"I want to retire."
Vael leaned back against the grand obsidian throne, fingers idly tracing the golden engravings along the armrest. For centuries, he had occupied this seat, orchestrating tragedies, betrayals, and despair—all in service of the Gods. Yet tonight, for the first time in his existence as a system, he was stepping down.
Across from him, lounging atop a floating crescent of shimmering stardust, Nyxara observed him with an unreadable expression. The goddess of spectacle and suffering, she had always been one of his greatest admirers, delighting in the stories he wove and the torment he inflicted.
She sighed dramatically, her golden eyes glimmering with amusement. "Retirement, Vael? Really?" She swirled a glass of divine ichor, the liquid shifting colors like molten galaxies. "And here I thought you'd never tire of making your little main characters suffer. The other Gods will be so disappointed."
Vael smirked, resting his chin on his palm. "What can I say? My work here is done. I've fulfilled my duty."
Nyxara arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Duty?" She laughed, the sound like the chime of distant bells. "Oh, darling, let's not pretend you weren't enjoying every second of it."
Vael chuckled. He wasn't about to deny it. After all, he had been one of the best. A system both feared and revered, crafting tragedies so compelling even the Gods paused their feasts to watch. But even the greatest performers knew when to take their final bow.
Nyxara set down her glass, her expression shifting ever so slightly. "Enjoy your little paradise then," she mused. "But don't get too lost in relaxation, Vael. The story never truly ends."
Vael tilted his head, amusement flickering in his crimson gaze. "Is that a threat?" he asked, his tone light, though a thread of uncertainty curled in his gut. 'Why does it feel like she's hinting at something?'
Nyxara smirked, her silence stretching just a moment too long. Before he could press her, a golden screen materialized before him, its radiant glow reflecting in his now-darkened irises.
[System Vael – Status: RETIRED]
[Access to Haeven Granted]
A low hum filled the space as the divine mechanism processed his transition. A strange sensation coursed through him—a disconnect, like the severing of an unseen tether. And then, something changed.
His eyes.
For as long as he had been a system, his irises had burned with a bright, artificial green—the mark of those who governed the Narraverse. But now, as he caught his reflection in the golden system panel, that light faded, replaced with a deep, blood-red hue.
A system without a system's eyes.
Vael exhaled, pushing aside the odd sense of unease as the world around him shifted.
He was no longer in the celestial halls of the Gods.
Now, he stood before a gate.
Massive, ethereal, glowing with divine radiance, its golden arches stretched beyond the sky, embedded with inscriptions of every system that had ever ascended. Haeven.
An exclusive paradise, reserved only for the most exceptional systems—those who had entertained the Gods to their satisfaction. While lesser souls and failed systems faded into the void, those who reached Haeven transcended. No more objectives. No more directives. Just eternity in leisure.
'Finally, I can rest.'
Vael stepped forward, watching as the gates slowly began to open, spilling golden light into the void. The warmth of divinity washed over him—an irresistible invitation into paradise.
He took a step inside.
Then, everything changed.
The warmth vanished. The light fractured, flickering like a broken screen. The golden brilliance pixelated, turning black—like ink bleeding through parchment.
"What the fuck?"
Vael's breath hitched as the world collapsed. The gates behind him? Gone. The divine radiance? Erased.
Instead of stepping into Haeven, he found himself in a place that shouldn't have existed.
"Where...am I?"
A forest.
The air was thick with humidity, the scent of damp earth filling his lungs. Trees loomed around him, their jagged, gnarled branches twisting toward a sky that flickered between reality and distortion.
He looked down.
His once-pristine system uniform—gone.
In its place? Tattered rags. His fingers curled over the fabric, his mind racing. This setting, this shift, this entire scene—it was eerily familiar. It felt like…
No.
It was almost as if he was—
A soft chime echoed.
Vael froze. His heart pounded in his chest.
A system notification flickered into existence before him, its familiar glowing text materializing in the air.
[System Loading…]
His blood ran cold.
The text glitched, flickered—then finally, it stabilized.
[Welcome, Vael.]
Vael's breath came sharp and uneven as he stared at the message.
Welcome?
Not Administrator. Not Overseer. Not System Vael.
Just Vael.
"Is this some sort of prank?" Vael said aloud, hoping that Nyxara would show herself and laugh.
There was laughter, but it wasn't Nyxara.
It was male.
A slow, deliberate chuckle. One that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Show yourself," Vael demanded, his voice sharp. "Do you know who I am?"
"Of course, I do." The voice was amused, mocking. "I know exactly who you are."
'That voice…' Vael's brows furrowed. It was familiar—too familiar. But he couldn't place it.
[Main Character Information:]
Name: Vael
Status: Former System
Age: Unknown
"Main character information? What a fucking joke. Former systems cannot be main characters, it's part of the law—"
His words cut off.
A pair of green eyes appeared in front of him, luminous in the dim light.
Slowly, a tall figure stepped forward, emerging from the shadows.
And it wasn't just any figure.
Vael's breath caught in his throat as recognition slammed into him like a tidal wave.
"You…!" His eyes widened as the man's form fully manifested before him—clad in the signature uniform of a system, his green eyes gleaming with quiet menace.
"Choi Mingyu?!"
The man smiled—a grim, knowing curve of his lips. "It's actually System Orion now."
'System...Orion?' Vael's stomach dropped.
A sharp pain lanced through Vael's head, a sudden rush of memories—faces twisted in agony, voices crying out in despair, echoes of the stories he had once written.
The realization struck him like a hammer.
Then, before he could react, another notification materialized in the air.
[SYSTEM UPDATE: Start of PROLOGUE]
[Generating Starting Scenario…]
'I'm in a fucking story?!'