(3rd POV)
Hellfire's marketing machine moved like clockwork. The Matrix trailers played on TVs across every nation, posters plastered every available wall, and Neo, Trinity, and Morpheus loomed from billboards over the heads of the four races like gods demanding attention.
They ate it up.
In Apple City, a cluster of humans stood beneath one such billboard, necks craned upward.
"Look at that." One of them gestured at the towering image. "I thought Arthur Pendragon was finished when the Pope declared him a heretic. But that courtroom summons went nowhere— and now he's already got a new movie out. The man's completely unbothered."
"The whole situation was bizarre from the start," another said, shaking his head. "The Pope came out swinging out of nowhere, calling entertainment evil. Where did that even come from?"
"That old man's gone senile." The third scoffed. "Can't believe he's an Empirican like us."
It was a sentiment many shared.
The courtroom debacle— where the Pope had publicly accused Arthur and his company, only to embarrass himself and walk away with absolutely nothing— had left a strange silence in its wake. The Church said nothing afterward. No follow-up. No explanation. Just silence, which somehow managed to be worse than anything they could have said.
The Solarus Faith bled influence across every land because of it. People renounced by the thousands. Some left out of disillusionment; others were pulled toward something newer, something that had been quietly growing in the U.S.E— a church called Dionysus.
By every measure, it should have been classified as a cult. But its followers were insistent: Dionysus was no false god, no evil god. He was, they claimed, a good friend of Solarus himself.
And stranger still— the Solarus Faith, which by all rights should have come out swinging against a rival religion encroaching on its territory, said absolutely nothing.
That silence only emboldened people further.
Word spread. Humans, elves, dwarves, demons— all of them grew curious. And those who made the leap found themselves surprisingly unregretting. Lord Dionysus, unlike the distant gods of established faiths, was remarkably responsive.
---
Days bled into weeks, and by mid-May 1277, The Matrix opened in theatres across the world.
There was no real competition when it came to Hellfire films— especially the ones directed by Arthur himself. The other studios had quietly rescheduled their releases the moment they saw the date. No point throwing themselves into a losing fight.
All except Titan Pictures, who apparently still hadn't learned that particular lesson.
Inside the theatres, the crowd buzzed with barely contained excitement.
"I've been waiting for this since forever!" A young woman clutched her popcorn with both hands, practically vibrating. "That actor— Keanu Reeves— he's my new favorite. Absolutely loved him in John Wick!"
"Same." Her friend pressed a hand to her chest with a dreamy sigh. "He's so manly. There's just something about the way he moves—"
"The movie hasn't even started yet and you're already like this."
"I'm allowed."
The lights dimmed. The film began. Popcorn sat forgotten halfway through the first act, hands still hovering over their bags, eyes locked to the screen and refusing to look away.
Hours later, they shuffled out into the evening air wearing the same expression— complicated, dazed, the look of people who had just been handed something tremendous and weren't entirely sure what to do with it.
The movie had been a masterpiece. They were certain of that much. But it had also cracked something open inside them, and none of them were in any rush to examine what, exactly, had shifted.
Reporters waited at the exits with notepads and recorders.
"Best movie I've ever seen in my entire life," one woman declared before the reporter had even finished her question, voice tight with conviction. "Nothing bad about it— not a single thing. It's simply perfect." Her eyes filled. "I'm having an existential crisis right now. I genuinely don't know what's real anymore, and truthfully? It was worth every second."
The reporter blinked, stylus hovering over her pad. 'That good, really? I know Hellfire always delivers, but... why does this woman look like she just witnessed the end of the world?'
She moved on.
"Everything is fake!" The next man grabbed her arm with both hands, eyes wide and urgent. "You understand what I'm saying? Everything! The walls, the street, you— all of it! Wake up!"
She extracted herself carefully and kept walking.
An elf she approached raised a hand before she could speak, his expression carrying the distant, beatific calm of someone who had recently been enlightened and was still settling into it.
"The red pill or the blue pill," he said— not a question. "That's what it comes down to. Think about it. This world, this life— it was built by something powerful. Something intelligent. It deceives us. It drains us of our mana, keeps us weak, keeps us compliant, so that it can reign forever without a single soul questioning it." He looked her in the eye. "Can you honestly say you accept that what surrounds you right now is real?"
The reporter pressed two fingers to her temple and said nothing.
She'd covered Hellfire releases before. She thought she knew what to expect.
'The reactions this year are even worse than last year...'
---
Unsurprisingly, The Matrix was an instant success.
The media accepted it without much fanfare. The public accepted it. Even the competing studios accepted it. This was just how things worked with Hellfire — Arthur released a film, it dominated, everyone moved on. Nothing new.
What was new was the reaction.
People weren't just talking about The Matrix. They were obsessed with it in a way that even Titanic hadn't managed, and Titanic had made grown men cry in public. This was different. This was louder and stranger and it wasn't settling down. On the internet, in markets, in schools — the conversation was everywhere.
In a secondary school in elven city, the lesson had been effectively abandoned:
"So if everything is fake— what even is real? Like genuinely, what is real?"
"Your exam next week. That's real."
"I'm being serious! Think about it right now. How do we know we're not inside something? How would we even tell?"
"I'd like to leave the simulation immediately if that's the case. This class is terrible."
"You wouldn't know though," another student said, leaning forward. "That's literally the point. If you were in the Matrix it would feel exactly like this. Sitting here. Right now. This exact moment."
Everyone went quiet.
"I hate this film."
"Same. I've thought about nothing else for three days."
---
On HellBook's forums, The Matrix had buried every other topic completely. The threads ran long and kept growing, which was remarkable given that most people had only owned a computer for two years.
"Watched it twice. The second time I couldn't stop looking at everyone around me thinking— are these people real. My mana felt wrong the whole way home. I don't know how to explain it."
"Everyone talks about the story but nobody is asking the real question. Arthur Pendragon was a disgraced Morningstar prince. His own kingdom laughed at him and threw him out. He shows up in Horn Kingdom with nothing and then produces the color camera, the television, the Hellphone, the computer, the internet, and the barcodes at the grocery store. We are on his internet right now. Does that not bother anyone?"
"Even the top dwarven engineers haven't come close to what Arthur has produced in just a few years. A washed-up exiled prince shouldn't be capable of any of this. Where is it coming from?"
"He left Morningstar on purpose. Needed somewhere small that nobody was watching. Horn Kingdom was perfect. Now Wales can't touch him and Morningstar acts like he's still theirs when it's convenient. He was three steps ahead before anyone noticed he was playing."
"What if the exile was his idea. What if he set the whole thing up."
"My cousin works near Victory Peak. Says Arthur doesn't sleep like a normal person. Lights on in his office at all hours for weeks straight. No demon operates like that."
"He made a film about a hidden genius controlling reality through machines he invented. Then he invented the machines. Then he built the network the machines run on. We are sitting inside something he created, talking about a film he made, about exactly this."
"Hello Arthur."
"Hello Arthur."
"If you are reading this — and you probably are, this is your internet — please tell us which pill."
"Does anyone else find it strange that the Solarus Faith went after him and then went completely silent. The most powerful religious institution in the world picked a fight with Arthur Pendragon and then said nothing afterward. What did they see?"
---
In the Wales Kingdom, things had gotten out of hand.
The government had limited The Matrix screenings — part of an ongoing tension with Hellfire over Horn Kingdom, which Wales still technically controlled. It was meant to be a quiet, routine restriction. Instead the Welsh public had decided this was completely unacceptable and took it to the streets.
"LIFT THE BAN! LIFT THE BAN!"
Crowds packed the area outside parliament. The signs ranged from sincere to unhinged.
FREE THE MATRIX. FREE OUR MINDS.
THE GOVERNMENT DOESN'T WANT YOU QUESTIONING REALITY. ASK YOURSELF WHY.
ARE YOUR MINISTERS AGENTS? THEY MOVE WEIRD.
"If they have nothing to hide then why are they hiding the one film about questioning reality?!" a protester bellowed, and the crowd erupted behind him.
"They're part of the system! Agent Smith works in parliament, I guarantee it!"
"Show us the green numbers!"
A minister who passed a window at the wrong moment found a hundred fingers pointed at him and one collective scream.
---
Inside the palace, Crown Prince Drakon sat watching the footage on his television with both hands over his face.
"Damn it," he muttered. "Every time that demon releases a movie, there is always chaos."
His hands were tied. It was the ministers and nobles who had pushed for the restrictions — Drakon was stuck navigating between them and a public now convinced his government was populated by fictional villains. There was no good move.
The door opened. Princess Rika walked in.
"Brother, can you please lift the limit already? I want to watch the movie too."
"It's not that simple—"
"Puppet Prince." She didn't even wait for the rest of the sentence. Already turning, already walking out, the door shutting behind her.
Drakon looked back at the television.
A protester's sign read: IS DRAKON AN AGENT? HE ALSO DOESN'T BLINK ENOUGH.
He shook his head slowly.
Wales wasn't alone— several other kingdoms had imposed their own restrictions or were pressuring Hellfire through other means. But under the weight of the protests, some had already quietly started lifting the limits.
Governments bending over a film. Arthur hadn't even done anything.