The night finally fell.
Or maybe the system just decided it was time.
The ruined plaza dimmed, torches sparking to life along shattered walls. Survivors huddled into makeshift groups, whispering prayers, trading food and water, clinging to Kael's presence like moths to a flame. His name was still passed from mouth to mouth, reverent, heavy with gratitude.
Kael sat at the center of it all, not because he demanded it, but because the world bent around him that way. Even the flickering firelight painted him as though a portrait artist had chosen his angles: jaw strong, cloak torn just enough to look heroic, eyes sharp, unshaken. The Hero of the First Hour.
And me?
I sat on a broken bench just outside the circle of torchlight, Dev hovering close like an anxious shadow. My head throbbed with backlash, my ribs ached, and my nose still leaked faint trickles of blood. My blade-pen twirled weakly between my fingers, the only thing steady about me.
The system hadn't been kind.
[Temporary Debuff: -50% Physique, -30% Agility.][Duration: 6 Hours.]
Every breath scraped like sandpaper. Every step felt like my bones were shackled. And yet, despite the suffocating weight dragging at my body, the Rewrite window still flickered faintly in the corner of my vision — insistent, patient, like a candle flame begging for fuel.
✦
The survivors weren't subtle.
They glanced at me when they thought I wasn't looking. Their voices dipped low, hushed but sharp.
"That's the bug…""The gods wanted him deleted.""Why is he still alive?"
Every whisper slid under my skin like a blade. Fear. Curiosity. Uneasy awareness that I shouldn't exist.
None of them looked at me the way they looked at Kael.
He was their light.I was their mistake.
✦
Dev leaned close, whispering with the urgency of someone trying not to be overheard.
"Reed," he said, voice shaking, "you… you really gonna keep doing that?"
"Doing what?" I murmured.
"You know." He glanced at the blade-pen, then the faint shimmer of the Rewrite window in the air. "That thing. The rewriting. It looks like it's killing you."
I chuckled, though it came out cracked, raw. "That's because it is."
His face twisted. "Then why—"
I lifted the blade and drew a lazy arc through the air, interrupting him. "Because experiments hurt."
✦
The Rewrite prompt flickered.
[Sentence: The torch burned low, flickering in the night.]
[Rewrite? (Y/N)]
My thumb hovered.
"Don't," Dev whispered.
I pressed Y.
[Sentence: The torch burned brighter, shadows curling at its base.]
The flame leapt suddenly, unnaturally strong, flooding the plaza with golden light. Gasps rippled from nearby survivors as the torch steadied instead of sputtering.
But my attention wasn't on the light.
It was on the darkness.
The shadows didn't scatter as expected. They curled. Coiled. Like ink stirred in water.
Dev's breath caught. "Did you… did you see that?"
"Yeah," I muttered, heart hammering. "The shadows moved."
✦
I tried again.
[Sentence: The shadows stretched, reaching toward Ishaan Reed.]
The darkness obeyed. Tendrils lengthened like searching fingers, slithering across cracked stone until they curled against my hand.
Cold brushed my skin. Not biting, not painful. More like recognition.
Dev scrambled back, nearly tripping. "Nope. Nope. That's cursed. Absolutely cursed."
My pulse raced, but instead of fear, something else filled me.
Excitement.
Because for the first time, it wasn't backlash. It wasn't blood and burning nerves.
It was control.
✦
Of course, Mirae noticed.
Her voice rang out, bright and mocking across the plaza.
"OOOOOH, viewers, are you seeing this? Our little bug isn't just scribbling words anymore — he's playing with the dark side! Emo arc, let's gooo!"
The broadcast lens swiveled, gleaming in the night. First it focused on Kael, haloed in heroic torchlight. Then it panned to me: hunched, pale, shadows writhing at my fingertips.
The dimensional chat detonated.
"Shadow Quill???""Hero's light vs Bug's shadow incoming.""I ship it.""Delete your account.""LMFAO side character energy."
I groaned. "Why do I always trend for the worst reasons?"
The system, ever the sadist, chimed in:
[The gods laugh at your suffering.]
✦
But not every god laughed.
Some whispered.
[A God of Night hums: "The ink suits him."][A God of Shadows leans closer: "Ours, perhaps?"][A God of Secrets murmurs: "Careful. Too much truth bleeds."][Unknown Origin: "…Keep writing."]
The shadows quivered at their words, curling tighter around my hand like a protective animal. They weren't hostile. They weren't wild. They were waiting.
Dev's eyes were wide, horrified and awed at once. "Reed," he said slowly, "I don't think you're just… rewriting anymore."
✦
And he was right.
Because when I looked down at the darkness clinging to my skin, it didn't just look like shadow.
It looked like ink.
Liquid. Alive.
Every flicker sent tiny shivers up my arm, like it was trying to write something onto me, through me. The torch's flame guttered, as though jealous of its opposite.
I breathed out, chest tight.
"I'm not rewriting the world," I whispered. "I'm rewriting its margins."
✦
The survivors were staring now.
Some pressed closer to Kael's glow, whispering frantic prayers. Others watched me with fascination, unable to look away from the shadows weaving at my hand.
And Kael?
He finally turned.
For a heartbeat, our eyes met across the ruined plaza. His expression unreadable. Calm, collected, the way only someone truly chosen could be.
Then, just barely, his jaw tightened.
He knew.
He knew I wasn't supposed to exist. He knew the gods had argued over me. He knew the shadows weren't part of the script.
But instead of drawing his sword or denouncing me, he simply turned back to his circle of admirers.
The Hero in the light.The Bug in the dark.
✦
The Rewrite window shimmered again, unbidden.
[Sentence: Ishaan Reed faded into obscurity, a forgotten side character.]
[Rewrite? (Y/N)]
I stared at it, heart thundering.
Dev whispered, panicked, "Don't. Just… let it fade. Safer that way."
And for the first time, I hesitated.
Because maybe he was right. Maybe being forgotten was easier. Safer.
But then the ink curled around my wrist, dark and sure. My lips twisted into a bloody smile.
"No," I whispered. "Shadows aren't forgotten. They just wait."
I pressed Y.
[Sentence: Ishaan Reed embraced the shadows, waiting for his chance to write.]
✦
The system's voice shifted. No longer cold, mechanical. Almost reverent.
[Title Progression: ??? unlocked.]
The plaza shivered. Torches bent. Shadows thickened like wet paint. Survivors gasped and backed away.
And the gods stirred.
[A God of Stories whispers: "The shadow writes too."][A Trickster God cackles: "Ohhh, spicy."][A God of Order snarls: "An abomination."][A Goddess of Mercy murmurs: "Or a salvation, hidden in ink."][A God of Shadows exults: "He is ours."][Unknown Origin: "…Good."]
Their voices tangled in the void above, though no star shone.
The plaza was just stone and ruin. And yet I felt them — thousands of gazes, divine and terrible, all fixed on me.
✦
Dev shook my shoulder, trembling. "Reed… Reed, what did you do?"
I looked down at my hand.
The ink no longer clung like passive shadow. It pooled, swirling, forming jagged letters across my skin. Symbols I couldn't read.
And yet I understood.
This wasn't just rewriting anymore.
It was authorship.
A new story, dripping black, waiting to be told.
✦
Kael's torchlight halo looked dimmer from where I sat.
He was still the Hero. The savior. The center.
But I no longer felt the need to stand in his shadow.
Because the shadows weren't his to cast anymore.
They were mine to write with.
✦
And so I sat back on that broken bench, bleeding, aching, ink curling against my veins.
The crowd clung to Kael's light.
But the darkness had chosen me.
The system didn't laugh this time.
It whispered.
[New Title Granted: Inkborne.][Effect: Shadows recognize your words. Ink obeys your will.]
The flame crackled. Survivors whispered. Dev stared at me like he didn't know me anymore.
And I smiled through the blood and the ink.
Because for the first time since the gods tried to erase me…
I wasn't afraid of the dark.
I was writing with it.