"The Journey to the Holy Mountain, Crystal Stone 16, Scene 83, Shot 36, First Take, Begin."
Raul, clutching Marlene, ran desperately, ahead of him, a speeding train, behind him, an endless wave of zombies.
Before he could stumble, he pushed his daughter and the half-orc widow onto the train, climbing aboard just in time.
But the frenzied zombies grabbed onto the train's railing—one, two, countless limbs piled up together, weaving into a writhing blanket of zombie bodies trailing behind the train.
Raul squeezed out the last of his strength, stomping on the zombies' hands that clung tightly to him.
The moment the hands released, the zombies, dragged by inertia, tumbled and squeezed together, blending into a putrid mass of decaying flesh.
"Cut!"
When Aisha called out, the orc crew members quickly rushed in to separate the entangled actors.
This was the final scene of The Journey to the Holy Mountain—the most dangerous one.
A large number of actors had stacked together, being dragged by the train, and safety was a serious concern.
While shields could help with the friction between the actors and the ground, the risk of suffocation due to the crowding was still present.
On Earth, this kind of scene would use dummies placed in between actors, with the problematic parts edited out in post-production.
This, however, was a blind spot for illusionists. They could add things, but not hide existing ones.
Illusionists generally cast spells directly on the target's senses to make things invisible, but in filming, you couldn't use illusion magic on the audience through a magic crystal.
In the end, they had to rely on many drow warriors. With their robust constitutions, they were more than capable of handling the pressure.
Fortunately, the crew members didn't mind working with the drow. The mixed-species Beast Horde was already a chaotic mix of races, and the zombie actors had long been used to being rejected.
During the shoot, the zombie actors were in front, and the drow actors ran behind, out of view, adding to the scene. The cameras focused on their hands when grabbing the train, and the drow used their abilities to rush to the front and prop up the actors. Afterward, the actors were positioned on top.
Though it sounded absurd, the whole process went surprisingly smoothly—credit to the well-trained drow.
After carefully reviewing the footage, Drogo signaled that there were no issues.
"The Journey to the Holy Mountain has been completed. Thank you all for your hard work."
"Oh!"
"Awesome!"
"Outshines the city's theaters!"
Applause and cheers erupted.
Raul, unable to hide his excitement, was in his thirties, and this was finally his first project.
Unlike the mixed-species Beast Horde, whose members were still celebrating, the people from the refugee zones had returned to their somber, vacant expressions. Their earlier manic energy from playing zombies had completely dissipated.
They knew it was time to go back. Unlike the hopeful actors, they had just taken a job to leave more for their families—nothing more.
No one would care about them. Their only future was quietly waiting for death in forgotten corners.
Drogo noticed their melancholy.
Out of curiosity, he had asked these people when the so-called Steam Curse had first appeared. They only mentioned it as a disaster brought by the steam engine.
This claim, of course, came from the Church.
It reeked of conspiracy.
It wasn't that Drogo had a bias against the Church.
Okay, he did have a bias against the Church—a group of religious zealots, what kind of legitimate work could they do?
The so-called Steam Curse was full of holes.
Why were only those in long-term contact with steam engines affected? By logic, steam engines shouldn't cause such issues.
Even if the technology in this world was different, and the machines were faulty, those factory owners, who frequently worked with steam engines, appeared unaffected.
Moreover, the Church claimed that the curse was contagious, but no new cases had appeared on the island, which aligned with Yuno's statement.
However, in the city, one person's illness seemed to lead to many others.
"104 on the Sin List," Drogo decided to investigate further.
Part of the reason was sympathy for the actors he'd worked with over the past few days. But mostly, if the Church did manage to eliminate steam engines, a lot of things Drogo planned on creating would become impossible.
"I need the times and locations of the recent Steam Curse outbreaks, along with information on the nobles and merchants in those areas. Also, get the best doctor in the city to see if a cure is possible."
Data never lies—it could always reveal traces of hidden information.
After giving out the tasks, Drogo returned to his temporary room on the island. The magic crystal footage had already been delivered.
He planned to cut a rough version of the footage and check the effects.
If his past job as a game designer had any relevance to his current role as an editor, it was that both professions involved a lot of late-night work.
By morning, Drogo had finished editing the roughly three-hour-long rough cut.
It was still missing many things—such as the soundtrack, some sound effects, and shot transitions—but it was ready to be shown to the team.
The next day, Drogo, Aisha, Fulin, and Yuno crowded into a small room, staring intently at the screen.
"Ah!" Aisha screamed.
Yuno reluctantly pulled out a silver coin and handed it to Drogo.
The wager was made before they started the screening—if Aisha screamed, Yuno would lose a silver coin. If Drogo wasn't scared throughout, Yuno would lose a gold coin.
At this point, it had turned into Yuno's salary retrieval plan.
By the halfway point, Aisha had screamed thirteen times.
She hadn't expected it. Despite being the "director" during filming, she had been there throughout, and everything had seemed less frightening on set. Who knew the footage would turn out so terrifying?
"Do people really pay to watch this kind of thing?" she wondered. "What's the difference between paying for this and paying to suffer?"
But unbeknownst to Aisha, while she covered her eyes, she peeked through the gaps in her fingers, trembling and watching more. The more she watched, the more hooked she became—classic case of being afraid but craving more.
By the end of the film, she wasn't covering her eyes because she was too scared to watch, but because she couldn't stop the overwhelming tears.
"Why didn't you give them a happy ending…" she muttered.
This was after watching the film repeatedly, so she couldn't imagine how she would react the first time.
Even Fulin, who had seen so many deaths and farewells, gently wiped away a tear.
"If there's ever another opportunity to film a magical shadow like this, I'm ready to join."
"Deal," Drogo said, glad to take on volunteers.
The story itself wasn't particularly new. It just took many familiar tragic elements and gave them a fresh setting. What mattered was the pacing.
Just like how a joke could either be awkward or hilarious depending on the delivery, pauses, and emphasis.
"Have you decided where to screen it?"
"Not one place, but every place."
"They don't get along, and they won't show the same film in the same theater," Fulin pointed out, familiar with the drama world. "It's all about the image, the dignity—idealists are always thinking about that."
"It doesn't matter. They'll agree," Drogo said confidently. He was ready to make a splash.