CRACK!
The sound of a magic staff breaking echoed through the air.
Ashur's keen senses picked it up immediately.
'What the hell was that?'
However, this strange noise was quickly drowned out by the thunderous applause from the audience.
It wasn't clear who started clapping first—maybe it was a god, or perhaps a mortal—but for the first two seconds, only scattered claps echoed through the hall. By the third second, the applause grew louder, and by the fifth second, the entire venue erupted with the sound of roaring applause.
Unbelievable, astonishing, and beyond words.
The only way they could express their awe at what they had just experienced was through this intense round of applause.
Among the audience, one god in particular was reveling in this symphony of thunderous sound. It was the God of Thunderous Roars, whose worship in the Gray World was more of a secondary faith.
His form was that of a tall, muscular figure clad in a golden suit with a red cloak draped over his shoulders.
"Thunderous roars" didn't just refer to natural sounds like thunder, storms, or the crashing waves of a tsunami, but also to the rumble of machinery, the piercing cries of wild beasts, and even the loud outbursts of frustrated mortals. It included the resonating echoes of heart and mind, any powerful sound that shook the soul. These were all within the God of Thunderous Roars' domain, deeply connected to sound and inner voices.
And this art of cinema contained everything he needed to fill him with awe.
This was exactly the thunderous value he sought.
Yet, as much as he was taken by this art form, there was a part of him that felt a sense of regret. Not regret toward Ashur—after all, the two gods had never crossed paths, and there was no conflict of divine rights or interests between them.
No, his regret stemmed from the thought that if the creator of this art had been a mere mortal instead of a god, he would have surely raised that person to sainthood in his own church.
The God of Thunderous Roars wasn't alone in his thoughts. In fact, all the gods present had their curiosity intensely piqued, for they understood the immense potential this fusion of cinema and online promotion could bring.
All the gods needed to do was submit stories, and the God of Fiction would help turn them into films, broadcasting them to multiple worlds simultaneously through online campaigns. There would certainly be those intrigued by the stories, and their curiosity would lead them to watch. And because these films would be shown across several worlds, the faith and value harvested from them would multiply exponentially.
The best part? Mortals wouldn't even have to pay a steep price.
For example, a tragic film could evoke immense sorrow, pouring waves of faith into the God of Pain, enough to leave him bloated and overwhelmed.
Most importantly, as the God of Death knew all too well, anything fictional that was created by the God of Fiction would hold real value.
Moreover, games and films were complementary—they would give rise to new forms of literature, music, and sculpture. While positive emotions like joy might be useless to the gods, in both films and games, positive and negative emotions coexisted.
Defeating the final boss brought joy, but the process of battling that boss was pure agony.
Before beating the game: "This game is garbage."
After beating it: "Thank you for creating such a masterpiece."
The reaction to the event was beyond expectations—even the gods rejoiced at the dawn of the Age of Fantasy to come.
The connection between worlds would deepen in ways previously unimaginable, and the flow of faith would no longer trickle like a stream but surge like a mighty river.
Let's just hope your download speed doesn't get capped at 100KB.
Among the gods, the God of Death crossed his arms over his chest.
'This means that the hierarchy of major and minor faiths across the worlds could completely shift because of a single product. But these gods are more than happy to see this happen. They all crave faith, to extract fear and value from mortals. From the start of this era, the way faith is spread has constantly evolved, and the function of the churches has shifted along with it.'
Ashur spread his arms wide, his sketch-like figure humorously ballooning in size. The colorful jellybeans floating around him, combined with the flashing lights, gave the venue a surreal, dreamlike atmosphere.
"Imagination is the source of all creation, yet imagination cannot arise from nothing. It comes from mortals' understanding of their surroundings. Mortals can't imagine things they've never seen—and neither can gods."
"Knowledge is finite, but imagination is infinite. To create more fantasies, we need more interaction, we need to bring worlds closer together until mortals can experience multiple realms without ever leaving their homes."
"Fiction is imagination. The value that gods need comes from the activities of mortal life. As mortals' imaginations grow, the breadth of value the gods can draw from them will expand, and their divine domains will grow even more powerful."
"In the past, machinery was no more than stone tools, death was simply leaving bodies to rot in the wild, pain came from mere physical wounds, and light and heat were but the flickering flames of a campfire."
"In those times, mortals' understanding of the world was limited, their emotions lacked depth, and their creativity was barren. The value gods could extract from them was equally scarce."
"Even today, some primitive worlds still exist, and the gods rarely cast their gaze upon them because the minds of those mortals are too narrow, their creativity too weak."
"Rejoice, my fellow gods. The most glorious era is about to dawn—an era that embodies all the power of imagination, transcending time and space, knowing the past and future. It is the era of the Connector of Worlds."
The applause returned for a second time. Compared to the thunderous first round, this time it was deeper, more deliberate, filled with warmth and joy.
People could already see the future unfolding before them, a new god destined to rule it, toppling the tired remnants of the old age.
"Now, let's proceed to the final stage of this promotional event."
"To better connect the worlds and usher in this new era, I will create a temporary interactive tool modeled after this fictional space. This tool will allow everyone to communicate with one another, anytime, anywhere, without being limited by distance."
"It surpasses magical messaging. Even the most elegant typewriter pales in comparison—it will rust away, buried in the ground in shame."
A spotlight suddenly shone on the far end of the audience, revealing a man in a trench coat—Fet, who had been standing quietly in the back.
Ashur glanced at Maya, who raised her hand, holding up a ring that resembled a simple ornament. She traced several intricate runes into the air with it, and then, before everyone's eyes…
A gray-white window interface appeared before her, empty and waiting.