(3rd Person POV)
Kaiser's excitement about the death games was palpable. He'd already begun arranging operations, even settling on a name: Money Game. Four hundred fifty-six players competing for 45.6 million dollars.
"I've reached out to several wealthy acquaintances," Kaiser continued, his tone carrying no hint of moral concern. "They're interested in watching—privately, of course. I'll handle recruitment myself, scouting the full 456 participants. Everything matches your specifications exactly."
Arthur nodded, then fell silent. The weight of what he'd set in motion pressed against his thoughts. This had been his idea, after all—his design brought to life.
"Have you identified potential recruits yet?" Arthur asked carefully. "And where will you search for them?" He paused, his tone growing firmer. "We had an agreement. Only people who've already chosen violence and crime. No innocents."
Perhaps Firfel truly was changing him. The discomfort he felt about this project was genuine, not just performative guilt.
"I'll recruit personally," Kaiser assured him with confidence. "And although you've absorbed some of my Monetary Faith—I know you're essentially the new Lord of Wealth now—I still maintain enough connection to hear prayers related to money and desperation. I've already compiled a list of candidates based on those prayers. Criminals, debtors who've hurt others, people already steeped in blood."
"Good." Arthur's voice was cold as he surveyed the facility one final time. The setup matched the Squid Game series from his previous life perfectly—hardly surprising since he'd purchased the script directly from the Entertainment System.
"Don't forget your promise," Arthur said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "No innocents participate. None."
Kaiser wanted to argue. He didn't fully understand why Arthur—clearly a deity with power beyond mortal concerns—still clung to such distinctions. "Of course, of course," he replied smoothly.
But something in his tone suggested the promise might be flexible when inconvenient.
---
January 1st, 1277 arrived in Horn Kingdom with celebrations across the capital.
Arthur and Firfel welcomed the New Year together from the mansion balcony at Victory Peak. Fireworks exploded across the sky in brilliant cascades of color. They stood hand in hand, watching the display paint the darkness.
The moon hung large and luminous above them, unusually prominent tonight.
Normally, Firfel would be performing prayers to the Moon Goddess at this hour. In elven culture, the moment midnight struck on New Year's was sacred—a time of worship and gratitude.
But her perspective had shifted considerably. After everything Arthur had taught her about gods, after learning he was divine himself, the old traditions felt different. Hollow, even.
Worship strengthened deities, yet those deities rarely responded. They consumed faith without reciprocation.
Arthur drew her closer, breathing in the floral scent of her hair. "Spending New Year's with you feels... complete. Like this is exactly where I'm meant to be."
Firfel hummed softly, though her eyes carried complicated emotions she couldn't quite articulate.
"I have something to show you," Arthur said suddenly.
Curiosity sparked across her features. "What is it?"
"Come with me." He took her hand and led her from the balcony, through the mansion, and out into the garden.
Firfel's confusion grew as they walked deeper into the grounds. Then she stopped abruptly, her breath catching.
A tree stood before them, glowing with soft bioluminescent light. Tendrils hung from its branches like living threads, pulsing gently with energy. The sight triggered immediate recognition—and profound awe.
"This is..." Firfel stepped forward slowly, drawn by the sacred feeling radiating from the tree. "This is the same as that giant tree from the other world. The one the Na'vi showed us."
"Exactly." Arthur's smile was soft, genuine. "A Tree of Souls from Pandora."
Though the Na'vi had never named their world or themselves, Arthur had decided those names fit perfectly. The planet was Pandora. The people were Na'vi.
At the same time, Arthur had been noticing a pattern for some time now. This world borrowed heavily from Greek mythology—or perhaps shared some ancient connection to it. There was Aides, the former ruler of the Netherworld before Solarus overthrew him four hundred years ago. There was the Forbidden Tongue spoken by the Sirens he'd encountered—clearly a Greek language. The influences weren't minor coincidences.
"Pandora" seemed fitting, then. In Greek mythology, Pandora was the first woman of Earth. The name carried weight and history.
"It really is the same as that giant tree..." Firfel stepped closer, her voice filled with wonder. "But this one is normal-sized. Much smaller. How did you bring it here?"
Then realization struck her, and fear flooded her features. "Wait—taking seeds from that tree would be blasphemous to the Na'vi. Their Great Mother would never allow—did you—"
"No, nothing like that." Arthur raised his hands reassuringly. "I used a divine skill called 'replicate.' It allows me to copy objects, living things, even complex structures. I replicated the Tree of Souls without taking anything from Pandora."
He'd purchased the skill from the Entertainment System specifically for situations like this.
Firfel's eyes widened. "You can copy anything? Does this tree have the same abilities as the original?"
"Not quite." Arthur gestured at the glowing tree. "The replication captures the original's functions, but it's inherently inferior. It can't match the true Tree of Souls' power or connection to Great Mother."
He paused. "And it only lasts twenty-four hours before fading completely."
"That's still incredible." Firfel's amazement was genuine. "And honestly, twenty-four hours is enough. This brings back such wonderful memories of our time living in Pandora."
Her expression grew wistful. "I wonder when we can return to film there... but we can't just bring an entire crew and cast to another world without drawing attention. The Three Known Gods watch everything. They'd immediately know we have technology capable of interstellar travel."
Arthur nodded. That concern was valid and significant. "That's why I need to establish true control over this world first. Once I've consolidated enough power, no one—not even the Three Known Gods—can dictate what we do."
Firfel's hand tightened around his.
Despite Arthur's massive influence over entertainment, technology, and culture, he hadn't truly conquered this world yet. Hidden dangers remained. Powerful forces that could move against him if threatened.
Silence settled between them as they both contemplated the future's uncertainty.
Then Arthur did something that shocked her completely.
He knelt on one knee before her, the Tree of Souls glowing behind them, casting their silhouettes in soft bioluminescent light.
"Arthur... what are you doing?" Firfel's voice trembled.
Arthur pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it. Inside sat a ring—elegant, beautiful, stunning in its craftsmanship.
"Will you marry me?"
Firfel gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Words failed her completely.
"Will you?" Arthur repeated gently, his eyes meeting hers with vulnerable sincerity.
Firfel stared at him, emotions warring across her face. She was mortal—an actress, an elf who'd grown up in modest circumstances. The man proposing to her was a deity who could reshape reality, who commanded impossible power, who might one day rule this entire world.
The disparity felt overwhelming.
Yet when she looked at him kneeling there, she didn't see a god. She saw Arthur—the passionate filmmaker who'd given her a chance, who'd shown her worlds beyond imagination, who'd listened when she challenged his arrogance, who'd promised to be better for her.