A month passed quickly, and Henry found himself more immersed in his work than ever. Though he spent most of his days refining Phantma, researching potential improvements, and experimenting with new ideas, he was still taken aback by the overwhelming response his AI had garnered. It was only when he randomly scrolled through his phone during a lunch break that he truly grasped the magnitude of its impact.

His YouTube recommendations were flooded with news and commentary videos, all revolving around one central theme—Phantma and its disruptive effect on the entertainment industry. His AI, initially designed to assist with automation and productivity, had now become a revolutionary tool that was changing the landscape of digital content creation.

Curious, he opened the latest news article and scanned the headlines:

[FIRST AI-GENERATED MOVIE TO MAKE IT TO NETFLIX]

[HOLLYWOOD IN SHOCK: CAN AI REPLACE TRADITIONAL FILMMAKING?]

[YOUTUBERS TURN INTO FILMMAKERS OVERNIGHT WITH PHANTMA]

[ANIMATION STUDIOS UNDER PRESSURE AS AI-GENERATED MOVIES GAIN POPULARITY]

[LOW-BUDGET FILMMAKERS FIND A NEW HOPE WITH PHANTMA]

[FIRST AI-GENERATED FILM TO WIN A MAJOR AWARD?]

[THE DARK SIDE OF AI FILMMAKING: ETHICAL CONCERNS ARISE]

[STREAMING SERVICES SCRAMBLE TO ACQUIRE AI-GENERATED CONTENT]

[PHANTMA'S IMAGE GENERATOR REPLACES TRADITIONAL CONCEPT ARTISTS?]

Henry leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised in astonishment. The reach of Phantma was spreading faster than he had anticipated. While he always knew the video creation aspect of his AI was powerful, he hadn't expected it to penetrate the film industry this deeply. The fact that an AI-generated movie had already made it to Netflix was both exhilarating and terrifying. This wasn't just about YouTube creators or indie animators—this was about disrupting an industry worth hundreds of billions.

The explosion of Phantma in the media was largely due to the rise of AI-generated movies. While traditional 3D animation required large teams of artists, animators, and months—if not years—of work, Phantma had streamlined the process significantly. The need for intricate character designs, rigging, and frame-by-frame animation was gone. Instead, users could input a script, define scene details, and let the AI handle the heavy lifting.

Of course, it wasn't entirely effortless. While Phantma took care of much of the technical aspects, users still had to edit the final output, tweak animations, and add voiceovers. However, even with these extra steps, creating a full-fledged animated movie was at least ten times faster than traditional methods. For independent filmmakers and small studios, this was a game-changer. Many of them, who had previously been limited by budget constraints, were now producing high-quality content that rivaled major studio productions.

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Among the movies making waves, one stood out in particular—a film titled "Echoes of Eternity." Created by an independent director using Phantma, the film had garnered massive attention online. It had a compelling story, fluid animation, and a unique aesthetic that blurred the line between human-made and AI-generated films. The sheer quality of the production stunned critics and audiences alike, leading to its acquisition by Netflix.

Some praised it as a revolutionary step forward in filmmaking, while others were less enthusiastic. Traditional animators and industry veterans were concerned. If AI could produce feature-length films with only a fraction of the workforce, what would happen to their jobs?

As expected, Phantma's rapid rise sparked intense debate. While some embraced the technology as an innovative tool that democratized content creation, others saw it as a direct threat to traditional jobs. Social media was ablaze with discussions, with artists and animators expressing their frustrations about the AI's potential to replace them.

Many studios and professionals argued that AI lacked the "soul" of human creativity. They claimed that movies made by AI, no matter how polished, would never be able to replicate the depth and nuance of films created by human visionaries. Others countered that AI was merely a tool—one that still required human guidance and direction.

Amidst the debate, there were also numerous offers to buy Phantma. Corporations, tech giants, and investors were all eager to acquire the AI, some offering figures that had already crossed the $1 billion mark. But Henry barely gave them a second thought. He had already made over $100 million from Phantma, and with its exponential growth, he saw no reason to sell. If he could make $100 million once, he could do it ten more times.

While Henry was busy overseeing Phantma's growth, another challenge had emerged—Vertex Corporation. The massive tech conglomerate had previously threatened to sue him, claiming his AI violated certain patents. For the past few weeks, he had been exchanging emails with their legal team, carefully maneuvering around their accusations.

In the end, he managed to force them to withdraw the case—not through negotiation, but through sheer pressure. He had gathered enough evidence of their own unethical practices and made it clear that if they proceeded, he would expose them publicly. On top of that, he warned them that he would countersue for defamation.

The ordeal left Henry both disgusted and angry. He knew this wouldn't be the last time a corporation tried to strong-arm him, so he needed to prepare. Lawsuits were a waste of his time and energy. Instead of dealing with them personally, he needed a team—people he could trust to handle legal and business matters.

Henry had been considering expanding his business for some time, but now it was becoming a necessity. Managing Phantma on his own was no longer feasible, and while he was reluctant to bring in too many outsiders, he needed competent people to handle operations.

He thought about hiring an agency to recruit staff, but he wasn't a fan of dealing with strangers. He needed someone he could trust. Someone who could take care of business negotiations, partnerships, and legal matters while he focused on innovation.

Then, an idea struck him—Michael.

Michael, his long-time friend and housemate, had always been obsessed with money. He wasn't just interested in wealth—he was the kind of person who would do anything within his power to maximize profit. While some might see that as a flaw, Henry saw it as an asset. Michael was sharp, pragmatic, and highly motivated. If there was money to be made, he would find a way to get it.

With that in mind, Henry decided to offer Michael a position as his handy man. He would handle business affairs, leaving Henry free to focus on the technical side of Phantma. Of course, Michael wouldn't work for free—but Henry had no problem paying him generously. If it meant securing Phantma's future and fending off corporate threats, it was worth every cent.