one day I wrote my comments on the novel that abandoned for 5 years
"why did you stop writing this novel it is good, I ussaly don't not comment on anything but this novel has everything , reggrestion, dungeon , towers etc why why why why why why why
I cant even curse you properly your reader rishitha "
maybe because of this, it has started everything silent after
When I opened my eyes, everything hurt. The world around me was blurry, like a smudge on a canvas, and every inch of my body screamed with pain. My head throbbed with an almost unbearable rhythm, and my chest felt as if a thousand pounds were pressing down on it. A metallic taste lingered in my mouth, and the air smelled of burnt rubber and gasoline, sharp and choking. There was a ringing in my ears, louder than anything I had ever known.
I tried to breathe, but the weight on my chest made it impossible. My vision cleared just enough for me to make out the figure lying across me. It was Rajesh—my eldest brother—his arm wrapped protectively around my shoulder as if he'd thrown himself over me to shield me. His glasses were cracked in two, and his face was far too still, too pale.
"Anna?" My voice barely made it past my throat, dry and rough like sandpaper. I tried to move, but Rajesh's weight kept me pinned. My muscles screamed in protest. "Rajesh, wake up."
But there was no response.
Panic surged in my chest. I twisted my head, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through my neck, and that's when I saw him—Arjun. His arm was still outstretched toward me, frozen mid-reach. I could almost hear his voice, the teasing, the laughter that was supposed to fill our days. But his face... his face was so pale, lifeless.
"Arjun!" My voice cracked. My hands, trembling uncontrollably, reached for Rajesh, shaking his shoulder harder. "Please, wake up! You're scaring me!"
But still, nothing.
I blinked rapidly, trying to focus through the haze of blood and fear. Aarav, my youngest brother, was slumped against the windshield. Blood trailed down his temple, painting the glass in an eerie streak. His phone was still gripped in his hand. My eyes travelled from his hand to the shattered pieces of his screen, the weight of the situation sinking in, but my mind refused to finish the thought.
No. I couldn't think about that.
"Amma!" My heart nearly shattered as I turned toward the backseat. My mother's once vibrant form sat slumped against the seat, motionless. Her saree was soaked with blood, the bright red a stark contrast against the muted darkness around us. Her tray of ladoos lay scattered across the floor, crushed and broken, the sweets a cruel reminder of what was lost.
"Amma, please, say something. You promised we'd have ladoos together, remember? You said you'd make sure I ate enough for two lifetimes!" My voice cracked with desperation.
But no response. None of them moved.
The weight of it all felt like a hundred-ton boulder pressing down on my chest. The air seemed to thicken, suffocating me. I shoved at Rajesh, trying to escape his lifeless hold. My limbs were weak, but I scrambled out of the car, gasping for air, my heart hammering in my chest. The cold night air hit my skin, burning my lungs with each desperate breath.
"Appa!" I turned to the driver's seat, my hands shaking as I reached for my father. His body was slumped over the wheel, and the car horn blared in a never-ending scream as if it too was mourning the loss. "Appa, please! You've driven this road a hundred times. Nothing ever happens here. Nothing!"
Tears blurred my vision as I reached for my phone, still in my pocket, cracked but still functional. My fingers were unsteady, slipping as I tried to dial for help. The phone felt like a foreign object in my hand, an anchor to a reality that was slipping away.
"Hello? Ambulance!" My voice broke as the words tumbled out. "There's been an accident—my family—they're not waking up! Please! Please come quickly!"
I didn't wait for a response. The phone slipped from my fingers, forgotten as I crawled back into the wreckage.
"Rajesh, you promised. You said you'd always protect me." My voice came out in a whisper, breaking under the weight of it all. "Arjun, you always said I was too much, but you said you'd never leave me. Aarav, you promised to teach me that stupid game of yours. You all promised!"
I turned to my mother, gripping her bloodstained saree, tears staining my face. "Amma, you never lied to me. You can't start now. Wake up. Please."
My cries grew louder, more frantic, as I called out their names over and over until my throat was raw and my words lost meaning. But still, no one responded.
Time passed. How long? I didn't know. It was like the world had stopped, and all that was left was the echo of my voice and the distant sounds of sirens that seemed to come from another life.
When the ambulance finally arrived, I could barely register it. The paramedics rushed toward us, moving swiftly but with faces that seemed too grim. Someone gently pulled me away from the wreckage, their touch distant, clinical.
"Are you hurt?" A paramedic asked softly, but I shook my head, my eyes glued to my family.
"Help them," I pleaded my voice barely a whisper. "They protected me. They made sure I didn't... Please, help them!"
I watched as they worked. Their movements were quick, and efficient, but their eyes... their eyes spoke of the truth I already knew. My family was gone. They had shielded me, given everything to keep me safe—and now they were gone.
Someone put a hand on my shoulder, a fleeting moment of comfort in the endless sea of cold.
"I'm so sorry," they murmured.
I sank to my knees, my body trembling uncontrollably. The world had gone silent. My family, my whole world—was covered in white sheets, taken away by fate.
And I was left here. Alone.
My name is Rishitha. It means "best," "saintly," and "learned." I've always been told that from the moment I could understand words. My mother gave me this name so I could live up to these ideals—to learn everything, to be the best, to never be insulted like she was, and to become a strong, independent woman. She said it was a gift, a blessing.
But sometimes, I wonder if it's a curse.
Because here I am, 20 years old, feeling like an outcast. My name may have meant something to her, but to me, it's just a reminder of everything I can't seem to live up to. It's a reminder of the loneliness I carry inside me every day—the bullying, the insults, the laughter behind my back. I've been labelled "dumb," the girl who can't even speak her mother tongue properly.
I can't remember the last time I felt seen, the last time someone didn't make me feel small. No, not small—worthless.
This is me, in a nutshell. Rishitha, 20, a graduate of Marri Laxman Reddy College—a third-rate college, if we're being honest—and still searching for a job. I spend my days dancing, trying to escape reality, and reading wedding novels. I find solace in those pages, in those fantasies where love, happiness, and success feel possible. Maybe that's all I'll ever have—fiction.
But today, something's different.
I was in a car accident just moments ago. The crash still echoes in my mind—the shattering glass, the screech of tyres, the scent of burning rubber filling my nostrils. It all happened so fast, too fast for me to even comprehend. But now... now I'm somewhere else.
I open my eyes, and the first thing I notice is the overwhelming darkness. It's cold, suffocating—like being buried alive. The air feels thick and stale, pressing against my lungs. It's as though the very space I'm in is pushing me down, trying to keep me trapped. I can feel the chill seep into my bones, a stark contrast to the warmth of the car I was in just moments ago.
There's no light, no sense of direction. Just shadows, like something lurking just out of reach.
Then, a voice.
[Host detected.]
I freeze, my breath hitching in my throat.
[Initiating abandoned novel corrector system.]
My heart races, my head spinning as I try to make sense of the words. They sound like they're echoing in my mind, each word sharp, metallic, like the sound of metal scraping against metal. It doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense.
I want to scream. I want to run. But I can't move, can't speak, can't breathe. The world around me feels like it's slipping away like I'm falling further into some void, and I can't find the ground.
[Main Mission]
[The characters have gone haywire. Your mission is to correct the characters' paths one by one and put them back on the right track so the story can continue. If you fail, the world will collapse with you along with it. And if you succeed, you can turn back time—save your parents.]
The words hit me like a cold wave, crashing over my head, drowning out everything else. Save my parents? Turn back time? Is this some kind of joke?
I feel my pulse quicken. My mind is racing, trying to piece together what this means. The voice in my head keeps repeating the mission, the stakes.
[To turn back in time: 1 second = 100 million points, 1 minute = 6 billion points, 1 hour = 360 billion points]
The cold, metallic voice continues as if the gravity of what it's saying doesn't matter. But it matters to me. I stare into the endless blackness, trying to grasp what it all means.
Am I supposed to fix a broken story? Am I some kind of... character in a novel? How does that even make sense? My parents—was that a dream? Was I even in a car accident at all?
My thoughts are interrupted as the robotic voice chimes in once more, its words ringing with finality.
[Mission Countdown: Undefined]
[Good luck, Host.]
I feel the weight of it all. The mission, the failure, the pressure. It presses down on me, heavier than anything I've ever felt. I want to scream, to shout at the sky, but nothing comes out. I feel small—smaller than I've ever felt. I'm not in control. I don't even know where I am.
But one thing is clear—this is my new reality.
I don't know how I got here. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. All I know is that if I don't act, everything will fall apart. And I'll be caught in the wreckage.
Maybe this is my chance to finally be something more. To prove my worth, to be the person I've always wanted to be. But I can't ignore the nagging feeling deep down inside me—the price of this could be more than I'm willing to pay.
I sit in the dark, trapped between fear and determination. The stakes are higher than I could have ever imagined. And I'm just one person, trying to fix a broken world.
The forest was unlike any place I had ever seen. Towering trees loomed above me, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal arms, grasping for something—maybe the sky, maybe the secrets that lay hidden within this strange, forsaken world. The air was thick with the scent of moss and damp soil, a sharp contrast to the clean, sterile smell of the hospital I'd left behind. But it was all wrong. Everything felt wrong.
I took a step, feeling the crunch of dry leaves beneath my feet. My heart raced, not from the movement, but from the sheer uncertainty of what lay ahead. Where was I? What was I supposed to do here? Was this a dream? No, I couldn't keep convincing myself it was just a nightmare. This—whatever this was—was real.
Behind me, Mo Tong and Ragith were bickering quietly, their voices a mixture of annoyance and something darker. I turned to look at them, trying to distract myself from the panic that was steadily creeping up my spine. But the moment I turned, Mo Tong's eyes caught mine, and for a moment, I saw something flicker in them—something like a challenge.
"You seem quiet," she said, her voice laced with mock curiosity. "Not gonna cry like the others?"
Her words cut deeper than I cared to admit. I wasn't going to cry. I couldn't. But the truth was, I didn't know how to respond. Crying felt like giving up, but doing nothing felt like dying slowly.
"Leave her alone, Mo Tong," Ragith muttered, his eyes scanning the dense undergrowth with a sharp, calculating gaze. He wasn't looking at me, but I could tell he wasn't on my side, either. "Focus on the mission. We don't have time for distractions."
Their words barely registered in my mind as the reality of my situation sank in deeper. This was it. This was my mission. The abandoned novel. The system. The collapsing world. If I failed—if I didn't succeed at whatever this mission was—I would die with it. And something inside me—the quiet, terrified part that I refused to acknowledge—wondered if that wouldn't be the best thing.
But I couldn't give up. Not yet.
I walked a little further into the forest, trying to steady my breathing. The trees around me were so thick it was impossible to see anything beyond them. Every now and then, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned, there was nothing. It was as if the forest itself was alive, watching, waiting for something.
I stopped, my feet sinking slightly into the damp earth as I turned back to Mo Tong and Ragith. They had already moved ahead, their steps light and sure, as if they were used to this world, as if it wasn't terrifying for them. I envied that confidence.
"Hey!" I called out, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "What is this place? Why are we here?"
Mo Tong glanced over her shoulder, her expression a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "You really don't know?" she asked, her voice sharp. "This is where we earn our powers. The forest is the first test. Only those who are strong enough will make it to the next chapter. If you're weak, you'll get left behind."
Her words stung. I felt the weight of her gaze, but I refused to let it show. I wasn't weak. I couldn't afford to be.
"But," she continued, her voice almost too sweet, "I wouldn't expect much from you. You look like a lamb in a lion's den."
The insult hit its mark. I clenched my fists, the nails digging into my palms as I tried to calm the storm brewing inside me. No, I wouldn't let her—any of them—define me.
Ragith, who had been silent up until now, turned and gave me a cold, measured look. "Focus, Rishitha. This isn't a playground. We're not here to babysit you."
I bristled at his words. "I'm not a child."
He didn't respond, only turned back toward the path, his eyes scanning the horizon as if he already knew what was coming. I stared at his back for a moment longer, trying to decipher his intentions, but the deeper I looked, the more I realized he was a mystery I didn't want to solve.
I turned away, trying to block out their presence as best as I could. The forest seemed to close in around me, and I had to force myself to keep moving. One foot in front of the other.
As we walked deeper into the woods, a low hum filled the air. The sound was faint at first, but it grew louder with every step. I felt it vibrating in my bones, a constant, almost maddening noise that made my head spin.
"What is that?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mo Tong's lips curved into a wicked smile. "That's the sound of your failure coming for you."
I froze. "What does that mean?"
"It means," she said, her voice suddenly quiet and intense, "that the system is watching. If we fail, if we don't complete our mission, we'll be erased. You don't get second chances here, Rishitha. Not for someone like you."
I swallowed hard, trying to push down the surge of fear threatening to overtake me. I wasn't like her. I didn't come from a family with power. I wasn't part of an established guild. I wasn't a villain with a hidden agenda.
But in this world, none of that mattered. I was just another player in a game where I didn't even know the rules.
The path ahead twisted and turned, the trees thickening as we ventured deeper. My heart pounded in my chest, the noise of the forest filling my ears. I couldn't escape it—the weight of what I was about to face.
"Hey," Mo Tong called, her voice suddenly too close. I turned to find her standing right beside me, her eyes gleaming with a strange intensity. "I know what you're thinking. You want to go home. But trust me, you don't have that luxury. You're here, and you'll do your part. Or you'll die trying."
Her words were like ice, creeping under my skin and settling deep within me. I was trapped. Trapped in a world where survival meant bending to its rules, where failure wasn't just a disappointment—it was annihilation.
I couldn't go back. I couldn't fail.
I had to fix this. For myself. For the world. For something more than just survival.
And I didn't know how, but somehow, I would find a way.
The air grew denser as I moved through the forest, my footsteps barely making a sound as I walked behind Mo Tong and Ragith. The towering trees cast long, twisted shadows across the path, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky as if trying to reach beyond the veil of this world. The weight of uncertainty pressed heavily on my chest, the hum of something unseen vibrating through the air, as though the very forest was alive, waiting for something to happen.
I couldn't take the silence any longer. I needed to understand what was going on.
"Mo Tong," I called out, my voice cutting through the tension between us. She glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. "Can you tell me more about the talent awakening mission?"
She didn't hesitate, her tone flat, almost disinterested. "Talent awakening, huh? The global system gives missions to people, but for now, we seem to be in a story mission. The rules are different here."
"Story mission?" I repeated, the words barely making sense. I was still trying to wrap my mind around everything. The system, the novel, the mission. It all felt like too much.
She nodded, her gaze fixed ahead as she continued walking. "Yeah, in a talent awakening mission, you're supposed to get your abilities unlocked, climb up the ranks, and become a stronger version of yourself. There's a system for that, a global ranking. The higher your rank, the harder the missions."
"But what do you mean by story mission?" I asked, trying to push past the confusion. My mind raced as I tried to piece things together.
Mo Tong slowed her pace, but didn't stop. "In a story mission, you're not just awakening your talent. You're part of a bigger plot. A script, if you will. A predetermined set of events that must unfold in a certain way. You're playing a role in the story, but it's not just about you. It's about the world, about the characters, and making sure the plot moves forward. There's no room for mistakes."
I swallowed hard. "So, we're like... actors in someone else's story?"
"In a way," she replied, her voice tinged with a mix of bitterness and indifference. "Except if you mess up, you don't just fail the scene. You destroy everything. And this world? This world is far from forgiving."
I stopped walking, letting her words sink in. If I was part of a story—a novel—did that mean I was a character? And if I was, what was my role? Was I the heroine, the villain, or just someone stuck in the middle, doomed to fail?
I looked around, my heart thumping faster as the eerie forest seemed to close in around me. The trees whispered in the wind, their branches swaying like old, forgotten memories.
"What exactly is the mission?" I asked again, unable to push aside the fear and confusion gnawing at me.
Mo Tong paused, glancing back at me with a small, almost amused smile. "In simple terms? The mission is divided into main and sub-categories. Dungeon missions, story missions, tower missions, wild survival ones, and more. Each one's difficulty is ranked from 1 to 5. The higher the number, the harder it is. The more you accomplish, the more your rank increases. It's a global system. The stakes are high, and the reward is even higher. But," she added with a slight smirk, "you'll find it's not all about power. Sometimes it's about survival."
Her words hung in the air, and I could feel the weight of them press down on my chest. The difficulty of these missions, the system, the ranking—it all felt like a game, but one with no clear rules, no safety net.
"Does it always work like that?" I asked, suddenly desperate to understand. "The missions, the ranking… does everyone follow the same path?"
Mo Tong nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Everyone starts from the same place, but not everyone follows the same path. Some people focus on power, some on strategy. Some just want to survive. But what you need to understand, Rishitha, is that the system doesn't care about your past or your dreams. It only cares about whether you can complete your mission. Fail, and you're wiped out. Simple as that."
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. If this was really a mission, if I was really part of some bigger game, how would I survive? Would I even make it out alive?
I looked at her, trying to find some flicker of reassurance, but all I saw was the same cold indifference she had worn since we first met. Mo Tong wasn't here to be my friend. She was here for herself, and maybe, if I was lucky, she'd toss me a bone along the way.
Ragith, who had been walking silently ahead, finally turned to us. His face was an unreadable mask, his eyes scanning the horizon. "Stop asking questions. We don't have time for explanations," he said, his voice low and sharp. "If you want answers, you'll earn them. But first, we need to get to the mountain. We're close."
My stomach dropped. The mountain. That was where the mission started, according to Mo Tong.
I glanced at her, hoping for more details, but she simply nodded in Ragith's direction.
"Time's running out, Rishitha. Get moving," she said with a dismissive wave.
I took a deep breath and nodded, forcing my legs to move forward. Each step I took into the dense, shadowed forest felt like a step deeper into a nightmare I had no control over.
But there was no turning back now.