On the third floor of Zog's Toy Store, an entire wall was covered by a black backdrop.
In front of it stood a wooden frame painted black, with an insignia on it. A circular hole was carved out of the middle, just the right size for Zog's head.
Opposite, the Ghost Camera was in position.
Elsa gave a thumbs-up, signaling that everything was ready. "Three, two, one, action!"
Zog tilted his head to the left, "ROAR—," then to the right, "ROAR—," and blinked.
"Cut."
Elsa reviewed the footage. 'How did Zog suddenly seem so cute?'
This was the opening that had left the deepest impression on Zog, bar none. The reason was simple: as a child, he always had to watch that lion roar a couple of times before Tom and Jerry came on.
He couldn't even remember which company the opening belonged to, but the lion was etched in his memory forever.
So when it came time to create an opening for *Holy Mountain Journey*, the idea came to him naturally. 'It's only logical for the Zog Film Studio logo to be Zog himself.'
With the opening out of the way, the next step was the end credits.
They found an extra-long roll of paper, dyed it black, and hired a professional scribe to write out the names and positions.
Yes, professional scribes still existed, and they could genuinely write with print-like precision. For low-volume jobs, they were more cost-effective.
It was foreseeable, however, that as printing technology developed, the cost of printing would soon drop to a fraction of handwriting, and these scribes would lose their jobs as a result.
'Perhaps transitioning to writing on irregular objects, like ship names, or pivoting toward the art of calligraphy would be a viable path for them.'
The art world was also seeking to transform under the impact of photography, from the exaggeration and simplification of comics to Furin's influenced attempts at abstract, anti-realist styles.
'I'm in a real hurry for them to succeed. Once they do, I'll have a place to find talent for animation and graphic design.'
He also wanted to take on everything himself and invent all sorts of new art forms, but his abilities were limited. 'History is never made by a single individual.'
They hung the list of names, attached one end to a roller, and completed the credit roll in the most primitive fashion.
Zog shamelessly listed himself as the director, screenwriter, and so on. 'After all, no one in this world has ever heard of Earth.'
Elsa, on the other hand, was thrilled. She used Recording Magic to imprint the section where her name appeared as "Executive Director" onto a sheet of paper and mailed it to her mother in a letter.
With the simple work finished, the real ordeal was yet to come.
Editing.
There weren't even any computers here, let alone programs like Premiere, Final Cut, or iMovie. Those were just a pipe dream.
Although the Magic Crystal Stones stored the data as Magic Power fluctuations, without any digital processing tools, he could only use his own Magic Power to cut them apart and splice them back together.
This was editing in its most literal sense.
Unlike with the rough cut, the final version required precision. But since the data in the Magic Crystal Stone couldn't be played in slow motion, Zog had no choice but to cast an Acceleration Technique on himself.
High Magic Resistance or not, casting the acceleration spell too many times would make even a Dragon feel woozy. He ended up having to edit for a while, then rest for a while.
Just as Zog was resting his dragon head on the windowsill to alleviate his dizziness, Xin 104 returned.
"Great Master." The goblin, dressed in formal attire, bowed deeply.
After arriving in Twin Tower City, the goblins were the race that had changed the most among Zog's subordinates. They were showing a tendency to transform from evil beasts living in caves into a highly intelligent species that created goblin technology from scratch.
"What's the situation?" Zog asked, his voice weak. He still felt like the ground was spinning.
"There's no discernible pattern to the outbreak locations of the 'steam curse.' However, the owners of these factories are almost all closely affiliated with the Church."
"Hmm?" That answer was unexpected. 'I figured someone must have stopped paying tribute to the Church, and that the Church had a secret organization to deal with those who didn't pay their protection fees.'
"What about a cure? Have the doctors found a way to treat the people in the refugee district?" Zog continued.
"The vast majority of doctors believe the 'steam curse' is incurable. A few have hinted that they *aren't allowed* to treat it. The Church periodically performs exorcisms, and there have been some cases of recovery, so the Royal Family has entrusted the Church to handle the matter."
'That's understandable,' Zog thought. 'Saving the suffering from their plight is a surefire way to gain the most devout believers. The only question is where that plight came from in the first place.'
'Could the Church have gone to all this trouble just to increase its number of followers?'
Zog was skeptical. 'If they just wanted more followers, couldn't they just hand out eggs, flour, and cooking oil? The lines at the church would be huge.'
"However, there is a doctor in the refugee district who says he is willing to try researching the 'steam curse.' He has already found volunteers to participate in his experiments."
"That's excellent. Whatever he needs, we can provide financial support."
"No, Master. He says he doesn't need funds, only a safe place."
Hearing this, Zog lifted his head from the windowsill. 'Now things are getting interesting.'
He thought for a moment, then instructed Xin 104, "Contact Beastman Zor and..."
————————
Rain began to fall on Twin Tower City. It washed over the refugee district, creating a mixture of mud, sewage, and rancid grease that gave off a smell the doctor knew all too well.
"KNOCK KNOCK!" A muffled knock sounded at the door.
He tightened his plague doctor mask, put on his top hat, shouldered a large pack, and said to the patients in the room, "Let's go. Our escort has arrived."
He opened the door to find two Beastmen standing there, as imposing as walls.
"The doctor?"
"That's me."
"Name?"
"'Doctor' will do."
"Good name. War Axe likes it. Other Human names are too confusing."
"Where are we going?"
"Dragon Island."
"Which Dragon Island?"
"Dragon Island is Dragon Island."
"Which Dragon is your master?" The doctor didn't react much to being taken to a Dragon's territory. His situation was already terrible; 'how much worse could it possibly get?'
"Zog."
Hearing this name, the patients behind the doctor gasped in alarm.
"Don't be afraid. Zog is the best Dragon."
"Have you ever met any other Dragons?" the other Beastman interjected.
"No, but Zog is still the best Dragon."
"That's not a very logical conclusion."
"War Axe's axe is all the logic I need!"
"Hold on," the doctor interrupted the two Beastmen before they could start arguing. "First things first. Is anyone following us?"
"Of course. A few Zor are hiding on the rooftops. The goblin said War Axe isn't observant enough, but War Axe can protect you all by himself!"
'Whoever that goblin is, he has my thanks,' the doctor thought.
"Then let's be on our way."
Amidst the gloomy rain, a small boat departed from the harbor.
After sailing with an easterly wind for more than two hours, the sky grew dark, and the shores of the Continent were no longer visible.
Suddenly, the horizon flashed white. An instant later, thunder boomed. A beam of blue light, synchronized with the thunder, descended upon the boat.
As the light faded, a Warrior emerged, clad in pure white heavy armor and holding a Warhammer etched with Magic Runes.
"In the name of the Goddess, come out now. Abandon all resistance, and you will be granted eternal rest."
Half a minute later, there was no response.
"You have made your choice. May the Goddess forgive my slaughter."
The Warrior waited no longer. He raised his Warhammer and charged, shattering the entire cabin in an instant.
'No one here?'
Behind his faceplate, the Warrior's eyes grew wary. He was about to step forward to investigate when he noticed seawater pooling over his feet.
'It's taking on water! An ambush!'
The Warrior didn't hesitate. He immediately took out a Teleportation Stone and began to chant the Spell.
However, the stone flickered twice, then went dark.
He snapped his head up. A flash of lightning illuminated the night sky, revealing a Fishman Priest standing at the bow. The monster held a Short Staff, using it to sustain a magical barrier.
'A Demon-Banning Beacon?'
'Why would a Fishman possess such a High-Level Magic Item?'
There was no time for him to think. He spun around and dashed in the other direction, trying to escape the barrier's range.
However, webbed, blue claws began grabbing onto the hull from all sides. Fishmen had him surrounded.
On land, he would have been confident in breaking through the encirclement, but this was the sea.
The seawater was already up to his knees. The Fishmen weren't in a hurry. The sea would eventually swallow him whole.
'There's no time left.'
The Warrior raised his Warhammer again, silently recited a prayer, and launched a final charge toward the Fishman Priest...