"You… you're not supposed to be here."
The hero's glowing eyes burned into me, his golden sword humming with barely restrained power. His grip tightened, knuckles turning white. The air crackled around him, thick with an unnatural pressure.
This wasn't how the story was meant to go.
"Neither are you." His voice was low, edged with menace. He took a step forward, the ground beneath him cracking under his sheer presence. His gaze locked onto me—not with confusion, not with recognition—
but with rage.
"Author."
My breath hitched. That word. The way he spat it—like an accusation. Like a sentence of death.
I shouldn't be here.
And yet, somehow, I was.
---
Flashback.
In the world I created, there was one absolute truth—
The hero always wins. The villain always loses.
That was the foundation of my novel. That was the rule. Because, let's be honest, who really cares about the villain?
I always loved overpowered protagonists—flawless, unbeatable, gods among men. The villain? Just a stepping stone. A disposable obstacle. That's why I made him weak, incompetent, and doomed from the start.
And now, here I was, typing the latest chapter of my novel:
[The Villain is Doomed by the Hero in Every Way.]
A massive hit. Thousands of readers. Daily discussions online. Fans are obsessed with the hero's power. Sure, there were some critics complaining that my villain was a joke—too stupid, too weak, too pathetic. Lazy writing, they called it. A waste of potential.
But hey, this was my story. And I wasn't about to change a thing.
Which is why, in today's chapter—
I was going to kill the villain.
Brutally. Mercilessly. Without a shred of redemption.
It was time for him to die so the hero could move forward, gain new powers, and continue his journey.
I cracked my knuckles and smirked as I typed the final line of the villain's miserable existence.
> [The hero's blade struck true. The villain's life ended in disgrace, forgotten by the world, unloved and unimportant.]
I exhaled, satisfied.
Then—
My screen flickered suddenly.
The words on the page warped, twisted into something I didn't write.
> [You shouldn't have done that.]
A chill ran down my spine.
Then—
The room tilted. My stomach lurched. The sound of my fingers on the keyboard echoed strangely, like they weren't mine anymore.
And then—
Nothing.
No light.
No sound.
No breath.
Just darkness, swallowing me whole.