The email from Kasia arrived at 5:17 AM.
The subject line was: Target Package - Kozlov, A.
I was already awake, writing. The words flowed easier now, like the universe itself was approving my path.
I opened the email. It was clinical, thorough, and utterly ruthless.
Adrian "The Prodigy" Kozlov.
· Age: 24.
· Current Fistoria Ranking: #4 (stable).
· New Series: "Sword of the Exiled Prince." Launch date: Next Thursday.
· Contract: Gold-tier exclusive. Heavy platform marketing commitment.
· Weaknesses:
1. Financially over-leveraged. Took a large cash advance against future royalties. Missed sales targets on his last series.
2. Personal: Caring for a sick mother. Medical bills are a constant stress.
3. Creative: Relies heavily on a single ghostwriter for battle scenes. The ghostwriter is currently dissatisfied with pay.
Attached were PDFs of his Fistoria contract (redacted but revealing), screenshots of private messages with his ghostwriter complaining, and even a schedule of his mother's upcoming hospital appointments.
Kasia's note at the bottom was concise:
Suggested action: Financial pressure point is most effective. A significant, unexpected expense could force him to breach his contract terms to seek fast cash, nullifying his launch promotion. Alternatively, we can acquire the ghostwriter's loyalty. Your directive is awaited.
I leaned back, a cold admiration spreading through me.
She wasn't just obedient. She was creative. She'd taken my command and run with it, offering strategic options.
This was better than I'd dreamed.
I hit reply.
To: Kasia
Action: Ghostwriter. Secure his loyalty. Use my funds if necessary. Offer him double Kozlov's rate to delay delivery of the next three battle chapters until after launch week. Non-negotiable.
I didn't want to destroy Kozlov. Not yet. I wanted to hobble him. Make his big launch stumble. Let him watch as my own star burned brighter.
It was more cruel.
I sent the email. A transfer of twenty thousand dollars to Kasia's "operational fund" followed from my offshore account.
The System pinged as I did.
Not for a contract. For a Milestone.
[MILESTONE ACHIEVED: ACQUIRE A WILLING HUMAN ASSET]
[REWARD: SKILL SYNCHRONIZATION (LOW)]
[DESCRIPTION: You may now sense vague emotional states (stress, loyalty, deception) from individuals you have directly compelled or who are in your permanent employ. Range: 50 meters.]
A new skill. A passive one. For management.
The System was evolving with my empire.
An hour later, Kasia replied.
Ghostwriter secured. Payment delivered. Chapters will be 'unavoidably delayed.' Kozlov will be notified Monday.
Perfect.
I spent the morning writing. Reader's Insight showed my latest chapter was nearly solid green. I was in the zone.
At noon, my phone buzzed. A notification from Fistoria.
New Contract Offer: FISTORIA PLATFORM EXCLUSIVE (SILVER-TIER).
My breath hitched. Silver. The next tier.
I opened it. The terms were a leap. A 75/25 split in my favor. A significant advance. Guaranteed featuring for a month. In exchange, I couldn't publish "Chronos Imperium" anywhere else for one year.
It was the deal I'd been grinding for.
The blue hologram appeared.
[TENSEI SYSTEM: CONTRACT DETECTED]
[CONTRACT: FISTORIA PLATFORM EXCLUSIVE - TIER: SILVER]
[ANALYSIS: FAVORABLE. SIGNATURE WILL INITIATE MAJOR REWARD PROTOCOL.]
[SIGN TO ACCEPT? Y/N]
This was it. The true level-up.
I mentally pressed Y.
The hologram flashed a brilliant, sustained silver.
[CONTRACT TIER: SILVER - SIGNED.]
[INITIATING REWARD PROTOCOL…]
[CALCULATING…]
The progress bar was ornate, trimmed in silver light.
It filled.
[REWARD 1: CAPITAL INJECTION - $250,000.00 USD]
A quarter of a million dollars. It hit my account. The balance now read $378,451.19.
The numbers were becoming abstract. Just power points.
[REWARD 2: RANDOM SKILL ROLL INITIATED…]
The slot machine in my mind spun, symbols a blur of silver and gold.
It landed on an icon of a tangled web.
[SKILL UNLOCKED: SOCIAL WEB SIGHT]
[DESCRIPTION: Once per day, you may visually map the social/professional connections of a single individual you can see. See key relationships: allies, adversaries, debts, secrets (hinted as 'strained' or 'strong' lines). Duration: 5 minutes.]
A spy skill. Incredible.
The hologram faded. I was alone with my wealth and my new arsenal.
I went to school that afternoon a ghost. My body was present. My mind was in the clouds, ruling.
In history class, I felt a faint, new sensation. A pulse from the Skill Synchronization.
I looked at Marcin, the bully. I felt nothing from him. Just blank noise.
But when I passed the principal, Pan Dąbrowski, I felt a dull, constant wave of stress/anxiety.
The skill was working.
After school, I checked the Fistoria ranking. I was still #1.
Kozlov's page showed his launch countdown. Six days.
His ghostwriter was now my sleeper agent.
My phone buzged. A message from an unknown number.
Unknown: The asset is nervous. He asks for reassurance.
Me: Tell him his mother's next medical bill is paid. An anonymous donor.
Unknown: Understood. It will be done.
Kasia. Operating in the shadows.
I put the phone away. The sun was setting, casting long shadows.
I had a loyal editor. A quarter-million dollars. A suite of increasingly powerful skills. And a rival about to walk into a trap he couldn't see.
The grind wasn't a struggle anymore.
It was a rhythm.
And I was the conductor.
I started walking home, a plan for the next phase already crystallizing in my mind.
The king was on his throne.
And his court was taking shape.
//-\\
To my fellow authors in the trenches:
They told us we weren't good enough. They sent the cold, automated emails. "Not a fit for our current line-up." "Lacks marketability."
Every time you see Alex Thorn crush an editor in this story, remember: this isn't just fiction.
This is the scream of every writer who stayed up until 3:00 AM pouring their soul into a document that the world ignored. It is for everyone who has ever struggled with low reads, low reviews, low comments, and those painful, stagnant low collections that make you want to quit.
The gatekeepers are human. They are flawed. And in the digital age, they are becoming obsolete.
They sit in their comfortable chairs judging worlds they could never even imagine, let alone build. They look at spreadsheets while we look at the stars.
We don't write for the approval of a corporate board in a glass office. We write for the person scrolling on their phone at a bus stop, looking for a world better than their own.
We write for the ones who need an escape from a life that feels like a dead end.
If you have a manuscript sitting in a folder named "Draft 1" that you're too afraid to post—post it right now.
Stop waiting for permission to exist. If you've been rejected ten times, go for the eleventh. Use their "No" as fuel for your fire.
Alex Thorn had to die to get his second chance. You don't. You just have to keep typing until your fingers bleed and your vision blurs. The industry thinks they hold the keys. They forgot that we are the ones who build the doors in the first place.
Let them call us "cringe." Let them call us "amateurs." While they talk, we build. While they judge, we evolve into something they can't control.
Current Motivation Level: 11%
Next Level: +1%
If this chapter resonated with you, drop a comment. Tell me about the time a gatekeeper told you "No."
ALL HELL FROM WEBNOVEL STARTS FROM YOU!
— A.T.