The night was eerily silent as the man stood alone, the distant neon lights painting his figure in sickly hues of red and blue. His hand trembled over his pen, his ink-stained fingers twitching with unease. His heartbeat thundered in his chest as the realization sank in.
"I was wrong..."
His voice was barely a whisper, lost in the cold air.
"She's not fiction anymore…"
A memory burned itself into his mind the way Yara moved, the way her silence carried weight, the way she never hesitated, not like a character bound by ink, colors and imagination or anything else. No. She wasn't just a creation anymore.
"She's a real person…"
His breath quickened, his pupils dilating.
"I HAVE TO KILL HER. KILL HER!"
A void swallowed him.
In an instant, reality around him fractured.
His surroundings ripped apart, dissolving into static. His body warped, thrown into an unknown abyss.
And then.
He landed.
A domain.
A void filled with countless screens, each one displaying scenes, deaths, rewinds every possibility imaginable.
Some showed his own past, some displayed Yara's countless battles and trauma, while others..
He clenched his fists, rage bubbling in his veins.
This wasn't reality.
It was something worse.
Then, he felt it.
Two presences.
He turned sharply, his eyes locking onto a figure standing atop a raised platform.
A tall entity, its form flickering like a glitching god, shifting between human and something far beyond comprehension.
Its gender was incomplete, undefined.
And yet, its presence dominated the space.
The Narrator.
"Well, well, well."
Its voice carried amusement, yet beneath it lurked something dangerous.
"I won't let you try killing my TRUE main protagonist of this story, Mr. Unfinished Subject."
The man's jaw tightened.
A manic grin stretched across his face, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists.
"Finally…"
The air around him crackled with power, his rage manifesting in waves of energy.
"I FUCKING FOUND YOU!!!"
His breathing grew erratic, his entire body tensed, every fiber of his being screaming for him to attack.
But then-
The Narrator moved slightly, placing a hand on a small figure standing beside it.
A girl.
She barely reached its waist.
Her short frame made her seem harmless, almost childlike, yet there was something unsettlingly calm about her.
Her hair was a mix of pure white and jet-black bangs, her eyes dull, unbothered by the storm of emotions unraveling in front of her.
"Let me introduce you to my new 'puppet'…"
The Narrator's hand gently patted the girl's head.
"Zephyra."
The man's blood boiled.
His aura flared violently, his rage manifesting into monstrous energy.
"I'M GONNA OBLITERATE YOU, ANONYMOUS X!!!"
With a roar, he unleashed his ability.
Ink surged from his fingertips, monsters and warriors rising from the pages of his story that the Narrator had.. Abandoned.
Demons with jagged smiles.
Swordsmen with cursed blades.
A storm of his own creations.
They swarmed toward the Narrator and Zephyra, their roars shaking the void.
And then.
Zephyra sighed.
The moment she blinked.
The ink beasts froze.
Then-
Shattered.
Their forms crumbled into static, erased from existence before they could even move.
His eyes widened.
Zephyra tilted her head, uninterested.
She turned toward the Narrator, silently awaiting orders.
The Narrator smirked.
"Go on.. Zephyra."
She nodded, then raised her hand.
The man's body convulsed.
A horrifying sensation surged through him, his mind screaming as something inside him was ripped away.
His power.
His creation ability.
Gone.
Forever.
His knees buckled.
He fell to the ground, gasping.
His monsters were no more.
His power had been erased.
Zephyra walked back to the Narrator, calmly sitting on its lap like a child awaiting praise.
The Narrator chuckled, ruffling her hair.
"Good girl."
The man's breaths were ragged.
His hands trembled, pressing against his shoulder to stop the bleeding.
But his eyes…
His eyes burned with hatred.
"Hey… bastard."
His voice was hoarse, but the venom in his tone was undeniable.
"I wasn't done."
He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the blood dripping from his arm.
His glare pierced through the Narrator.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU REALLY THINKING?!"
His voice shook the void.
"You.. THE NARRATOR, THE AUTHOR! Conflicted trauma, PTSD, chaos, deaths everything you can imagine. You did all of that! In my abandoned manga, you…"
His chest heaved.
"You FUCKING did EVERYTHING."
His fingers dug into his palm, his nails drawing blood.
"DO YOU EVEN FUCKING KNOW HOW MUCH PAIN, HOW MUCH PTSD I'VE GONE THROUGHOUT IN MY OWN STORY?!?"
The Narrator said nothing.
Zephyra blinked, watching the man with unreadable eyes.
He took a shuddering breath, his voice turning raw.
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT EVERYTHING THAT'S BEEN GOING ON?!? NOTHING!"
His rage boiled over, his body shaking.
"This war… this chaos… everything that YOU fucking bastard did…"
His eyes burned, filled with years of agony.
"DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH PAIN?!? HOW MUCH TRAUMA!? AND SUFFERING YOU'VE CONFLICTED ON EVERYONE INCLUDING ME?!?"
The void shuddered.
His voice echoed across the endless screens, the weight of his suffering bleeding into the very fabric of the domain.
"IT'S BEEN ENDLESS PAIN. ENDLESS POSSIBILITIES IF WE'RE EVEN CAPABLE OF KILLING YOUR ELITE FORCES."
His breathing grew heavy.
He glared, the last remnants of his strength holding him up.
"IT'S. IMPOSSIBLE!"
His hands clenched at his sides.
"You can rewrite us. You can erase us. You can redefine who we are."
His voice trembled.
"But even if you erase my power…"
He grinned through the blood dripping from his lips.
"I'll... Fucking find a way to tear you apart into shreds."
The Narrator smiled.
"...Pathetic."
Zephyra simply watched.
And the fight continued.
---
Thanks for 1.76k views on this book! Even though this book is pretty bad plot in my opinion, this is the end of Volume one, Thank you all for reading, I'm gonna get a break from this book (One week), Now I can finally work on my other books..