First Follower

(3rd Person POV)

Dragon Ball's overwhelming success in both manga and anime had unlocked new possibilities, including Arthur's access to internet technologies from the DB.

The private dining room at the top of Hellscape Center provided perfect cover for Arthur's meeting with the newly elected Prime Minister. Rich mahogany panels lined the walls, while enchanted crystals cast warm light across the pristine tablecloth. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Horn Kingdom's capital sparkled below.

Valerie tried to follow Arthur's explanation about interconnected communication technology, her brow furrowing slightly. "A technology to connect people... It's certainly ambitious," she nodded, clearly lost but maintaining her composure. "While I don't fully grasp the specifics, the Economic Prosperity Alliance will support any initiative that could boost our kingdom's economy."

Arthur smiled at her confusion. "Trust me, this will revolutionize how our kingdom communicates. The dwarven nations will be green with envy."

Valerie laughed, clearly thinking he was exaggerating. After all, the dwarves' underground capitals housed technological marvels that even the mightiest human nations couldn't match. "I look forward to being proven wrong," she said diplomatically. "Once the power transition is complete, you'll have our party's full support."

Arthur reached to shake her hand, but Valerie's expression suddenly turned grave.

"Before you go, Mr. Pendragon, I have a request." Her fingers tightened around her wine glass.

Arthur's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

Valerie leaned forward, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "I've been receiving death threats."

Though surprised, Arthur maintained his composure. "When did they start?"

"Right after the election results."

Arthur nodded, his mind already turning to the Hellsing organization he'd established for precisely such situations. "Don't worry," he assured her, his voice carrying quiet confidence. "I'll ensure your safety."

***

(Sylwen POV)

After months in Arthur's Hellsing Organization, I'd begun to wonder if I was its only member. Strange, for what was supposed to be an elite group.

The afternoon sun streamed through tall windows in Arthur's study, dust motes dancing in the golden beams. Ancient tomes lined mahogany shelves while magical artifacts gleamed in glass cases. Arthur sat behind his massive desk, looking up from his papers as I entered.

"You're here," he greeted with a nod.

"I heard there's an important mission?"

"Urgent." He tapped a paper showing Valerie's photo among other candidates. "These politicians I backed just won the election. Now they're receiving death threats. I need you to protect her." He slid an address across the polished desk. "Guard her from this location. Discretely."

I nodded, but remained standing. Arthur tilted his head. "Something else?"

"Well..." I shifted slightly. "I've been wondering for months now... Where are the other members? My seniors? Why haven't I seen anyone else from the organization?"

A smile played across Arthur's lips. "Actually, you'll meet three of our most powerful senior members at that address."

My heart jumped. "Really?"

"I have no reason to lie to you," he replied, still smiling.

I hurried from his office, anticipation building as I followed the address to an apartment complex where Valerie's party members lived.

On a nearby rooftop, three figures waited, each wearing plain white masks that somehow seemed more unnerving than elaborate ones would have been.

Landing on the roof, I instinctively reached out with my magical senses - and stumbled backward. The sheer power radiating from them hit me like a physical force.

"Now, now, young lady," one chuckled, his deep voice resonating with authority. "Probing your seniors upon first meeting? Rather impolite, wouldn't you say?"

The other two joined in his laughter.

"My deepest apologies, seniors!" I bowed quickly, feeling like a scolded apprentice.

The masked figures' laughter subsided as the middle one spoke with authority. "Let's focus on our task. The elected officials must be protected at all costs. This mission cannot fail."

"Relax, old man," the second figure rolled his shoulders. "Anyone trying to get near our targets will have to go through me first."

"Watch that pride, Number 2," the third figure warned sharply. "Failure here compromises everything our organization stands for!"

Their serious tone infected me with fresh determination. Whatever was at stake clearly went beyond simple protection duty.

***

(3rd Person POV)

What Sylwen couldn't know was that her "senior members" were actually Arthur's clones, each containing an astronomical three million units of magical mana - far surpassing Arthur's own reserves of two hundred thousand.

Creating such powerful clones required a massive reservoir of power. Using the Devourer Ring's absorption abilities combined with the {Bracelet of Lifeblood Veins'} transportation power, Arthur had embarked on a world-spanning hunt for magical energy.

His search led him to the Glacia Expanse, where the Devourer Ring gorged itself on the thick magical mana saturating the frozen wasteland. Behind its massive ice walls stood the mysterious "Anus Gate," a portal to the Netherworld itself.

But Arthur knew better than to test those waters yet. The gate's mysteries would have to wait until he grew stronger. With the bracelet's three-travel limit and the complicated nature of its transportation - requiring a three-second passage through the ethereal Lifeblood Veins to reach destinations - he couldn't risk encountering Netherworld entities that could kill him in that brief vulnerable window.

Even those three seconds felt like an eternity when dealing with unknown threats. Arthur had survived too much to gamble his life on unexplored realms.

***

(3rd Person POV)

Angel Theatre's velvet seats and gilded walls sparkled under crystal chandeliers as John Joseph Nicholson fidgeted in his front-row seat, just behind the film's stars. The theatre's grandeur only emphasized how out of place he felt.

His heart raced with anticipation. Finally, after years of struggle, he'd landed a role alongside superstar Lewis Light. Even if it was just a few seconds, it was his chance.

But as the film rolled on, scene after scene passed without his appearance. When the credits rolled, his name wasn't even listed.

Fury and humiliation churning inside him, he confronted the director outside. The man barely looked at him as he delivered the crushing news: "Sorry, your scene just didn't make it to the final cut."

The walk home felt endless. John's feet dragged across cracked sidewalks until he reached his cramped apartment. The single room barely fit his thin mattress laid directly on the stained floorboards.

His walls told the story of his dreams - carefully preserved posters of "Harry Potter," "Lord of the Rings," and "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly" covered the peeling wallpaper. At their center hung a grainy newspaper photo of Arthur Pendragon, carefully cut out and preserved despite its yellowing edges.

John collapsed onto his mattress, eyes fixed on Arthur's image. Two years ago, Arthur had been nothing - a disgraced prince, a family outcast. Now his face graced magazine covers.

Reaching for his dog-eared copy of Forbes with Arthur on the cover, John traced the story he'd memorized about belief and perseverance. The parallels drew him in - he too was an outsider, fighting for his chance.

But tonight, after years of failed auditions and now this cut scene, hope felt distant. His prayers to the Sun God, Moon God, even the Forgefather echoed unanswered.

His reflection in the cracked mirror reminded him why - his "below average" looks that made directors look away, his ordinary features that couldn't compete with classical beauty.

The entertainment industry had no place for someone who looked like him, no matter how much he dreamed.

John's eyes welled up as he stared at Arthur's grainy photo, a desperate thought crossing his mind. He immediately tried dismissing it - praying to Arthur? Ridiculous.

John shook his head at the absurd thought of praying to Arthur. The springs creaked beneath him as he settled onto the worn mattress, its familiar musty scent filling his nostrils. Despite the summer heat seeping through his cracked window, exhaustion quickly pulled him under.

The next morning, harsh sunlight stabbed through his eyelids as a cacophony of city sounds filtered in - distant car horns, pigeons cooing on his windowsill, and the rhythmic thump-thump of his upstairs neighbor's morning routine.

Then came the dreaded sound:

Bang! Bang!

"When are you paying your rent, John? It's been weeks!" his landlord's voice boomed through the thin door.

"Please, just more time," John called back, his voice cracking. "I'll pay soon."

"You better! Last warning, John!" Heavy footsteps retreated down the hallway.

Looking back at Arthur's photo, John felt his last shred of dignity crumble. 'If the gods won't listen, maybe... maybe he will.' Dropping to his knees, John hesitated, then began.

"Oh, Arthur Pendragon..." he stopped, searching for the right words. "Lord of Entertainment! If you can hear me... please, I'm begging you. Let me be part of your films. I don't need to be a star, I don't need fame - I just want to act. I'll take any role, no matter how small. I just... I just want a chance to prove myself. Please... please hear me..."

***

In Horn Kingdom, Arthur sprawled across his massive four-poster bed, silk sheets tangled around him. Moonlight filtered through enchanted curtains, casting soft shadows across his peaceful face as he dreamed of ruling from a mighty throne.

Then an unfamiliar voice pierced his dreams, desperate and raw, begging for a chance.

"Shut up..." Arthur mumbled, trying to cling to sleep. But the voice grew clearer, more insistent.

He jolted awake, scanning his moonlit chamber. "Who's there?"

His magic and ki probed the room, finding nothing, yet the voice continued echoing in his mind.

"What the hell?" he muttered, growing confused.

Then a system notification chimed: [You gained 10+ divine points!]