Creating Anime In A Fantasy World

Chapter 237: The Filming of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure Begins!

While Edward was finishing auditions with the southern frontier troops and preparing to start filming JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, the Empire itself was also undergoing a series of quiet but significant changes.

First was the Imperial Mage Academy.

After the impact of Steins;Gate, more and more mages threw themselves into the study of magitech alchemy. Some even achieved remarkable breakthroughs, securing their names in the newly established patent system.

At the same time, the influence of Steins;Gate also shifted the Academy’s priorities. Where once the pursuit had been ever larger, more destructive spells, mages now began to turn their attention toward the fundamentals—basic but crucial areas of research that had long been neglected.

Headmaster Hohenheim, together with Ska, incorporated magitech alchemy into the core curriculum, making it mandatory for every student, no matter their specialization.

Finally, Hohenheim began laying the groundwork for admitting ordinary people into the Academy. Since this move would overturn centuries of tradition, even he approached it cautiously, planning to announce the policy officially with the next year’s admissions season.

Thus, under the ripple effect of cinema, the entire magical community of the Empire was entering a new era.

. . . . .

Meanwhile, back in the capital, Emperor Hubbard issued a royal decree lifting restrictions on film, officially permitting its distribution beyond the southern territories.

For now, expansion was limited to the eastern and western territories—neither the capital itself nor the distant northern territory were included.

Though this sparked some dissent, because the Imperial capital was excluded, the backlash was muted. Most importantly, the Church had yet to notice how this new form of entertainment was beginning to reshape culture among the people.

With the matter settled, Hubbard turned his attention to a far greater battle: building hospitals across the Empire.

By providing secular medical care, he sought to strip the clergy of one of their strongest levers of control—the power to heal.

It would be a long and grueling fight, but for an Emperor who had endured a lifetime of wars both large and small, Hubbard felt no fear. On the contrary, there was a spark of relish in his eyes.

For the sake of humanity’s Empire, the old Emperor resolved to accomplish one last great deed before his abdication.

At the same time, in the eastern and western territories, Viscount Baniel personally spearheaded the campaign to promote cinema.

Posters plastered across towns, handbills passed out on street corners, firsthand stories from those who had seen the films—all means were employed.

No matter the method, the result was the same: the word film was now spreading through the territories like wildfire.

Few truly understood what a “movie” was, but in a world starved for entertainment, anticipation bloomed naturally in people’s hearts.

. . . .

Southern Territory, Nosrick City.

Though the Frost Film Festival had concluded, the heat around cinemas and tavern-theatres showed no sign of cooling. Day and night, endless streams of people poured in, like rivers of gold flowing into the pockets of the industry’s backers.

Watching this, Viscount Rainier’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper.

As an old noble of the South, he, like Baniel, had inherited a family theater. He had expected to grow wealthy and live in luxury. But then the rise of cinema had crushed those hopes: his theater lasted barely a year before collapsing.

The closure dealt him a devastating blow—not only had he lost a fortune, but his family’s standing itself had weakened severely.

Compared to Baniel, now soaring to near-unquestioned dominance in the South, Rainier could only gnash his teeth in bitter contrast.

After the collapse of his theater, Viscount Rainier racked his brains desperately, searching for a way to reverse his family’s decline.

At last, he found one.

He gathered together other nobles and theater troupes who had also suffered under the rise of cinema. Together, they made a bold decision: they would strike back using the very weapon that had defeated them. They would make a film of their own.

A perfect film.

To this end, Rainier wagered nearly everything he had left.

The South’s most prestigious troupe, the most beloved script in stage history, a costly magic cinematographer hired at great expense, and a coalition of like-minded partners investing in the project—

Rainier was certain that with a team this flawless, their work would surely produce a masterpiece—a film destined to rake in enormous box office returns.

In his mind’s eye, he already saw the vision: one month from now, theaters packed to bursting, crowds roaring with excitement, the South ablaze with cheers for his film.

“Humph! Edward Durin… Baniel… don’t think you’re the only ones who can make money from cinema. Since you created this wonderful new era, why shouldn’t we enjoy the spoils as well?”

With that triumphant declaration, Rainier let out a hearty laugh. Even the cheap wine in his cup seemed to taste sweet on his tongue.

. . . .

Time slipped by.

After completing auditions with the southern frontier troops, Edward wasted no time. He immediately summoned his production team and launched into preparations for filming the new movie.

Because the story required a grand setting, he went as far as purchasing an actual castle in the South to serve as the primary shooting location.

Through makeup and even a few magical alterations, Brando and Jocen were transformed into convincing young men. Everything was ready.

At last, with the cast gathered, the production crew assembled, and even a few curious villagers who had come after hearing rumors that a movie was being filmed, Edward stood before them all and declared in a ringing voice:

“Then—JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Part 1 begins filming, here and now!”

The moment his words fell, the cameras rolled.

Though the story itself was long and complex, its settings were relatively simple, requiring only a handful of recurring locations. This made the shooting process far smoother than usual.

The only real hitch came from a certain army captain who—while acting the villain—became far too immersed in his role. In the moment, he gave it his all without hesitation. But when he looked back on his own performance later, the shame would likely drive him into hiding for weeks.

Still, no matter how much he might regret it afterwards, in those scenes he embodied Dio to perfection.

It’s so much so that Edward couldn’t help but half-seriously wonder that perhaps Arcueid really is the direct ancestor of Brando.