# Chapter 7: First Blood
The emergency alarm shattered the pre-dawn quiet of the Control Grounds dormitories at 4:47 AM. Paul jolted awake in his single room, immediately sensing the Batbold's alert posture on its perch by the window.
"Real alarm, not drill-sound," the creature reported, its large ears swiveling toward the source. "Scent-signatures indicate high stress levels throughout facility."
Paul was pulling on his training uniform when his door chimed. Danny Reeves stood in the hallway, flickering more rapidly than usual between timeline versions—a sure sign of extreme probability flux.
"Get the others," Danny said, his multiple selves speaking in unison. "Director Vasquez wants Team Narrative in the briefing room. Now."
Five minutes later, all four team members sat around a holographic display showing a satellite view of what had once been the small town of Cedar Falls, Montana. Where the town should have been, there was now a massive crater filled with swirling grey mist.
"At 3:15 AM Mountain Time, Cedar Falls experienced what we're classifying as a Class-5 dimensional incursion," Director Vasquez said without preamble. Her usual calm demeanor was strained, and Paul noticed her hands trembling slightly. "Initial reports indicate the entire town—population 847—has been displaced into what witnesses describe as 'an endless grey void.'"
Paul's blood went cold. The description was uncomfortably familiar.
Agent Cross appeared on a secondary screen via video link, her background showing the organized chaos of a mobile command center. "The dimensional breach is expanding at a rate of roughly fifty meters per hour. At current projection, it will consume the county seat of Millbrook within eighteen hours."
"What kind of entity could displace an entire town?" Zara asked, small gravitational distortions rippling around her hands as her emotional control slipped.
"That's what you're going to find out," Director Vasquez replied grimly. "Team Narrative is being deployed as advance reconnaissance. Your job is to enter the affected zone, locate survivors, and identify the cause of the incursion."
Alexei leaned forward, frost crystallizing in the air around him. "This is not training exercise. This is actual combat deployment."
"Your first," Director Vasquez confirmed. "Normally, we wouldn't deploy first-year students for anything this dangerous, but Paul's unique abilities make your team our best option for understanding what we're dealing with."
The Batbold climbed onto Paul's shoulder, its voice unusually serious. "Creator-bond senses familiar resonance in grey-void description. This connects to Wordweaver's awakening consequences."
Paul felt sick. "You think I caused this?"
"We think your awakening may have destabilized barriers that were already weakened," Agent Cross said carefully. "But Paul, even if that's true, it means you're also our best hope for fixing it."
Danny's timeline versions consulted with each other in rapid whispers before he spoke. "Probability analysis shows... interesting results. In timelines where we don't deploy, the situation escalates to national crisis level within 72 hours. In timelines where we do deploy..." He paused. "The outcomes vary wildly. Some show total success, others show total catastrophe."
"Comforting," Alexei muttered.
"Equipment loadout is in Armory Bay 3," Director Vasquez continued. "Transportation departs in thirty minutes. Maya Chen will be accompanying you as intelligence liaison and communications specialist."
As they filed out of the briefing room, Paul felt the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders like a lead blanket. His first real mission, and it might be to clean up a disaster he'd accidentally caused.
The armory was a wonderland of specialized equipment designed for Transcended operations. Paul found himself fitted with a lightweight tactical vest that contained emergency medical supplies, communication gear, and what the technician cheerfully called "reality anchor points"—devices designed to maintain local dimensional stability.
"First time out?" the technician asked as she adjusted Paul's gear.
"Is it that obvious?"
"You've got that 'holy shit, this is actually happening' look." She smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. Your team has an excellent probability matrix for first-deployment survival."
"How excellent?"
"Eighty-seven percent."
Paul decided not to ask about the other thirteen percent.
The transport was a heavily modified aircraft that managed to be both cutting-edge technology and completely unmarked. As they flew toward Montana, Paul stared out at the pre-dawn landscape and tried to process the magnitude of what they were facing.
"Paul," Maya said, settling into the seat across from him. "I've been analyzing the dimensional signature readings from Cedar Falls. There are some concerning parallels to your awakening data."
She pulled up a tablet showing complex waveform patterns. "Look at this resonance frequency. It's almost identical to what we recorded when you first manifested the Batbold."
Zara studied the display from her seat nearby, gravitational sensors floating around her like tiny satellites. "The amplitude is much higher, though. Whatever caused the Cedar Falls incident has exponentially more power behind it than Paul's individual manifestations."
"Multiple creators working together?" Danny suggested, his various timeline selves comparing notes. "Or one creator with significantly more experience and fewer inhibitions?"
The Batbold chittered thoughtfully from Paul's shoulder. "Outcast senses deeper truth. Cedar Falls event feels like story-stealing, not story-making. Something takes existing narratives and rewrites them for darker purposes."
Paul was about to ask what the creature meant when the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom: "Approaching the perimeter. You'll want to see this."
Through the aircraft's reinforced windows, Paul could see the impossibility that had once been Cedar Falls. The town hadn't been destroyed—it had been replaced. Where buildings and streets should have been, there was a perfectly circular area of swirling grey mist that seemed to extend infinitely downward. At the edges, reality simply... stopped.
"Jesus," Maya whispered.
"Landing zone is two kilometers from the breach perimeter," the pilot announced. "Mobile command is already established. Good luck, kids."
The mobile command center was a collection of high-tech vehicles and temporary structures staffed by agents from multiple governmental departments. Agent Cross met them as they disembarked, her expression grim.
"Situation update," she said without preamble. "We've lost contact with the first reconnaissance drone. The second drone's last transmission showed structures that don't match Cedar Falls' architecture. Wherever the town went, it's not empty."
She led them to a monitoring station where technicians were analyzing the breach's dimensional readings. "The energy signature is definitely narrative-based, but it's... corrupted somehow. Like someone took Paul's ability and ran it through a filter of pure malevolence."
Paul stared at the readings, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the Montana morning. "What if someone else has abilities like mine, but they're using them to steal existing stories instead of creating new ones?"
"Story-thief," the Batbold hissed, its fur bristling. "Ancient enemy of true creators. Outcast knows such beings from old tales. They consume narratives, leaving only hunger in their wake."
Danny's multiple selves suddenly snapped to attention. "Probability spike incoming. Something is about to emerge from the breach."
Everyone turned toward the grey mist just as a figure stumbled out of the swirling void. It was a woman in her thirties, wearing what had once been a waitress uniform but was now tattered and stained with something that wasn't quite blood.
"Help me," she gasped as agents moved to assist her. "Please, they've taken everyone. They're rewriting us, making us into characters in their twisted stories. The children... oh God, the children..."
She collapsed, and as the medics rushed to help her, Paul noticed something that made his blood freeze. Where the woman's shadow should have been, there was nothing but grey emptiness—as if her very existence had been partially erased.
"Paul," Agent Cross said quietly, "I think it's time to find out exactly what your awakening unleashed upon the world."
As Team Narrative prepared to enter the breach, Paul felt his Blessed Land pulse with a mix of anticipation and dread. In the infinite grey of his domain, the shadow-wolf and Batbold's other story-companions stirred restlessly, sensing a threat to the very concept of narrative itself.
Whatever waited in that stolen town, it had the power to rewrite reality at a fundamental level. And it was hungry for more stories to consume.
Paul Grim, the failed writer turned reality architect, was about to face his first true enemy—another narrative manipulator who had chosen a very different path.
The grey mist swirled before them like an open mouth, waiting to swallow Team Narrative whole.
And in the depths of the stolen dimension, something that had once been human smiled and began composing its next story—one where four young heroes learned that not all tales have happy endings.