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Chapter 31: Pure Flame Award goes to...

Ten minutes after our appointed time, Ray arrives at my studio. He\'s an imposing figure - tail aflame, red hair, red eyes - but he\'s dressed in a sharp suit that screams professionalism.

As he looks around, he says, "Your Highness, this place looks comfy. You have a great setup here."

I have to stifle a laugh. Ray\'s clearly trying to be polite, but this place is far from luxurious. It\'s a workspace, office, and until recently, my bedroom all rolled into one. But hey, at least the bed in the corner is gone now that I can afford a nearby apartment.

"Have a seat, Mr. Lava," I say, gesturing to a chair. "And please, drop the \'Your Highness\'. I\'m not exactly on the royal family\'s card list anymore."

Ray nods, seeming relieved at the informality. "Understood, Mr. Morningstar."

I lean forward, getting down to business. "Now, I can see the Lava Brothers are quite eager to acquire the rights for \'The Demonfather\'. Your offer of 72% box office share and 330,000 dollars upfront is... well, it\'s raised a few eyebrows. I\'m wondering if you\'re even looking to make a profit here."

Ray shifts in his seat, and I press on. "Let me ask you straight out - why are the Lava Brothers willing to risk so much on my film?"

Ray takes a deep breath before answering. "If I\'m being honest with you, Mr. Morningstar, it\'s because my brothers and I believe your film is the key to breaking the curse of mediocrity that\'s plagued demon cinema for far too long. We see \'The Demonfather\' as a turning point, a chance to prove that demons can create art that rivals - or even surpasses - what humans and other races are producing."

I can\'t help but smile at his words. Sure, I\'m not naive enough to think profit isn\'t a factor - this is still a business, after all. But their vision, their belief in the potential of demon cinema... it\'s refreshing. It\'s rare to find that kind of passion in this industry.

"That\'s quite a vision, Mr. Lava," I say, leaning back in my chair. "And I have to say, it\'s an appealing one. But let\'s talk specifics. How do you plan to market and distribute \'The Demonfather\' to achieve this lofty goal?"

***

(Rupert Darkflame\'s POV)

Two weeks have passed since the Ferland Demon Film Festival kicked off, and today\'s the moment of truth. The air in the Crimson Theatre is thick with anticipation as we await the announcement of the "Pure Flame Award" winner.

The place is crawling with industry bigwigs - writers, actors, producers, filmmakers - all here to see which film takes home the top prize. But my eyes are fixed on one person: Arthur Morningstar, the exiled prince, sitting in the middle rows.

It\'s like looking at a different demon. Gone is the hesitant, oft-mocked prince. In his place sits a man radiating confidence. I\'ve been itching to approach him, but he\'s constantly surrounded by others, no doubt discussing his groundbreaking colored camera tech and "The Demonfather".

"Which film do you think will win the \'Pure Flame Award\'?" The whispered question from the demon next to me pulls me from my thoughts.

His companion scoffs. "Is that even a question? It\'s got to be \'The Demonfather\'. Nothing else comes close."

I nod in silent agreement. It\'s not just the best film in the competition - it might be the best film I\'ve ever seen, period. Human and elven "masterpieces" included.

The festival director, a diminutive imp demon, takes the stage. We sit through the announcements for short films and other minor categories. "Pure Succubus" snags the Audience Choice Award, which isn\'t surprising given its popularity.

Finally, it\'s time for the main event. The imp clears his throat, his voice echoing through the suddenly silent theater. "And the Pure Flame Award goes to..."

He opens the envelope, and I swear I see his face fall for a split second. His voice loses its bombastic tone, becoming almost meek. "Rising Demon: Bobby."

The theater erupts in chaos. Shouts of disbelief and anger fill the air.

"What?" I hear myself say, my voice lost in the cacophony of outrage.

The confusion in the theater is palpable. Voices rise in a cacophony of disbelief and anger.

"Rising Demon: Bobby? Are they serious?" someone near me sputters.

Another voice chimes in, incredulous, "I don\'t remember anyone even watching that film! Did it even screen?"

I\'m still trying to process what\'s happening when the director of the winning film steps onto the stage. As he accepts the award, the audience falls into a stunned silence.

It\'s Bobby Morningstar. Arthur\'s brother.

"Thank you for this prestigious award," Bobby says, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. He launches into a speech, acting as if the award was destined for him all along.

I look around, trying to make sense of what just happened. Most of the audience is on their feet, gesticulating wildly. Some are heading for the exits, disgust clear on their faces.

I can\'t help but turn my attention to Arthur, and I\'m not alone. Half the theater seems to be watching for his reaction.

Looking at Arthur, he\'s the spitting image of Michael Corleone from "The Demonfather" - calm, yet cold. Of course, Arthur played Michael, but this... this isn\'t acting. This is Arthur channeling that same terrifying composure that made Michael such a chilling character.

The resemblance is uncanny, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

***

As the announcement sinks in, I\'m fighting the urge to punch someone. The anger bubbles up inside me, but I force it down. It\'s not worth it.

It\'s just a damn award from a demon film festival. It doesn\'t prove anything.

So I sit there, calm as a frozen lake, watching Bobby\'s smug speech. The bastard even has the audacity to look at me challengingly as he wraps up.

Fucking bastard, I curse inwardly. But outwardly? I\'m the picture of composure.

Let him have his fake award. He can clutch his little trophy all he wants, but the real prize - the attention, the buzz, the future of demon cinema - that\'s all mine. And it\'s real.

I clap politely as he steps off the stage, my face a mask of indifference.

As I stand to leave, something odd happens. The demons in the seats part like the Red Sea, fear evident in their eyes as I pass.

I\'m momentarily confused. Did they misunderstand something?

But then I shrug it off. Who cares? It makes it easier for me to get the hell out of this farce of an awards ceremony.

As I stride towards the exit, my mind is already racing ahead. This setback? It\'s nothing. Just a bump in the road. The real game is just beginning.

Bobby can have his little moment of glory. But I\'ve got a revolution to lead, and I\'m just getting started.

The award may not have gone my way, but I\'ve got something far better: my reward from the Entertainment System - computer technologies.

A grin spreads across my face as I consider the possibilities. I\'m going to create my own electronics company, develop computers, maybe even launch a video game console and start selling games.

After all, my system isn\'t called the "Entertainment System" for nothing.

I\'ve recently unlocked something called Entertainment Points. The concept is simple but powerful: I gain points based on how much I entertain people. The more impressed they are, the more points I rack up.

It\'s like a game, really. A game I intend to win.

As I step out into the cool night air, I can almost see the future unfolding before me. Movies were just the beginning. With computers and video games, I can revolutionize entertainment in this world. I can bring joy, excitement, and wonder to people on a scale never before seen.

And the best part? The more I entertain, the more I impress, the more points I\'ll gain. It\'s a beautiful, self-perpetuating cycle of creativity and reward.

I chuckle to myself, earning a few strange looks from passing demons.