Cartoons

(Arthur POV)

The TV screen blazed with footage of our burning Angel City branch, reporters swarming like vultures around the scene.

As I watched, rage bubbled through my veins. My eyes burned hot, and suddenly my vision sharpened to crystal clarity. Every detail on the screen stood out with uncanny precision, my senses heightening to an almost painful degree. The sensation passed quickly, leaving me puzzled but too angry to dwell on it.

"What led to today's events?" A reporter thrust her microphone at our USE president, Marcus. His usual sleek feline appearance was gone, replaced by a disheveled figure with singed suit and soot-stained fur.

His eyes glistened as he fought to maintain composure. "This... this is just a misunderstanding between demons and humans! We can resolve this!" His voice cracked with exhaustion.

Sigh

I clicked off the TV, disgust rising in my throat.

"And here I thought Empiricans in this world had more sense than my previous life." I shook my head, bitter disappointment settling in my chest. The way Walter Mouse had manipulated them so easily, turning 'anime' into some kind of cultural battleground - it was both pathetic and infuriating.

They'd actually resorted to arson against my company!

Though something felt off - perhaps this fire wasn't just angry protesters. Someone might be pulling strings behind the scenes. But regardless of who lit the match, the damage was done.

My fingers drummed against the desk as I plotted my response. No, I wouldn't go flying off to Empirica to pummel Walter Mouse and his mob like I did with Caleb. This required a more... elegant revenge.

I'd crush Mouse Entertainment the same way I'd built my empire - through pure entertainment dominance. Walter Mouse wanted to cry about demons 'stealing' animation? Fine.

I'd flood Empirica with their precious "cartoons" first - the ones from my previous life. Then I'd release a wave of new anime series. The contrast would be impossible to ignore. The whole world would see that "cartoon" and "anime" were distinct art forms, not some demon plot to steal human culture.

Let them learn the difference through entertainment itself.

***

In the massive warehouse, my operation hummed with focused energy. A hundred clones filled the comics and manga section, while the larger area hosted an army of 800 clones - some hunched over drawing tables with precise brush strokes, others manipulating animation frames on their computer screens.

Creating 800 clones wasn't my original plan, but Walter Mouse and those gullible Empiricans had forced my hand. Speed was now essential.

My clones worked tirelessly on cartoons that had defined entertainment in my previous life. "Bugs Bunny" with his wisecracks, the slapstick chaos of "Tom & Jerry," the spinach-powered adventures of "Popeye," and the silent comedy of "The Pink Panther Show."

The voice acting situation actually worked in our favor. These classic cartoons relied more on visual comedy and simple dialogue - perfect for a world still developing its voice talent pool.

I could handle the basic male voices: Bugs Bunny's wisecracks, Tom's occasional outbursts, Popeye's mumblings. The Pink Panther just needed some grunts and snorts - easy enough for a clone to manage.

The anime projects demanded more patience. "Pokémon," "Naruto," and "Sailor Moon" sat in various stages of development, awaiting voice actors from our recent auditions. Their complexity meant a longer production time, but that would only help highlight the distinction between mediums.

Looking over the bustling warehouse, I smiled grimly. Soon, everyone would understand the fundamental difference between cartoons and anime. Those who'd accused me of "stealing" animation were about to get an education in entertainment evolution.

"Keep the pace steady," I called out to my clones. "We're not just making shows - we're making a point."

"Oh, look who's acting all high and mighty! Why don't you pick up a pencil and help us draw?" One clone shot back, waving his pencil accusingly.

"Hey, focus on the goal here!" Another clone jumped in, adjusting his glasses. "We need to show those thick-headed Empiricans and everyone else the clear difference between anime and cartoons!"

"Why can't we just do a press conference and explain everything?" A third clone groaned, slumping over his desk. "All this drawing is killing me!"

As the debate heated up, I tried to restore order. "Come on, everyone! Give it your all, and I'll reward you with cookies!"

My clones responded with collective snorts before returning to their work, muttering under their breath.

'And this is why clone management is such a headache.' I sighed internally. Each clone developed their own personality and opinions - great for creative work, terrible for workplace harmony.

Still, I'd take the occasional attitude problem in exchange for this level of productivity.

***

(3rd Person POV)

The controversy over demons "stealing" and "rebranding" animation continued to dominate headlines. What started in human territories now spread like wildfire through elven forests and dwarven mountains.

Media outlets hounded Arthur for a response, but he remained largely silent, offering only cryptic statements: "I will address this matter in a few weeks. Patience, everyone."

His vague response sparked widespread speculation. The Evening Star ran the headline: "Arthur Pendragon Delays Response - Strategic Silence or Admission of Guilt?"

Critics seized on his apparent reluctance to speak, interpreting it as weakness. But those who knew Arthur's pattern of calculated moves wondered - what was the demon prince planning this time?

Two weeks of controversy had begun to quiet, though plenty still condemned Arthur for supposedly stealing and rebranding cartoons as anime. His continued silence only fueled his critics.

Walter Mouse and his fellow media moguls celebrated what they saw as victory, watching Hellfire Network's ratings slip with smug satisfaction.

Then came August 26, 1273 - Arthur dropped his bombshell announcement. Within a week, Hellfire Network would premiere both cartoons and anime, including a new series called "Naruto."

The announcement sparked fierce debate among industry insiders. On street corners, confused citizens voiced their doubts: "I don't understand - I thought cartoons and anime were the same thing? Why is Arthur suddenly using both terms?"

The answer came on September 1, 1273. As early morning sunlight crept over Empirica, Hellfire Network aired its first episode of "Tom & Jerry."

The screen exploded with pure cartoon chaos - a cat and mouse locked in an endless chase through a house, their bodies defying physics with every crash and tumble. Tom's expressions stretched to impossible lengths, while Jerry's clever escapes drew delighted gasps from viewers.

In his mansion's viewing room, Walter Mouse sat stiffly on his leather armchair, remote clutched tight as he watched his competitor's creation. His family gathered around, drawn by the commotion on screen.

"Dad, look! Look!" Walter Jr. doubled over laughing as Tom flattened like a pancake after another failed chase. "The cat's face!"

Walter barely heard his son's joy. His eyes were fixed on the screen, watching something that shouldn't exist - a cartoon that rivaled, maybe even surpassed, his studio's best work.

Earlier, he'd dismissed Hellfire's cartoon venture with a wave of his hand. "They'll fail," he'd told his board confidently. But now, watching his own family captivated by this...

He felt sick to his stomach. He'd been wrong. Terribly wrong.

***

September 1, 1273 carved itself into entertainment history as Hellfire Network revolutionized programming across time zones. In Empirica, the morning hours filled with cartoons, while the pre-news noon slot debuted "Naruto."

Before "Naruto" began, the network announcer made a deliberate point: "And now, Hellfire Network presents our second anime series..."

The distinction between cartoons and anime had puzzled Empiricans until that day. But as they witnessed "Naruto" following their morning of slapstick cartoons, then compared it to "Dragon Ball," the differences became stark and undeniable.

Across USE, many viewers finally understood - these weren't simply different terms for the same thing. The storytelling styles, art, and themes stood distinctly apart.

While the western continent enjoyed their morning entertainment revolution, the Anatolia region experienced the same programming as their evening schedule, thanks to the time difference. What was breakfast entertainment in Empirica became dinner viewing in the East.

This simultaneous worldwide broadcast of both cartoons and anime on September 1 marked a turning point in global entertainment.

Years later, USE would immortalize this date as "Fantastic Friday Morning" - celebrating the day cartoon chaos first brightened their mornings. Meanwhile, the East fondly remembered it as "Magical Friday Night" - when both western humor and eastern storytelling found their place in their evening hours.