The light swallowed everything.
Kael squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for heat, for pain—but none came. Instead, a ringing silence pressed against his ears, like the world itself had paused.
When he dared to open his eyes, his tiny apartment was gone.
He stood in a vast library. Endless shelves stretched into the shadows above, filled not with books, but with glowing manuscripts, each one whispering faintly like voices in a dream. The air smelled of old paper and ink.
At the center floated the notebook—the same old draft he had been holding. Only now, its cover glowed silver, and the title he had once scribbled in clumsy handwriting had rewritten itself in elegant script:
"The Book of Echoes."
Kael's throat went dry. "Okay… okay, this is fine. Perfectly normal. People wake up in haunted libraries all the time."
As if answering him, the notebook opened on its own, pages fluttering until they stopped on a blank sheet. Words burned themselves into the parchment, letter by letter:
> Welcome, Author.
Your unfinished stories call for completion. Your fate shall be rewritten.
Kael stumbled back. "Author? No, no, I'm just a rejected writer-slash-E-rank slime cleaner! You've got the wrong guy."
The text shimmered.
> Incorrect.
You are Kael Ardyn. Born 10th Frostmonth, Year 215.
Occupation: Hunter (E-Rank), Failed Writer.
Evaluation: Potential—UNREALIZED.
Kael groaned. "Ouch. Did the magic notebook just roast me?"
Suddenly, glowing windows appeared around him—transparent panels, like something out of a video game.
[📜 SYSTEM: THE BOOK OF ECHOES HAS AWAKENED]
[All written words carry power. Reality may be edited.]
[Warning: Unfinished drafts will demand resolution.]
Kael reached out, poking one of the floating screens. It rippled under his touch, as real as glass. "Oh, great. My life's officially an RPG. Next thing you'll tell me I've got stats."
Another window popped open:
[Status: Kael Ardyn]
Strength: 8 (Below Average)
Agility: 10 (Average)
Intelligence: 12 (Slightly Above Average)
Creativity: 20 (Exceptional)
Luck: … 3 (Oh dear.)
Kael squinted. "Three? Really? I knew my luck sucked, but you didn't have to put it in writing!"
The Book pulsed with light, flipping pages again. More words appeared:
> Quest Unlocked: "The Author's Trial"
Write. Fight. Survive.
First Draft: Defeat the Guardian of Chapter One.
The floor beneath him shook. From the shadows of the towering shelves, something stirred—a massive figure, stitched together from shredded pages and broken quills, its face a blank sheet with words scrawled in blood-red ink: DELETE.
It roared, the sound like a hundred manuscripts being torn apart at once.
Kael froze. His heart hammered against his ribs. "That's… that's not a slime. That's definitely not a slime."
The Book of Echoes floated to his hands, glowing brighter. A quill appeared in his grip, sharp as a blade.
> Tip of the pen, edge of the sword.
What you write… becomes reality.
Kael's mouth went dry. He stared at the approaching monster, then at the quill, then at the blank page glowing before him.
His hands trembled. His mind screamed at him to run. But something inside—something he thought was long dead—stirred again.
The dream he once chased. The belief that words had power.
He gritted his teeth, lifted the quill, and scrawled onto the glowing page with shaky determination:
"The hero dodges the monster's first strike."
The Guardian lunged—its massive arm slicing downward. Kael panicked, bracing for death—
—but at the last second, his body moved on its own, twisting out of the way exactly as he had written.
The ground exploded where he had just stood. Dust and parchment filled the air.
Kael stared at himself, wide-eyed. "No way… it worked."
The Book flashed. More words burned into the page:
> The story begins.
And the Guardian roared again, preparing its next strike.