(3rd Person POV)
After the casting requirement papers were handed out, the atmosphere among the hopefuls quickly split. Some faces lit up with joy—those who passed for supporting roles held onto their papers like precious treasures. A few others, though only selected as extras, accepted it with quiet pride.
"Even just being in a Hellfire film is enough," one of them said with a determined smile.
But not everyone shared that sentiment.
"Extras?" one man scoffed, crumpling his paper. "I didn't line up for hours just to be a background prop."
He stormed off, his nose flaring with frustration. Another beside him, a young adult who had only qualified as an extra, sneered in agreement. "Yeah. What kind of movie even films on an old ship instead of a high-end VFX Studio?"
One man spat on the sidewalk. "Without illusions and magic effects? This film's gonna flop. Just wait."
"I agree!"
"Arthur's losing his touch!"
Grumbling and resentment grew as a group of disappointed hopefuls walked off, tossing their papers to the wind. Their egos couldn't handle being labeled mere 'passengers'—extras meant to blend into the background of someone else's spotlight.
But while some left with curses, others stayed—with quiet resolve in their hearts and dreams still intact.
At the same time, the actors who passed the requirements were ushered into the building, papers in hand and hearts pounding with anticipation. Meanwhile, the singers were guided into separate lines, their own audition process beginning in segmented queues.
Among them stood a striking woman from Apple City, her blonde hair swaying in the wind. Her brown eyes shimmered with both hope and hesitation. She clutched her registration form tightly, eyes scanning the crowd.
Some of the singers nearby began to whisper.
"Wait… is that Cecilia? The one who placed third in Great Empirican Talent?"
"Yeah, that's her! I almost didn't recognize her… She has a stunning voice."
Cecilia heard them, but kept her gaze forward. She felt the familiar flutter of nerves rise in her chest, but her confidence held steady. She had made it far in Great Empirican Talent, the third season that aired just months ago.
Sure, the show was often mocked as a knock-off of Hellfire's Got Talent, but even so, it had given her name some weight—and now she was here, ready to risk it all again.
Besides, as Cecilia looked around, she noticed something that lifted her spirits—there were far fewer singers than actors here. Her odds, however slim, suddenly felt real.
---
Inside the Hellfire Studio building, the auditions were well underway.
Extras didn't require much; most were quickly evaluated and sent through. But for the supporting roles, the process was different. They had to perform scenes in front of assigned casting directors.
Each audition room was equipped with cameras, live-streaming the performances to a central meeting room.
Inside that room, a dozen TV monitors flickered with activity.
Arthur sat at the round table, sipping from a cold bottle of Coke—his own beverage invention that had exploded in popularity across the U.S.E. and his home kingdom alike. Firfel sat beside him, munching on a slice of pizza as her eyes darted between screens.
Arthur wasn't even looking at the monitors. His body was relaxed, but his mind was sharp—his divine senses allowed him to see everything in the building at once, scanning for potential.
Firfel, on the other hand, was fully immersed. Her eyes bounced from one screen to another, absorbing every performance.
Suddenly, one screen caught her attention.
"Wait—Arthur, that old man!" she nudged him with her elbow, pointing. "Look at him… doesn't he look exactly like the illustration you sketched for the ship's captain?"
Arthur lifted his gaze and narrowed his eyes. "Let's see if he can act like him too."
Onscreen, the old man performed calmly, his presence steady. When asked about his background by the casting staff, he replied in a firm voice, "I was once a ship captain myself. So playing a man like Edward? It's second nature."
Firfel glanced at Arthur, her expression already decided.
Arthur gave a faint nod. "We've found our Captain Edward."
And so, the auditions pressed on.
Some candidates nailed their parts, while others were quickly dismissed. As the hours passed, roles began to take shape.
There was a poised red-haired woman whose stern demeanor perfectly matched the character of Rose's mother. And then there was Dane—the wavy-haired young man still in his office attire, clearly fresh from his old job. His raw charisma and spirited delivery made him an easy pick for Fabrizio, Jack's best buddy.
Arthur watched it all unfold with quiet satisfaction. His ship was coming together—on-screen and off.
---
Time passed—and in the blink of an eye, three days had gone by since the auditions began.
Most of the major roles were already filled. However, one important role remained open: the actress for Old Rose.
Finding someone for the part wasn't easy. Specifically, Arthur was looking for an elderly elf woman—a rare demographic. Not a single one had auditioned yet. And the reason for his pick was deliberate.
In this world, Arthur had designed Titanic as a fictional story based on the real-world Titan Ship disaster from ninety years ago. But in his script, the sinking happened 300 years ago—farther in the past to match this world's lore. It allowed the story to hold an air of legend, almost like folklore passed down through generations.
And if an elf, known to live up to 300 years, were to recount the events from her youth before her passing... the emotional impact would be massive.
Just like in his previous life, where a 100-year-old woman named Rose recalled the story of the Titanic, Arthur wanted to recreate that sense of bittersweet clarity from a dying soul.
Though Arthur had struggled to find an elderly elf actress, a new lead came his way.
Sylwen had handed him a magazine from the Lunar Kingdom—one of the prominent elven realms. On its cover was a striking image: a dignified elf woman with flowing white hair, sharp eyes softened by age, and a regal air that only centuries of life could bring. The article referred to her as Lady Velmira, a 270-year-old veteran actress known for her powerful stage presence.
Arthur held the magazine, flipping it open as he muttered to himself, "Maybe it's time to invite the old lady out of retirement…"
He set the magazine aside, shifting his attention back to the monitor in front of him. It displayed the ongoing singer auditions.
"The competition between Cecilia and Esmeralda's heating up…" Arthur said under his breath, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His eyes lingered on Cecilia. "They're both talented, but Cecilia—she has the voice that can carry the emotion of that final song."
While keeping a close eye on the actors, Arthur was also monitoring the progress of the singers. So far, only two had truly caught his attention—Cecilia and Esmeralda.
Esmeralda had talent, no doubt. He even considered giving her a secondary song in the film—something fitting for the atmosphere, aside from the main theme. But ultimately, his instincts leaned toward Cecilia for the most important piece.
He exhaled, shaking his head, then shifted his focus once more. While the auditions were underway, the construction crew continued preparing the movie's grand set.
A separate, dilapidated version of the Grand Whale was being built—a faithful recreation of the ship in decay. This aged replica would rest at the bottom of the ocean, serving as the haunting backdrop during Old Rose's recollection of her love story.
And as for the robots and submarines used by the marine treasure hunters in the opening scene? This world had its own version—deep-sea scavengers equipped with cutting-edge tech forged by dwarves. These marine experts had advanced devices capable of descending into the ocean's depths, thanks to years of innovation—and recent boosts from Arthur himself.
After Arthur introduced the television, color camera, and computers to the world, technology among scavengers and even pirates surged forward. Their ships were now equipped with bubble magic-wrapped cameras, deep-sea monitors, and onboard TVs. Computers, though still in limited circulation, had begun integrating into their systems.
Arthur had already partnered with a prominent dwarven engineering guild, known for building exploration ships and submersibles. Their job was to outfit a vessel with these upgrades—not for real scavenging, but solely to capture the illusion of it on film.
For most of the audience, the marine operation scenes will simply feel immersive—they won't know the details, and they won't need to. But for those who do understand how marine salvage works, they'll be amazed by the level of technology depicted.
In a way, it also serves as a subtle advertisement—a half-intentional promotion of the cutting-edge equipment used in deep-sea exploration.