2025-08-31 18:19:53
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Chapter 117: The Editor Arrives
The battlefield was silent. The last fragments of the True Author’s ashes scattered into the void, each particle glowing faintly before dissolving into nothing. The quill he once held, the weapon of his dominion, was gone.Alan lay in Calla’s arms, unconscious but alive, the glow of the forbidden name still pulsing faintly within his chest. His hand twitched around the rebuttal quill. It should have been over. It wasn’t.The stranger’s arrival was like the flip of a page in a book none of them had ever opened. She stood where the True Author had perished, framed in the collapsing remnants of erased realities.Wings of rejected endings arched from her back, shimmering, broken fragments that bled sorrow and fury.She was beautiful and horrifying all at once. Her armor was a mosaic of contradictions: the final death of a hero in one shard, the confession of love cut from another, the betrayal that never made it to print across her gauntlet.Her eyes glowed the cold silver of editorial in
Chapter 116: The Name That Unwrites
The beam of null-ink ripped through the sky like divine lightning, Alan tackled Proto-Alan out of the way, shielding the fragile boy with his own body as the blast hit the ground behind them and unwrote the land itself. Trees blinked out of existence. Stones became blank spaces.Even the concept of time stuttered. Yet the name, the one carved into the cracked ground, remained. Alan had seen it. He couldn’t remember it. But he had felt it, and his soul now shivered beneath its weight.Calla pulled him up. “Alan! Are you alright?!”Alan staggered, blinking rapidly. “I… I saw everything. But it’s gone.”Mira crouched near the carved name, reaching for it, but her fingers passed through the letters like smoke.“It’s receding,” she said. “He’s trying to delete even the memory of it.”Proto-Alan was trembling. “He’ll find us. He’ll come himself.”Codex, now a pulsating prism of fragmented knowledge, whispered, “The True Author is rewriting Volume Zero as we speak. If we stay too long, we’ll
Chapter 115: Volume Two Begins
The impact shattered everything. The throne room’s marble tiles cracked as radiant glyphs spilled from the open tome behind the True Author.Worlds collided, not physically, but conceptually. The rules of their reality twisted, mutated, and fractured as the structure of the multiversal storyweb was revealed.Alan screamed, not in pain, but in resistance. He was not ready to lose. Alan and his companions were yanked upward, out of the Archive, through the spiraling light of the Bastion’s broken ceiling, and hurled into a swirling nexus of realities.They landed atop a transparent platform suspended in the void. Below them floated hundreds of realms, each a story, each with a protagonist, each with a war, Some were dark and violent, Others gleamed with romance.Some were empty. All were bound by the True Author’s hand.Before them, floating just beyond the veil of space, hovered reflections of Alan and his team, alternate versions from alternate Volumes.One Alan was a tyrant in obsidia
Chapter 114: The Redraft War
For one heartbeat, the Archive stood frozen. No wind. No breath. No thought. Even the sun, that stubborn narrator of time, dimmed like a forgotten sentence. The word “Redraft” rippled across existence. And then, reality fractured.From the seams of the Archive, two versions began to emerge. One shimmered with familiar warmth, the world as it was, the flame-scorched battlefield, Calla’s trembling form, Mira’s defiant tears, Codex’s flickering light. The other?The Author’s Redraft. Perfect lines. Clean arcs. No anomalies. No rebellion. It was lifeless. And yet, it was overtaking everything.Alan’s companions began to glitch. Calla looked down at her sword, now reformed into a ceremonial dagger. “What… is this?” Her voice was flatter.Mira looked at her hands. The scars from the Soulfire Trial were gone. “I don’t remember… why I’m angry.”Codex panicked. “They’re being overwritten! Their prior selves are being erased and replaced with idealized variants.”Ilien screamed as his laughter
Chapter 113: The True Author
The silence after the Phantom’s collapse was absolute. Ink floated like ash through the air. The obsidian shards of the Mirror of Ink dissolved into lightless dust.Alan stood unmoving, his quill still smoldering, his breath uneven. They had won. And yet, they had not. Calla stepped forward, her fingers twitching toward Alan’s shoulder. “You alright?”He nodded slowly, his voice dry. “Yes… and no.”Codex drifted down beside him, mechanical wings folding gently. “The echo is gone. You severed the control. The Archive is stabilizing”Suddenly, he froze. His pages flared open. “No… it’s not stabilizing, it’s being overwritten.”Mira blinked. “By who?”Ilien raised his hand toward the heavens. “Look.”Above them, the sky was rewriting itself. Clouds bent into letters. Time began to hiccup. Reality turned... brittle. In the sky, a sentence burned in molten gold.“The draft begins again.”“I claim the quill.”“I am the Author.”The earth shuddered. Codex staggered, eyes wide. “No. It’s impo
Chapter 112: The Mirror of Ink
The halls of Eidowen no longer whispered. They chanted.Alan walked them like a ghost trailing echoes of himself. Every line etched on the ivory walls dripped with familiarity. Not because he remembered writing them, but because they remembered him.Behind him, Calla and Ilien followed in silence. Even the bold Mira seemed subdued, her eyes tracing the sprawling narrative carvings that lined every pillar, stair, and stone.At the heart of the city, the Phantom Pen waited. But it wasn't just waiting, it was writing. The trio stepped into the central sanctum of Eidowen: a vast domed cathedral lined with broken quills and petrified ink.At its center stood an obsidian mirror, six feet tall, rippling like water trapped in a frame. Words floated across its surface in real time. Calla hissed, “That’s the Archive’s current draft.”Ilien stepped closer. “No, it’s a rewrite.”And the author? Alan.From the far side of the mirror stepped the Phantom Pen. His robes shimmered like ink under moonl
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