Robben opened the notebook he carried with him and began sketching furiously. As a skilled copyist, his ability to capture shapes was uncannily accurate. Before long, he had finished reproducing line-art sketches of all of Mira’s paintings from the art exhibition.

But Robben was a man of principle. He wouldn’t directly use the characters Mira had created. Even though that was a common practice these days, he planned to create his own designs based on Mira’s art style.

Besides, Mira’s paintings were a bit too dark. Looking at them, he couldn’t even imagine how a protagonist could possibly defeat those things. He had no idea what she must have gone through to paint something like that.

He planned to redesign the figures to be more humanoid, which would make them easier to draw in action poses.

He’d read in the newspaper that the Kingdom was preparing to draft a copyright law for artistic works. If it passed, not only would plagiarism be restricted, but creators could also earn additional income from derivative works.

Just like scientists and Mages, being a creator would become a respected profession in the future.

Although he knew nothing about politics, he was quite optimistic about the bill’s passage.

It wasn’t because he had seriously analyzed the pros and cons for all parties involved. It was mainly because he’d heard a rumor on the street that the Zog Group had already greased all the wheels in the parliament, and all that was left was the vote.

The Zog Group was just too powerful. Their toys and potions alone were sold all over the country and exported overseas, not to mention the Shadow of Evil films that you’d be mocked as a fossil for not having seen.

He’d heard they were also highly regarded among Mages, but as for the specific details concerning Transcendents, he was in the dark.

His favorite product was a drink called Coca-Cola. It was sweet, and drinking it felt like a crackling explosion in his mouth. Adding ice cubes doubled the experience. He only splurged on a bottle for his birthday.

He just didn’t understand why the Zog Group would name a very nasty-tasting potion "Pepsi-Cola," since it was no fun to drink at all.

While he was busy sketching away, something in Mira’s work must have struck a chord with Ribery beside him. He had a sudden burst of inspiration and started muttering to himself as he drew out panels.

In their collaboration, Ribery was the one who would mark up what content should go into each comic panel.

"Why were we so obsessed with the idea of an Ordinary person getting Mechanical Armor by pure luck to fight the Continent’s enemies? It’s so stupid, so stupid."

"An Evil Demon invades from another dimension and gets sealed away by a Legendary Hero. But a thousand years later, the seal weakens. The Mechanical Armor left behind by the hero activates, choosing a host to fight the Evil Demon."

"A sense of destiny, that’s what this is! The chosen protagonist—no, several chosen protagonists! That way we can design a bunch of different sets of Mechanical Armor. The protagonists have to deal with the trivialities of daily life while also fighting Evil Demons. It’s so relatable!"

"The baker’s daughter who grew up with the protagonist complains that he’s not ambitious and always comes home covered in injuries. Then she sees a Mechanical Warrior fighting an Evil Demon and starts to idolize the Mechanical Warrior, but she has no idea it’s actually the protagonist."

"Then, the protagonist saves her in a heroic rescue. The female lead starts to suspect his identity because of his little habits and mannerisms, but the protagonist vehemently denies it. This will totally hook the readers! They’ll be dying to know when the two of them will finally figure each other out, hehe..."

"And then, some noble’s son falls madly in love with the female lead, but she resolutely chooses the protagonist. The noble, driven by a love turned to hate, joins the side of the Evil Demons! He uses the female lead to threaten the protagonist, who first confesses his love and then makes a desperate comeback! Oh, that’s so good! Haha, that is SO good..."

Ribery stomped his foot in excitement.

Robben was so startled by Ribery’s weird, giddy laugh that he dropped his charcoal pencil. Watching his partner’s eyes gleam, he thought, ’I don’t know if the readers will be able to relate, but the author himself is completely immersed.’

’He’s not even trying to be subtle. The whole street knows Ribery has a crush on the daughter of the baker across the street, including the girl herself. And he still thinks his secret crush is well-hidden.’

’The neighbors started a betting pool eight years ago on whether his confession would succeed. It went on for so long that the bet fizzled out. Now the wager has changed to whether he’ll even dare to confess, and how quickly he’ll get rejected after he does.’

’Oh, right, I bet on ’he dares’ and ’over 3 seconds’ in a parlay. I think the baker’s daughter is a nice person; even if she wants to reject him instantly, she’d probably pretend to hesitate for a few seconds.’

"That’s some nice drawing."

A pleasant female voice came from behind him. Robben instinctively slammed his notebook shut.

It was one thing to hope that his comic would have readers, but it was another thing entirely for people to connect the comic to the author in person.

’Doxxing alert!’

"Why’d you cover it? I didn’t say it was bad."

Robben quickly turned his head and saw a tall, beautiful woman.

He stammered, "La-Lady Furin, we’ll l-leave right away."

He also tugged on Ribery, who was next to him.

However, Ribery didn’t react at all, still lost in his creative world.

"The female lead is unhappy that the male lead is hiding his identity, and the male lead thinks she doesn’t understand his great cause, so they argue. This will hook the readers again! Then the female lead regrets it and starts frantically apologizing and chasing after him, hehehe..."

"Ribery!" Robben said urgently. He thought someone like Lady Furin would be the type to look down on comics the most.

"What is it? My creative juices are flowing right now, don’t interrupt my story planning."

"Lady Furin!"

"What!" Ribery also slapped his draft sketches shut.

"Why are you two so scared? I’m not going to do anything to you. Are you drawing a comic?"

"Yes! Ah, no!"

"I already saw the panels you were drawing. Only comics divide the page like that. And I think your story sounds pretty interesting."

"Really? You read comics too?" Robben hadn’t expected Lady Furin to say that. Other than his mother, no one had ever praised the things they tinkered with.

"I don’t, but I know a Dragon who does. And chances are, they’ll really like your comic."

"A Dragon?"

---

Zog Magazine. This time, the location wasn’t on Chrysanthemum Street. A magazine publisher had no need to buy a building in such an expensive area, so they had chosen a spot near the Mixed Zone.

It was cheap—only a fifth of the price of the commercial district. The downside was the poor public safety, but the level of crime here was frankly child’s play for Zog.

Currently, the three major gangs in the Mixed Zone were vassals of Zog’s vassals, under the direct administration of Zor.

On the second floor, Elsa was carrying out her easiest task of the year.

Reading comics.

Her job was to filter out the comics with abysmal artwork and poorly written dialogue.

Make no mistake, any call for submissions will inevitably attract a huge pile of entries from people with absolutely no self-awareness about their own skill level.

As well as comics that were just aiming for lewd content.

Although she quite liked them, Zog Comics was aiming for an all-ages audience. That was the only way to achieve the greatest influence and possess the highest IP value.

After all, a comic you fall in love with in your childhood will always be seen through a nostalgia filter, even when you’re grown up.

"Here you go, Editor Ginger Tea." Elsa placed a large, pre-screened stack of submissions in front of Zog.

"Thanks."

"I can understand an editor giving themself a pseudonym, but why ’Ginger Tea’?"

"This name makes the review process go faster," Zog said, quickly scanning through the submissions.

Because the prize money for the Zog Cup Comics Grand Prix was so enticing, there was a massive number of submissions. Zog needed to first eliminate the ones that looked like total flops and weren’t even worth scoring.

"But what is ’ginger,’ and what is ’tea’?"

"Ginger is a close relative of the potato. It’s best when stir-fried with shredded potatoes."

Zog consecutively rejected a dozen submissions from people who could only draw and had no idea how to tell a story.

"As for tea, it’s a beverage that’s many times better than coffee!" Zog chugged a mouthful of incredibly bitter espresso. It certainly did the trick for waking him up.

"Zog!" Furin’s voice came from outside the door. "I’ve brought you a comic submission!"