In the exclusive heights of Victory Peak, where villas lined the cliffs like jeweled crowns, status wasn’t just a matter of wealth — it was an architecture of ego. Millionaires lived here. A few billionaires, too.
But tucked away from the polished mansions and guarded gates, there was one unassuming cave. It looked like a forgotten crevice in the mountain — the kind tourists might walk past without a second glance.
Yet inside, it was anything but ordinary.
The cave was outfitted with glowing panels, custom-built machinery, towering workbenches, and in the center — a sleek black car that looked suspiciously heroic, with armor plates and fins. At its side stood a stocky dwarf with wild orange hair, goggles pushed up on his forehead.
He stroked his chin, examining the vehicle with a proud glint in his eye. "Okay, maybe it’s not as advanced as Batman’s... but she’s got flair." A mischievous grin formed. "And a few surprises under the hood."
George had money, brains, and obsession — and all three were poured into this little tribute. A die-hard fan of the Batman comics Arthur once showed him, George didn’t just build a cave.
He lived it. For more chapters visit novel·fire.net
Just then, footsteps echoed. A butler entered the cave, his formal shoes oddly pristine despite the metal flooring. "Master George—"
"I’m Bruce when I’m down here, remember?" George said, tilting his head dramatically.
The butler coughed, adjusting his tie. "Right. Master Bruce. Forgive me."
"Master Arthur is here. He’s waiting for you in the living room."
George froze. His eyes widened behind his goggles. "Arthur? Really? After all this time, he remembers I exist?" His voice cracked in mock betrayal. "I was beginning to think he only calls when he needs something exploded."
The butler gave no reaction, but his silence said enough.
George sighed and dusted off his gloves. "Alright, alright. Let’s not keep royalty waiting."
He took a step, then paused and looked back sharply. "You didn’t tell him about this place, right?"
The butler gave a loyal smile. "As you commanded, Master Bruce. Not a soul."
George nodded, satisfied. "Good."
He turned, entered a disguised elevator panel on the far wall, and pressed a sequence of buttons. A soft mechanical hum began as the platform rose.
Moments later, the elevator opened — revealing the polished hallway of a modest villa. George stepped out and headed straight for the living room, already preparing his dramatic entrance.
He adjusted himself—removed his goggles, ran his fingers through his messy hair, and brushed his beard down. Then, standing before the magical artifact known as the «Wardrove Mirror», he activated it with a touch of mana. In an instant, his soot-covered mechanic’s outfit was replaced by a clean, semi-formal set of clothes.
This particular mirror didn’t just reflect—it transformed. It could store multiple outfits, and with a minor magical trigger, it would swap the user’s clothes instantly.
"Ugh, I still stink," George muttered. He grabbed another artifact nearby, a cleansing stone that emitted a faint glow. A moment later, the sweat, grime, and engine oil vanished from his body. "Much better."
In the past, George never cared about appearances. But ever since he started rubbing shoulders with businessmen, nobles, and the occasional royal, he’d learned to keep up appearances—especially around Arthur. He didn’t want to offend his friend with grease-stained clothes or the stench of machine oil.
He spritzed himself with cologne for good measure, took a breath, and opened the door to the living room.
There, Arthur was already seated, calmly sipping a cup of coffee.
"Heh... If it isn’t my good ol’ boss," George said with a wide grin. He walked over and gave Arthur a tight hug. "I never thought I’d live to see the day—you actually visited me."
Arthur gave a small, apologetic smile. "I’m sorry if—"
"Shh," George cut in, waving a hand dramatically. "No apologies. I know your silver-haired girlfriend’s been keeping you very busy lately." He gave a theatrical sigh. "No time for us dwarves anymore."
Arthur let out a soft chuckle, smiling as he sipped.
"But I doubt you came just to catch up," George added, the grin fading into a thoughtful look. "You need something, don’t you?"
Arthur looked at him, studying the man. ’He’s changed,’ he thought. ’Still the same George—but more refined. Addicted to the whole batman fantasy... built his own cave and kept it hidden from even me.’
Of course, Arthur already knew about the cave. With Sylwen constantly investigating his inner circle—not out of paranoia but precaution—he was always aware of what his close friends were up to, even if he didn’t always approve of the snooping.
"I’m here to give you something."
Arthur reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek, black device. He handed it to George.
George blinked, taking it carefully. "Oh? What’s this little thing?"
"It’s the Hellphone," Arthur said plainly.
George froze. "W-what? This light, slim thing is a Hellphone?"
He turned it over in his hands. Compared to the clunky prototype he’d been using, this was a complete transformation.
"It flips," Arthur added. "Screen on top, keypad below."
George flipped it open and instinctively pressed the power button.
His eyes went wide. "It has color!? You added color to this thing?"
Arthur smiled. "The prototype was grayscale. I figured the real version should look... divine."
George was speechless for a second. Then he grinned. "Boss... thank you. Really."
Arthur chuckled. "Don’t thank me yet. I didn’t come here just to hand out presents."
George raised a brow, mock hurt. "Of course. Nothing’s free with you, huh?"
"Relax," Arthur said. "It’s simple. I’m launching the Hellphone. Public release, mass rollout. And I want you to be part of the big reveal."
George raised an eyebrow. "You mean, like, help market it?"
"More than that," Arthur said. "We’ll hold a press event. I’ll make a call — and you’ll answer it, live, on camera. Both of us on separate locations. The networks will broadcast it. No wires. Just two Hellphones. Talking. In real time."
George stared at him for a beat... then grinned wide. "You’re finally unveiling this thing, huh? About time. I thought you were gonna hoard it forever."
Arthur shrugged. "Had to make sure it was refined. No bugs. No regrets."
He paused, eyes distant for a second. In his previous life, cellphones existed long before the public knew. For a decade, they were hidden away — until Motorola made it public. That delay? Not this time.
With George now fully on board, Arthur moved to arrange the press conference. Naturally, his own network, Hellfire, would lead the event. The venue wasn’t the grand Hellfire Park headquarters, but a modest Hellfire Network building — still professional enough for what was about to unfold.
Soon, newsrooms across the Horn Kingdom buzzed as a message hit their office computers:
"Arthur Pendragon is calling for a press conference. He’s about to reveal something that could change the world. Don’t miss it."
The sender? Officially verified by Hellfire Messenger — complete with the signature logo and verification seal.
"Arthur Pendragon again?" muttered the editor-in-chief at Bulb 12, a prominent Horn-Wales based network. He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. "Let’s just hope it’s not another bank update. I’m done hearing about credit and debit cards."
One of his staff chuckled. "Knowing Arthur, it’ll be something no one’s seen coming."
"I wouldn’t miss this for the world," another reporter said, already grabbing their coat.
"Whatever he’s cooking up, it’s bound to be something bizarre," someone else added. "The guy doesn’t do normal."
And just like that, the buzz began to spread — a storm was coming, and Arthur Pendragon was at the center of it.