The cloud grew red as thick droplets started falling from the sky. It wasn't rainwater. It was blood. The sky finally bled after a thousand years. Everyone on the ground knew what it meant.
A rift appeared somewhere in the continent.
It meant the end had begun.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE: THANK YOU FOR READING TILL NOW. UNFORTUNATELY, I CAN'T CONTINUE THE NOVEL SO THIS IS THE END. HEHEHE GOOD BYE.]
Click.
Click.
Click.
"What the hell?"
I sat in front of the computer, black hair falling between my eyes, as this page appeared in front of me. I used the mouse to scroll down, trying to find the remaining chapters.
Loading... Loading...
The text snapped back into place. Nothing changed. The words remained the same, bold and final, mocking my emotional investment.
THE END.
"This is it?"
"1500 chapters of building up this story for you to drop it in the final arc like that?"
I got pissed and started smashing the keyboard as a way to rebel.
The room was dark, filled only by the brightness emitted by the monitor. The fan sound inside it filled the room, generating heat, which made me sweat.
"I've invested six years of my life in this shit. Following this story every single day. At least give me a proper ending."
I hit POST.
The comment appeared instantly at the bottom of the chapter. Above it, the comment section was a barren wasteland.
Comments: 1
I let out a defeated sigh. It was only me. The sole witness to this ongoing story. A fresh breath among the sea of clichés, something I randomly stumbled upon.
There were no other likes, no theories from other fans, no arguments about shipping characters. Just me, shouting into space, and the author, silently posting chapter after chapter for an audience of one.
Feeling angry, I moved to the bed, away from the computer, and lay down facing the ceiling of my room.
My apartment was small, consisting of a single room and a kitchen. But even that felt too big for me.
There was no noise. Only the computer's heat and the fan's humming could be heard. The home lacked the warmth other places had. Something I was always envious of.
I always came home alone to the empty room, cooking the dish my mom taught me, although my dumbass could never make it properly.
My days had started becoming monotonous. There was nothing to expect from anyone, and no one expected anything from me.
Only games and novels filled my void. It became a gateway to happiness. Playing as the hero fighting demons, or reading about heroes trying to save their loved ones.
That's how I filled my emptiness. Especially this book, Bloodhound Chronicles.
This had been serialising for a very long time. I started it when my parents were alive, always hearing them scold me for being glued to the phone.
Reading the novel reminded me of those happy times.
Now there was nothing.
I slowly moved my forearms over my eyes, as if trying not to think about the past, which made me sad.
BEEP.
'What?'
The notification sound came out of nowhere, jolting me awake.
I frowned, then looked at the computer; a red dot appeared on the app.
Notification: [Author] replied to your comment.
My eyebrows immediately shot up. Every time I left a comment saying, "Thank you for the chapter," there was no reply. But now he replied something back.
I moved to sit in front of the computer.
'Now let's see what excuse you have for that rushed garbage.'
[Author]: Did you enjoy my novel?
My eyes were fixed on the message, blinking in confusion.
'What is he on about?' I scoffed, typing rapidly.
'Why would I read 1,500 chapters if I didn't enjoy it?
Does he think I'm an idiot?'
I typed back:
[Chris]: Yes.
I stared at the screen, waiting. The three dancing dots of the typing indicator appeared almost instantly.
[Author]: What did you enjoy about it?
I paused. My hand hovered over the keyboard. The anger in my chest slowly cooled, then I looked around the room, still empty as fuck.
Why did I like it?
I liked it because the world didn't revolve around the protagonist.
I liked it because the characters died.
Great characters.
Some who deserved better than the shit you wrote.
I began to type, my movements slower, more expressive.
[Chris]: High stakes from chapter 1. MC wasn't a dumbass, but not psycho either. Girls had actual personalities and goals instead of just swooning over the MC. It felt like the real world.
I paused, then added the critique that had been gnawing at me for the last fifty chapters.
[Chris]: The only thing I dislike is how easily you sacrificed the most important characters just to push the MC's power and move the plot forward. It felt cheap. Like their lives didn't matter in the end.
I hit send.
The silence returned. Outside the window, the voices of two people could be heard fighting for the parking spot, cursing each other loudly.
Beep.
The reply came faster this time.
[Author]: Easy?
[Author]: Do you think it was easy?
[Author]: Do you think you could have done differently?
I frowned. The tone of the text felt strange. It wasn't defensive anymore; it felt challenging. Almost personal. The words seemed to vibrate slightly on the high-definition screen.
"Could I have done differently?" I whispered aloud.
I thought about the character who was sacrificed by the cult. I thought about the tournament where the MC was too harsh on a character who tried his best. I thought about the six-headed demon appearing on the island, which led to the destruction of multiple places in the continent.
I was a reader. I had the benefit of seeing things from a different perspective.
Of course, I could see the paths not taken. I could see the traps before they were laid out.
'I felt like a proud asshole because I read so much of this shit and thought I knew better.'
My hands typed one word.
A word that sealed my fate.
[Chris]: Maybe.
I stared at the word Maybe. It sat there, innocent and unassuming.
Suddenly, the screen of my computer flickered. The screen glitched, a line of static tearing horizontally across the text.
I blinked, rubbing my eyes. "Great. Computer's dying too?"
But the computer wasn't dying. The screen brightened, increasing in luminosity until it was painful to look at. The text dissolved, the comment section melting away into a pool of white light.
Then, new words typed themselves out, letter by letter, in a font that looked like dripping ink.
[Author]: Then show me.
[Author]: Prove that their lives can matter.
"What the..."
I tried to drop the mouse, but my fingers wouldn't move.
It was as if the device was stuck to my skin.
Fuck this.
Suddenly, I felt like I was falling into an endless well. My body floated, dragging me towards an unknown destination. The sensation of my body slowly disappeared.
My vision slowly darkened, the mind lost its consciousness.
Then:
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING...]
'What is it?'
'Why can't I feel my body?'
[READER, WELCOME TO BLOODHOUND CHRONICLES]
A sharp pain went through my head, making me feel pain in my non-existent body.
'....'
'What the fuck?'