Cameraman Never Dies-Chapter 66: A very, unnecessarily elaborate docking station

The man— Gabriel, glanced back, visibly disappointed. "But she stole the card you gave me!"

"Excuses are unbecoming, Gabriel," the red-haired man snapped the pocket watch closed with finality. "I won’t hear any more of them. And what is this? Even children have more manners than you two."

In an instant, the air around them warped, and the tavern dissolved into nothing. The trio found themselves in The Studio— a personal domain, the gathering place of the Recorders. Judge, the red haired masked man, sat on a throne upon a raised dais, flanked by a long table with seven seats on either side, fourteen seats in total.

One figure had already occupied the seat closest to the throne. Lucifer, the sin of pride, lounged with an air of superiority.

The next two took their respective seats, Asmodeus sat near Lucifer, while Gabriel sat opposite of her.

Asmodeus, the sin of lust, grinned as she looked at the man across the table. It was Gabriel, the virtue of chastity, sulking slightly as he slid into his place. Lucifer gave a slight, dissatisfied sigh as if he were looking at children having a quarrel.

Judge had gotten better grasp of his powers these past years, he had made Lucifer submit to him via a script, it was just that simple. He also learned that others did not have to sign any contract to be bound by the skill, they just had to accept him as their master.

Another thing he did was to improve his ethercrafts, with the enhanced cognition, he could grasp the principles better, he had spent his time improving his grasp of Nihility and the principle that Seraphis gave him, brawl.

To him, teleporting to locations other than through where you entered is easy as he had mastered teleportation. Now he could move around with his studio.

He had a good master-servant relationship with the three people present, he had told him that the recorders served a god who had descended to the lower realms as a mortal, the god was him without the mask. Their task was to provide him with stories they recorded.

Judge watched them in silence for a moment, his mask unreadable. "You are Recorders, and tonight, you would head to the land of dragons" he finally said, voice echoing through the room. "You have one rule— never remove your mask. Not while you record."

He rose from his throne, teleporting the group excluding himself to the mortal realm, specifically to the bustling streets of Tiérmere, the Dragon’s Town. With a flick of his hand, he vanished, transforming back into his four-year-old self as he left the Studio behind.

It was, after all, his birthday.

———

The House of Drakonis loomed over the city of Tiérmere like a great stone beast. The castle was absurdly large, with walls thick enough to make even the most paranoid noble nod approvingly.

Defense towers sprouted everywhere, as if someone had gotten a little too enthusiastic with their fortifications. But the real showstopper was the personal Cloud Weaver dock. In a world where owning a dock was rarer than a truly humble politician, this was the equivalent of hanging a neon sign that read, "We are very, very rich."

Cloud Weaver docks were typically reserved for large trading companies or travel agencies, not private homes— even for nobles. Maintaining one was like trying to teach a cat to follow instructions: expensive, time-consuming, and usually unnecessary. But the Drakonis family clearly didn’t do "unnecessary." They did "impressive."

Judge, however, was too distracted by the weight of his formal black tuxedo— especially the navy vest that clung a little too tightly after lunch— to dwell on the castle’s grandeur.

He checked the time for what felt like the hundredth time on his golden watch. Amber had given it to him for his third birthday, and while he appreciated the craftsmanship, it wasn’t exactly helping with his impatience.

The watch was something else, though. Inside, a detailed engraving showed him, his brother, and Amber, all beaming up at him in a moment of sibling unity that likely never existed. The outer shell was covered in patterns so intricate that even the engraver probably forgot how they started by the time they finished.

Finally, as if responding to his frantic checking, a massive Cloud Weaver appeared on the horizon, cutting through the clouds like it had an important night date. Judge grinned and started moving toward the dock with all the urgency of a man late for his own scheme.

He barely noticed his siblings in the rush, even as he zipped past them. Amber was clutching a leather bag like it held all her hopes, dreams, and maybe even a sandwich. "Where’s he off to in such a hurry?" Liam asked, eyes wide with curiosity that only a five-year-old could maintain for longer than a minute.

"Stein’s coming," Amber said, her voice dripping with the kind of wisdom only a ten-year-old could have. "Judge and Stein are practically joined at the hip. It’s a little weird."

Liam, never one to pass up a chance to bounce around, started hopping on the patterned tiles like they were molten lava. "You know, Judge took forever to get ready today. That’s not normal. He usually just throws on whatever’s closest."

Amber chuckled, clutching the bag tighter. "Maybe he’s got a thing for Raphael? They’re both coming, right? She and Stein, I was told she was on house arrest, but no way she would miss the party." She laughed hard at her own joke and had to stop running, doubling over for breath. It turns out, laughing and running wasn’t a combination her lungs were designed for.

Meanwhile, Judge was busy living out his steampunk version of hallway surfers. He leaped over trays, dodged people like they were moving obstacles, and kept going with the kind of determination that suggested this wasn’t his first chaotic sprint through the castle.

But when he reached the intersection to the dock, he slowed down. It was hard not to, given the massive wooden doors that seemed to exist purely to make an entrance dramatic.

He did not have to push through the doors since there were people poring in and going out, he then stepped onto the Cloud Weaver platform— a structure that seemed designed to make anyone standing on it feel important. But there was way too many people, even if he was the star of the party, it was hard to stand out in such a crowd.

The platform was raised, of course. Cloud Weavers had a habit of being picky about where they docked, so elevation helped keep things smooth. The base pillars that supported the structure were made of reinforced steel and were coated with a material known as Luminary, the ether version of glow-in-the-dark paint.

This stuff could absorb nearby ether and glow when sunlight wasn’t around— kind of like a magical night light for the wealthy. It was rare, impractical for anything requiring real brightness, and completely unnecessary for a dock. In other words, perfect for the Drakonis family, who had way too much money that they had to spend in order to stay rich.

Judge couldn’t help but admire the setup. Iron pillars stood in neat rows, holding up an elegant brass roof with circular glass panes. Huge chandeliers dangled between the glass, probably there just to remind everyone how rich the Drakonis family was.

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Three long bridges connected to the landing decks, and each was wide enough to fit a few Cloud Weavers if they didn’t mind cozying up.

Two smaller ships were already docked, but they looked like rowboats compared to the behemoth heading for the third platform.

Judge glanced at the massive clock, one that showed time on all four sides— because why settle for one face when you can have four? And a huge lamp rested on top, glowing faintly with luminary that was just there to tell time. It was a marvel of engineering and an eyesore all at once.