Filming Wrapped

"Holy Mountain Journey, Crystal 16, Scene 83, Shot 36, Take 1, action."

Raul clutched Marlin as he ran for all he was worth. Ahead, the train was accelerating; behind him surged an uncountable tide of corpses.

Before he could nearly fall, he sent his daughter and the half-orc's widow onto the train, then climbed aboard himself.

But the frenzied zombies seized the train's railings. One, two, countless limbs piled atop one another, weaving into a carpet of zombie flesh that writhed as it was dragged behind the train.

Raul squeezed out the last of his strength, stomping on the hands clutching the zombies' grips.

The instant the hands let go, hordes of zombies rolled, crushed, and tangled together from the momentum, blending into a rotting, decaying roll of flesh.

"Cut!"

The moment Aisha called for a stop, the already-prepared orc team rushed in and separated the piled-up actors one by one.

This was the final scene filmed for Holy Mountain Journey, and also the most dangerous one.

A large number of actors had to stack themselves together and be dragged by the train. Their safety was difficult to guarantee.

Shields could solve the problem of friction against the ground, but people pressing against one another could still suffocate.

On Earth, they would use a large number of mannequins placed among the crowd, then remove the exposed flaws in post-production.

But that ran into a blind spot of illusion magic. It could add things, but it could not hide things that already existed.

When illusionists wanted people not to see an object, they generally cast spells directly on the target's senses. But when filming a magic picture, they could not cast illusions on the audience through the magic crystals.

In the end, they had brought in plenty of drow warriors. With constitutions starting at ten points, they were completely unafraid of being crushed.

Fortunately, the crew had no resistance to working with drow. The Mixed Beast Troupe was already a racial hodgepodge, while the zombie actors themselves were people who had long been rejected by others.

During filming, the zombie actors ran in front while the drow actors ran behind without showing their faces, merely making up the numbers. When they grabbed the train, the camera filmed close-ups of their hands. The drow used their skills to rush ahead and cushion the bottom, while the other actors simply piled on top afterward.

It sounded pretty absurd, but the entire process went unexpectedly smoothly. The drow truly were well trained.

After carefully inspecting the footage, Drogo signaled to Aisha that there was no problem.

"The filming of Holy Mountain Journey is now completely finished. Thank you all for your dedication."

"Woo!"

"Wonderful!"

"Let's put the city's theaters to shame!"

Applause and cheers rose one after another.

Raul could barely contain his excitement. At over thirty years old, he finally had his first work of his own.

Unlike the exhilarated Mixed Beast Troupe, those from the refugee settlement returned to their dull, wooden state. There was no trace of the mania they had shown while playing zombies.

They knew it was time to go back. Unlike those actors whose futures brimmed with hope, they had merely taken a job to leave their families a little more inheritance. That was all.

No one would care about them. Their only ending would be to quietly wait for death in some forgotten corner.

Drogo noticed their despondency.

Out of curiosity, he had asked them when the so-called Steam Curse had appeared. They only said it was a calamity brought by steam engines.

As for where that claim had originated, naturally, it was the church.

It practically reeked of conspiracy.

It was not that he was prejudiced against the church.

Well.

He was prejudiced against the church. What proper thing could a bunch of religious fanatics gathered together possibly do?

There were suspicious points everywhere in this so-called Steam Curse.

Why did it affect people who had long been in contact with steam engines? By all logic, steam engines should not be able to cause something like this.

Even if this world's technology tree had gone off in a strange direction and the machines really had a problem, those factory owners also had frequent contact with steam engines. Yet they looked perfectly fine.

And the church claimed that the curse was contagious, but no new cases had appeared on the island, which matched what Yuno had said.

Yet in the city, one person falling ill meant a whole group falling ill.

"Xin 104." Drogo decided to investigate the matter.

Partly, it was out of sympathy for the actors he had worked with these past few days. But mostly, if the church really got rid of steam engines, many things he needed for his plans could no longer be made.

"I need the times and locations of the most recent Steam Curse outbreaks, as well as what the nobles and major merchants in those areas were doing. Also, find the best doctor in the city and see whether there's any possibility of a cure."

Data did not lie. There would always be traces to find in changing data.

After giving his orders, Drogo returned to his temporary room on the island. The magic crystals containing the completed footage had already been delivered there.

He planned to make a rough cut of the sample first and see how it looked.

If there was any connection between his former identity as a game planner and his current role as an editor, it was that both were professions exceptionally skilled at staying up late.

After working through the entire night, Drogo finished editing the roughly three-hour sample.

Although it still lacked many things—such as music, sound effects that needed to be added, shot transitions, and the removal of redundant content—it was already ready to show to his own people.

The next day, Drogo, Aisha, Flynn, and Yuno squeezed into the small room, staring unblinkingly at the image on the wall.

"Ah!" Aisha screamed.

Yuno reluctantly took out a silver coin and handed it to Drogo.

Before the sample began, the man and dragon had made a bet: every time Aisha screamed, Yuno would lose one silver coin. If Drogo made it through the entire film without being frightened, he would lose one gold coin.

It had now developed into Yuno's salary reclamation plan.

By the halfway point of the sample, Aisha had screamed thirteen times.

Even she had not expected it. Though she had been present throughout the shoot as the nominal "director," it had not looked that frightening on set. Who would have thought the footage recorded by the camera would be so terrifying?

Would anyone really pay to watch something like this? How was that any different from paying to suffer?

Yet Aisha herself had not noticed that although she covered her eyes with both hands in fear, she left a narrow gap between her fingers. Trembling, she watched through it, becoming more engrossed the longer she watched—a classic case of being terrified yet hopelessly addicted.

By the time the film ended, she was no longer covering her eyes because she did not dare look. It was because the surging tears simply would not stop.

"Why didn't you give them a happy ending...?"

And this was after she had read the script over and over again. Drogo was very curious how badly she would cry if it were her first time seeing it.

Even Flynn, who had witnessed far too many partings in life and death, gently wiped at the corner of her eye.

"If there's another chance to film a magic picture like this in the future, I can join anytime."

"It's a deal." Drogo could not have wished for anything more than an employee volunteering for work.

In truth, this story was not particularly original. It merely gave many common tragic plotlines a new setting. The key lay in its excellent pacing.

Like the same joke, which could produce either awkward silence or uproarious laughter depending on the tone, pauses, and emphasis.

"Have you decided which theater will screen it?"

"Not which theater. Every theater."

"Their relationships aren't very good. For the sake of pride, they won't screen the same work." Flynn was very familiar with the theater circle. They were a group of idealists forever thinking about reputation and dignity.

"It's fine. They'll agree." Drogo's tone brimmed with confidence. He was ready to cause a sensation.