(3rd POV)
Matrix wrapped without a hitch.
Post-production was next — and this was where things got interesting.
Ever since becoming the God of Inventions, Arthur had been experimenting. Quietly, obsessively, the way he got whenever something new clicked in his head. His clone handled all the directing duties on set. The real Arthur was off doing something far more useful.
The result sat on his desk now. Compact, unassuming. Nothing about it screamed "divine superweapon." But the thing ran on pure Miracles and operated at a speed that would've made the best GPU from his previous life look like a calculator. He'd even stuffed a consciousness inside it — a full AI, capable of independent thought and task execution. He called it S-C. Super-Computer. Keep it simple.
He gave it the raw Matrix footage and walked away.
Two days later, a notification surfaced in his head.
[Editing of The Matrix Film Is Complete]
Arthur stared at the wall for a moment.
'Two days. The whole damn thing.'
He sat there quietly, just kind of absorbing that. Then a slow grin spread across his face. Yeah. Being the God of Inventions was going to be fun.
---
Naturally, he had to show it off.
"My head is spinning," Keanu said, staring at S-C like it had done something to personally offend him. "What does it even do and why should I care?"
Kaiser looked equally lost, though he was at least rubbing his chin like he was following along.
Country bumpkins. Both of them.
Arthur walked them through it from the top — the processing speed, the AI consciousness, the Miracle-powered architecture. As a simple demonstration of scale, he mentioned that S-C had simulated a fully detailed small galaxy and run it for three minutes before draining its reserves.
Silence.
"You're saying you built this," Kaiser said slowly, "in a few weeks."
"While my clone was on set directing." Arthur leaned back, not even trying to hide the pride in his voice. "I'm honestly starting to think I can build anything with this domain. Any divine technology, given enough time."
Keanu and Kaiser stared at him.
Not impressed stares. More like the kind of stare you give something you're not sure is natural.
They'd known about the God of Inventions title for a while. What they clearly hadn't accounted for was what Arthur would actually do with it.
"Okay but—" Keanu frowned. "You just got this title. You didn't spend centuries building believers. So where's all the Faith Energy coming from?"
"Other worlds." Arthur said it casually. "Different planets, different galaxies. Places I've never visited, never preached in. The Faith just comes."
Kaiser's eyes sharpened. "How many worlds?"
"Honestly? No idea."
"That's not how it works." Kaiser sat forward. "Faith follows the local deity of a domain. If those worlds already have their own Gods of Invention, the Faith goes to them. It doesn't reroute to you just because you picked up the title here."
Keanu's eyes narrowed slowly. "...Unless it's not going to them anymore."
The three of them went quiet.
Then Kaiser pointed at Arthur. Accusatory. Almost betrayed.
"You son of a bitch."
"I didn't do anything—"
"You're siphoning them. Every minor God of Invention across who knows how many worlds, and you're just quietly draining their Faith!" Kaiser's voice cracked with something between outrage and reluctant awe. "This is exactly what you did to me! You stumble into a domain and everyone in it just starts hemorrhaging Faith to you!"
Arthur opened his mouth. Then closed it. He genuinely hadn't thought about it from that angle.
He'd assumed it was just the system doing its thing — new title, new income, normal divine business. But now that Kaiser was saying it out loud...
"So you're telling me I'm basically a thief," Arthur said.
"YES." Kaiser pointed directly at his face. "A Faith thief! Just like with me, you are sitting here getting fat off the offerings of countless gods who have no idea what's happening to them!"
"Are you actually a God of Thieves?" Keanu asked. Completely serious.
Arthur reached over and slapped the back of his head without thinking. Keanu's head popped clean off, drifted forward, then lazily floated back and reattached at the neck like it was no big deal.
Keanu blinked.
Arthur stared at him. This guy had gotten way too goofy since Matrix wrapped. All those simulation scenes must've loosened something in his head.
"Forget the jokes," Arthur said. "Why is this actually happening? There has to be a real reason I'm pulling Faith from worlds I've never touched."
Kaiser thought about it properly this time, chin in hand. "...There's one explanation that actually fits. You didn't just receive the God of Inventions title. You took the Seat. The Head Authority. The prime position in the entire Invention domain." He looked at Arthur. "Every other God of Invention in existence is subordinate to you. Their domains are just subdivisions. You're not stealing their Faith — you're collecting a tax. Like an emperor drawing tribute from his kings."
Arthur's brain hurt.
He was not built for divine bureaucracy. He never would be.
"So I'm the boss of the other mini-bosses," he said flatly.
"King of Kings of Inventions, technically." Kaiser paused. "Although the Head Seat is supposed to reside in the Divine World. For you to be holding it from down here is... unusual, to put it mildly."
Arthur was already done thinking about it. "Doesn't matter."
Kaiser blinked. "It doesn't?"
"I'm the Head. Faith is coming in. S-C exists." Arthur gestured at the machine. "Whatever political mess is waiting for me in the Divine World, I'll deal with it when it becomes my problem."
Kaiser looked like he wanted to argue. Then he glanced at S-C again, remembered the galaxy simulation, and slowly closed his mouth.
"...Fair enough," he muttered.
---
Arthur gathered the cast and crew the next morning.
"The editing's done," he announced. "Private screening tonight. All of you are invited."
Dead silence.
Then someone in the back said, carefully, "...Boss, it's been two days."
"I know."
"Editing usually takes months. Weeks at the absolute fastest."
"I know."
"So how is it—"
"Does it matter?" Arthur looked at whoever was speaking. "The movie's done. We get to watch it early. That's a good thing. Any more questions?"
Nobody had any more questions.
---
Over at the Hellfire editing department, the mood had been electric all week.
The editors had been ready. More than ready. They'd spent months learning the new technologies Arthur had introduced — 3D animation, CGI, the whole pipeline. They'd cut their teeth on the game projects, sure, but a film was different. A film was the real test. And The Matrix, from what they'd heard about the production, was going to be something else entirely.
The wolf demon at workstation three had been at the office since six in the morning. He'd reorganized his software twice. He had reference files open, shortcuts memorized, a thermos of coffee that had long gone cold because he kept forgetting to drink it.
He was ready.
The department director, a stocky monkey demon with reading glasses perpetually pushed up on his forehead, walked in and cleared his throat.
The wolf demon spun around in his chair. "Director! When's the Matrix footage coming in? Because I have been practicing my 3D workflow and I am telling you right now, I am not the same man I was three months ago—"
"It's already done," the director said.
The wolf demon's ears twitched. "What's already done?"
"The Matrix. Fully edited. Complete."
The room went still.
Then it erupted.
"What the hell does that mean!?"
"I've been practicing every single night! I haven't slept properly in two weeks!"
"Does it even have CGI in it? Why didn't it need us?"
"How? The shoot only wrapped two days ago! Two days!"
The director held up a hand and waited for the noise to die down. "It has CGI. It has 3D. It has everything. Nothing is missing. It just... didn't need us to do it." He paused, clearly not entirely comfortable with how that sentence sounded. "Boss Arthur's handling it. So for now, go back to the game projects. Keep supporting the game department."
The room deflated like a punctured balloon.
The wolf demon stared at his meticulously organized workstation. His custom animation shortcuts. His color-coded project folders.
He had no idea that somewhere across the building, a compact machine running on divine Miracles had done in forty-eight hours what his entire department had spent months preparing for.
S-C didn't know their names. Didn't know how hard they'd trained. Didn't particularly care.
It had just done its job.