Lord of Entertainment
Chapter 341: Siren’s Cooperation

Chapter 341: Siren’s Cooperation

(3rd Person POV)

Arthur’s gaze fixed on the violin clutched in the Siren’s hand. Though he stood unaffected, he knew that if he were below the rank of «Divine King», he might not have fared so well.

Thanks to his own «Musical Magic», Arthur could sense it clearly—the Sirens’ power stemmed from a diluted form of music-element magic. Especially the central figure... hers was refined, amplified, and laced into every note they sang.

His ears perked as he tuned into the whispers carried by the wind across the water.

"What should we do, Lady Ligeia? He’s not falling under our spell!"

"That man... he’s not ordinary!"

Ligeia’s expression darkened, her brows furrowing.

Her close aide, Rafa, offered, "If our songs can’t bind him, perhaps we should strike directly."

Ligeia immediately shook her head. "We can’t attack beyond the Dome. You know that."

"That’s true," Rafa admitted, then smirked. "But what if we lure the ship to us instead? Pretend we’re enticed. Make him think we want to talk."

"That... might work," another chimed in.

"Clever," Ligeia murmured, eyes narrowing with thought.

They didn’t know Arthur was eavesdropping. He caught every word—and one term in particular stuck out.

’Dome? What’s that supposed to mean?’

He was suppressing his true power, limiting himself just below Divine King level to avoid attracting unwanted attention. That meant he couldn’t detect certain spatial barriers or divine formations in full detail.

’So that’s why they don’t attack ships outright... The Dome must be a boundary or a restriction. Perhaps they can’t freely swim the open sea. That’s why they draw ships in.’

While Arthur pieced it together, Ligeia suddenly raised her voice, her tone a mix of sweetness and sorrow.

"Oh, noble traveler," she called across the waves, "we are but fragile daughters of the sea—hunted by sharks, haunted by beasts of the deep." Her innocent eyes sparkled under the moonlight. "What could someone so bold and brave want from weak, beautiful creatures like us?"

Arthur smirked faintly. ’That’s the act? Cute.’ he thought, but he played along, raising his voice through the mic. "I am Arthur Pendragon, a great filmmaker of the surface! You daughters of the sea—Sirens—you’re going to be useful to my art. I want to hire you."

The Sirens snorted under their breath, amused. But they kept up the act.

Ligeia replied with a syrupy sweetness, her voice both innocent and sensually playful. "Oh, noble traveler, how flattering. We would be honored to serve such a... visionary." She offered a delicate smile. "But surely, we need to discuss this face to face. Bring your ship closer, so we may talk properly."

Arthur grinned. "Bring the ship closer?" He glanced around casually. The ship had slowed—intentionally—but also because its captain and crew were all still unconscious. "I’m afraid that’s not possible at the moment."

The Sirens tensed. ’Oh no... he’s not coming closer?’

Ligeia attempted to recover, pouting theatrically. "Why not, brave traveler? Could it be... you fear we fragile maidens pose a threat?"

Arthur chuckled. "No. It’s just that no one’s steering the ship right now." Then he added with a smirk, "But I can come to you."

"What?" Ligeia blinked.

She and her sisters stared in confusion.

Then their eyes widened in unison as Arthur stepped over the railing of the Titanic and jumped—only to land lightly on the sea itself.

He didn’t sink.

He stood on the surface of the ocean as if it were solid ground.

Mouths hung open across the water.

"Wh—what is this?!"

Arthur smirked and began walking—then jogging—across the waves, stable and confident, as though the ocean was nothing more than a city street.

He was using his ninja technique, one he’d learned during his time in the Naruto world.

Moments later, Arthur arrived before the Sirens. He was so close, he could’ve reached out and touched them—yet his expression remained calm, almost amused.

The Sirens, once confident and haughty, now looked visibly shaken. They subtly shifted their positions, encircling Ligeia as if to shield her from the strange man who had just run across the ocean.

Ligeia stood her ground, but even she felt the chill.

’Who in the world can walk on water as if it’s land?’ she thought, eyes narrowing. ’This man... he’s not normal. He must belong to the topmost power of the surface world.’

She watched him carefully as he stopped just in front of them. Despite her composed expression, every instinct screamed danger.

Arthur gave them a faint smile. "Well? I’m here."

Ligeia hesitated for only a second before raising her voice, soft but resolute. "Noble traveler, now that you’ve come to us... what is it you ask? Whatever your request may be, we shall fulfill it."

A few of the younger Sirens looked at her in disbelief.

"Lady Ligeia?" one of them whispered, confused.

’Weren’t we just pretending to lure him in? Why are you offering obedience now?’

Another sister stepped forward. "But... we don’t even know who he is—why are you—?"

Ligeia raised a hand without turning. Her tone remained gracious, but her voice carried iron.

"I’ve made my decision."

To Arthur, she smiled kindly—too kindly. But inside, her thoughts churned. ’No... I won’t risk angering him. He’s not ordinary. I can feel it... There’s a depth behind those eyes I don’t want to test.’

With that, the Sirens fell silent. The waves rippled softly between them.

Arthur smiled lightly. "That’s great. If you’re willing to help, then in return—I can help train your voices." He chuckled. "Think of me as your coach."

The Sirens froze.

"Wh-what?" one of them snapped, glaring. "How dare you!"

"Teach us?" another scoffed. "Our voices are unmatched!"

"No one in the sea or on land can rival the beauty of our song!"

"Even the mermaids try to mimic our tones, and they always fall short!"

They were clearly offended—insulted, even—as their pride flared.

Arthur simply nodded, understanding. "Fair enough. Let me show you, then."

Without another word, a colorful aura began to shimmer around him—notes and chords visibly pulsing in the air, like threads of sound weaving through light.

The Sirens gasped.

The aura began to harmonize, as if unseen instruments were tuning themselves in the background. From somewhere in the space between the sea and sky, a soft melodic hum rose—like an orchestra of light.

Ligeia’s eyes widened. She looked down at her Violin of Terror—it was resonating.

’No... that’s impossible,’ she thought. ’My violin is responding to him?’

Then Arthur sang:

"Hey Jude... don’t make it bad...

Take a sad song... and make it better..."

The Sirens fell silent.

Their jaws dropped, eyes locked on him in pure disbelief.

Even the most skeptical among them looked stunned.

The voice—rich, gentle, and powerful—cut through the sea like a spell far older than their own. But it wasn’t enchantment. It was music, pure and unbound.

When Arthur finished, the ocean itself seemed quieter.

Then Ligeia slowly swam forward, her sisters parting as she approached. Her expression had changed completely—there was no pride left. Only awe.

"We... will help you," she said softly. "In any way we can."

Arthur smiled. ’Mission success.’

---

The next morning, Firfel stirred awake. She stretched out her arms with a soft groan—then blinked. She was in her bed.

"Huh...?" she mumbled, sitting up groggily.

Then it hit her.

"Arthur!" she gasped.

She threw on her robe and hurried barefoot to the deck. The sea breeze hit her face just as she reached the railing—and what she saw made her freeze in place.

Her eyes widened.

There, at the bow of the Titanic, was Arthur... casually talking to a group of Sirens.

Her mouth parted. "Wh-what... is going on?"

Arthur turned around, smiling like it was just another morning.

"Oh, Firfel. You’re up." He gestured beside him. "Let me introduce you—these are the daughters of the sea. That one there is their eldest sister—Lady Ligeia."

Ligeia gave a graceful wave. "A pleasure," she said sweetly.

Firfel waved back out of instinct, then leaned in to Arthur, whispering urgently, "What are they doing here? Why do they look so... friendly?"

Arthur chuckled. "I’m teaching them how to sing. I’m their coach now."

Firfel blinked. "You’re what?"

Before she could say more, Apollonia, Vivienne, and others began arriving on deck—each stopping in disbelief at the sight.

Even Captain Ollie stood frozen, hat in hand. "By the gods..."

Rika stared, lips parted. "Why are the Sirens acting like... students?"

Then she heard Arthur speaking to Ligeia about vocal range and harmony, and her jaw dropped. "He’s... actually teaching them how to sing?"

The days passed, and somehow—impossibly—the presence of the Sirens became normal. They were spotted on the deck, near the crew, or floating peacefully beside the ship, humming melodies and asking for feedback from their new "coach."

But then, the calm broke.

A message spread across the ship: the Titanic would soon be sunk.

"What?! Why?" some extras shouted. "The Grand Whale is perfectly fine!"

"Arthur’s going to destroy this ship? For real?!"

Many were shocked—and upset. They had grown attached to the vessel after spending weeks aboard it.

But the decision had already been made.

That night, Arthur quietly gave the order—and the Sirens, now fully cooperative, helped orchestrate the controlled sinkage. They also played a key role in preventing real accidents, guiding extras and assisting with the scenes underwater.

It was only one chance.

Amon knew it. The cast and crew knew it. And they gave everything they had.

At the end of the climactic scene—Jack slipping beneath the cold sea—the cast stood drenched on the spare ship, watching the footage play back on the monitors.

Tears fell.

They weren’t just watching a film scene.

They were witnessing something unforgettable.

And once young Rose’s story concluded, Hellfire would resume filming the next portion—the part set in the distant future: the year 1476.

Because the story they were making... had spanned lifetimes.