled by three: the Moon Goddess, the God of Craft, and above all, the most feared and revered—Solarus, the God of Light.

He had never met them.

And he didn’t plan to.

If any of them discovered his existence—if they realized he had also ascended into divinity—they would see him as a threat. That much, he was certain of.

With a shake of his head, Arthur took a step forward and passed through the barrier.

The moment he crossed, an invisible weight slammed down on him. His feet sank several inches into the damp, smushy ground.

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue, leaping up and channeling a precise flow of energy through the soles of his feet—allowing him to stand on the surface with perfect balance.

“Didn’t expect the pressure to make the ground feel like liquid… If my body were any weaker, I’d have been crushed into it,” he muttered, brushing off his cloak as he pressed forward.

The cave was dark—pitch black, even—but Arthur’s divine sight pierced through the gloom. There were no bats. No howls. No monstrous creatures.

Only stillness.

The cave walls glistened like polished obsidian, and rivulets of water trickled down them in unnatural, luminescent streams. The scenery was eerily beautiful—almost too pristine for the Nether Realm.

As he moved deeper, a faint glint caught his eye.

Chains.

Thick, ancient chains embedded into the stone—lined with pulsing runes he didn’t recognize.

“Chains?” he muttered. “Looks like they lead somewhere…”

He followed them.

With every step, the pressure increased. A lesser being would have collapsed under the strain, but for Arthur—it was child's play.

Then he stopped.

His eyes widened.

In the next chamber, a man was chained to the wall—completely naked, his body slumped forward, long black hair hanging over his face.

The chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles, glowing faintly. The air around him was thick, heavy… divine.

“A deity…?” Arthur’s mind raced. ‘And this is only the surface?’

The man stirred.

A weak groan escaped his lips as he slowly lifted his head. His face came into view—young, pale, with striking angular features and deep, soul-worn eyes. His lean yet defined build exuded both elegance and power, like a warrior forged in silence and suffering.

The moment their eyes met, the chained man flinched.

“Wh—What? Someone… someone made it in here?!”

Arthur didn’t answer.

He was frozen, staring.

His voice slipped out without thinking.

“…Neo?”