Chapter 1: Anomalies in the Code

The evening sun cast long shadows across the bustling city of Meridian, where towering skyscrapers stood like sentinels over its inhabitants. Amidst the crowd of faces, one figure stood out, though no one gave him a second glance. For all intents and purposes, he was just another person lost in the sea of anonymity. However, if one were to look closer—if they were to truly see—they'd realize something was profoundly off about him.

His name was Quinn Holloway, though in another life, in another reality, he wasn't anyone at all. He was what the system labeled an NPC, a non-player character, meant to fill the background of someone else's story. But now? Now, Quinn was no longer bound to the script, and he was starting to realize that something was terribly wrong with his world.

"Alright, Mr. Holloway," a voice called out, startling Quinn from his thoughts. A burly officer stood before him, arms crossed, and eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You've been standing at that crosswalk for over an hour. You waiting for something specific, or just sightseeing?"

Quinn blinked. He hadn't even realized how long he'd been there. The question sounded absurd to him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching everything like an outsider.

"I... just lost track of time," he muttered, offering a sheepish smile. Inside, though, his mind raced. It had started with the glitches—people moving in repetitive loops, conversations stuttering like scratched records.

The officer shrugged, clearly uninterested in his excuse. "Move along, then. Don't want to be late for... whatever you're supposed to be doing." His voice trailed off, and for the briefest moment, the officer's expression froze, as if his mind had hit a roadblock.

Quinn's heart pounded. He's glitching too. This wasn't the first time he'd seen it. People were malfunctioning more and more frequently, especially when they interacted with him. He had no real memory of being someone else, but the flashes—visions of himself following unseen orders—haunted him.

As Quinn walked through the busy streets, his mind raced. If I'm just an NPC, why am I aware of it? That question gnawed at him constantly. His existence was meant to be simple, mundane, designed to fit within the constraints of a world he wasn't supposed to question. And yet, here he was, questioning everything.

His steps took him to an old bookstore tucked away in the city's quieter streets. The bell chimed softly as he entered, and the scent of old paper filled the air. This was where he'd found the journal—a worn, leather-bound book that shouldn't have existed in this world. Its pages were filled with arcane symbols and diagrams, none of which made sense to him. Yet, somehow, he felt a pull toward it, as though the book itself was calling him.

The owner, a frail old man with glasses perched on the tip of his nose, greeted him with a nod. "Back again, are you? Still looking for answers in that dusty old thing?" he asked, his voice carrying an edge of curiosity.

Quinn placed the journal on the counter. "I think it's more than just an old book. I think it's trying to tell me something."

The old man chuckled. "Books tell us many things, but not always the answers we seek."

Quinn flipped through the pages, stopping at a familiar passage. The symbols glowed faintly, as if reacting to his touch. His heart skipped a beat. This was real—more real than anything else in his life. The aura of magic surrounding the symbols swirled and pulsed like a heartbeat. He was drawn to it, though he didn't fully understand why.

"It's happening again," Quinn muttered, almost to himself. "People are glitching. And it's getting worse."

The old man's smile faltered. His gaze sharpened, suddenly far more intense than before. "Perhaps they're not the only ones glitching."

Quinn's breath caught in his throat. "What do you mean?"

The old man's eyes darted to the journal. "The world isn't what you think it is, young man. It never has been. You're noticing the anomalies because you were never meant to be aware in the first place. You've broken free from your script. And now… well, the system is trying to compensate."

Quinn stared at the journal, the glowing symbols casting eerie reflections on his face. "So what do I do? I can't just go back to being… nothing."

"Then don't," the old man said simply. "If you've truly become aware, then you've already begun to alter your own narrative. The system might try to reset you, but it's not invincible. There are others like you, Quinn. You just need to find them."

The weight of the old man's words hung in the air. Others? Like him?

For the first time, hope flickered inside him. Maybe he wasn't alone. Maybe this strange reality, filled with glitches and anomalies, was only the beginning.

Clutching the journal tightly, Quinn stepped back into the street, determined to uncover the truth of his existence. He was no longer content to be a bystander in someone else's story.

From now on, Quinn Holloway would write his own.