Facing the overwhelming aura of an X Ranker, [Blue Waves] couldn't even raise his head. His body trembled uncontrollably, every instinct screaming that one wrong breath could mean his end.
Somewhere in that crushing silence, a single thought burned through the panic — there's only one way I survive this.
But he didn't dare speak yet.
He waited.
He wanted to see what she would do to [White Space] first — the old fool who had admitted to summoning her here.
Surely, she'd start with him.
Yet… she didn't even glance his way.
Her crimson eyes, cold and unblinking, turned instead toward him.
[Blue Waves] froze.
Why… me?
The Reciter's voice fell, quiet yet heavy enough to make the clouds rumble.
[What about you?]
A pause.
[Why did you summon me here?]
The question hit like lightning — sharp, sudden, and impossible to dodge.
He felt wronged in that instant — utterly, bitterly wronged.
What did she mean?
He hadn't summoned her.
It was the old man!
He'd only defended himself. And now, he was the one being punished? His mind screamed the question, but his lips dared not move.
And still, she said nothing to [White Space].
Not a word.
Not even a glance.
The realization twisted his stomach. But deep down, he knew it didn't matter.
When power spoke, he listened.
That was the rule of the world.
He'd lived by it, enforced it — crushed those beneath him without thought or reason simply because he could.
And now, standing under the gaze of a being so far above him, he finally understood how they must have felt.
To her, he was nothing.
A bug crawling too close to the sun.
And if she decided to burn him for it, that was her right.
[Blue Waves]'s voice trembled even in silence as the thought of death crept into his mind — not the kind of death he had long grown used to, but true death.
Ordinary death meant nothing to him.
He could return through his body double outside the Fragment, same as Gara with his root-based regeneration.
But this… this was different.
The being standing before him was an X Ranker, a Reciter.
If she chose to erase him, his usual escape meant nothing.
She could sever the tether — cut off his connection to his body double and erase his Story entirely.
And what was a Player without a Story?
Storyless. Empty. Dead.
He might survive in flesh, but not in name.
Not in power.
To start again at F Rank, stripped of everything he'd built?
He almost laughed.
No — he would kill himself and be done with it.
That was why, when she looked at him now, he didn't just feel threatened.
He felt the cold certainty of an ending.
So he did the only thing left to do — play his last card.
His backer.
No, not just a backer.
His master.
[Blue Waves] forced his lips apart, his head still lowered so low his forehead nearly touched the mountain beneath him. His throat felt dry, but he managed to speak, his voice quivering yet carrying the sharpness of desperate reason.
"It wasn't me," he said. "It was the old man who dared interrupt your call… and he even admitted it."
He paused, trembling, then added in a quieter, sharper tone — one that mixed fear with a desperate reminder.
"But… please, Miss Reciter, don't forget who my master is."
The words lingered in the air like a spark on the verge of igniting a storm.
The Reciter's crimson eyes flicked toward him, and her tone, once calm, sharpened like a blade.
[Are you threatening me, little bug? Inside my Fragment?]
The air shattered around her voice.
[Blue Waves] felt it — the thin, suffocating thread that separated him from death.
His heart seized, his breath caught halfway through his throat. He immediately lowered his head, his words tumbling out in panic.
"N-no, Miss Reciter! I would never dare! I'm only begging— begging for forgiveness. I meant no threat, no disrespect! Please— spare me my life. I only wish to survive, nothing more!"
His voice cracked into silence, the mountain wind swallowing his words.
Yet within his trembling mind, a quieter thought crept through the terror.
So it's true then…
Her reaction told him everything he needed to know.
[Best Horror Storyteller] — the X Ranked Reciter — had already chosen a side in the Competition.
The Reciter stared at him for a moment, the air between them frozen still.
Then, her voice echoed in his mind like a whisper carried by the wind.
[Since you've asked so nicely, I'll let it slide this once. But do not annoy me again, little wave.]
Before [Blue Waves] could utter a single word in response, she raised her right hand and snapped her fingers.
Poof!
A pulse of silence spread outward—then, in the next instant, [Blue Waves], [Black Cover], and [Blue Cover] all vanished from the Fragment, as though erased from existence itself.
[White Space] watched in terror, his heart pounding as the echo of her finger snap still lingered in the air. Even though he knew the Reciter wasn't his enemy, seeing her erase people with a gesture made his body tense with instinctive fear.
He didn't dare lift his head.
His eyes stayed glued to the shimmering floor of the Fragment, hands trembling slightly.
Then her gaze turned toward him, and her voice followed—calm, detached, yet heavy enough to press against his chest.
[I have fulfilled my role,] she said.
[Take the two children with you and leave my Fragment.]
The old man nodded slightly, his voice steady but respectful. "Thank you… for saving the children from certain death," he said.
But before he could take a single step, something shifted in the air.
A crushing presence pressed down from above, thick and suffocating. The Reciter's eyes flicked toward the sky at the same instant his did.
He felt it immediately—three distinct forces.
One far above the rest, immense and sharp like the weight of a collapsing world—an SSS Ranked aura.
And two others beneath it, still terrifyingly strong, each equal to an SS Ranker.
The SS Rankers weren't Players, but the SSS one was.
He could tell from their rhythm, the natural pulse of their energy—pure, unshaped by the Story System.
No, these were natives.
The Rashanz.
And this… was their Fragment—the SS Ranked [Rashanz] Fragment.
From the clouds above, three figures descended.
Their bodies were enormous—skin black as onyx, eyes burning crimson, and from their temples curved sharp white horns.
Each had four arms, every muscle carved with precision.
The aura of the leading one was unmistakable—older, calmer, heavier. His head was bald, his face marked with age, and a long white beard flowed down to his chest.
He even looked somewhat like [White Space] himself, if not for the faint cracks of energy coursing through his dark skin.
He landed first, laughter rumbling deep in his chest as he clasped his hands together respectfully toward the Reciter.
Behind him, the two others followed—taller, younger, with long white hair tied back and silver armor covering their torsos.
The metallic plates gleamed faintly under the Fragment's pale light.
They, too, saluted in perfect unison, clasping their hands before the Reciter who governed their Fragment.
[Best Horror Storyteller]'s gaze lingered on the three Rashanz, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
Then, her voice echoed through the Fragment—clear, heavy, and toneless.
[Did your Emperor send you here?]
The old Rashanz, still with both sets of hands pressed together, lifted his head just enough to meet her gaze.
His voice carried the weight of age and command.
"Indeed, Esteemed Reciter," he said with a respectful incline of his head. "Our Emperor requests an audience with the three visitors who have entered your Fragment—of course, only if you permit it."
The two younger Rashanz behind him stayed motionless, waiting like statues for her response. Even [White Space] didn't dare breathe too loudly, sensing that one wrong word might split the sky.
The [Rashanz Emperor] was no ordinary ruler.
He was an X Ranker—a Player whose power resonated across the Fragment like a living storm.
Yet, despite standing on the same rank as her, his authority was lesser.
A Reciter was not simply powerful; they defined the Fragments they oversaw.
[Best Horror Storyteller] wasn't just stronger than most Players—she was the Fragment's law, its voice, its will.
Even the Emperor's authority bent before hers.
And so, the [Rashanz Emperor] treated her with a respect that bordered on reverence.
Of course, that wasn't only because of her position.
Rumor had it that [Best Horror Storyteller], a "mere" X Ranker, could speak directly with the tenth strongest being in all the Story World—the [Beast King] himself.
That alone made even Emperors tread lightly around her.
She turned her gaze toward the old Rashanz messenger—the SSS Ranker who had spoken on behalf of the Emperor.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips before she gave a small, almost dismissive nod.
[Very well. I'll allow them to remain a little longer. But see to it that I am not disturbed again… unless it's time for their departure.]
The messenger nodded deeply, his tone reverent as he thanked her for her grace.
Her eyes then drifted toward the two unconscious Players lying nearby—the newly ascended E Rankers of her Fragment, one with red hair, the other blonde: Gara and Leif.
For a brief moment, something flickered behind her eyes.
Amusement? Curiosity? No one could tell.
Her lips curved into the faintest smirk before a golden portal bloomed open behind her, its light shimmering through the shadowed Fragment. Without another word, she stepped backward—one red heel, then the other—into the swirling gold.
And just like that, [Best Horror Storyteller] was gone, leaving behind only silence, as though she had never been there at all.
The old Rashanz messenger turned toward [White Space], his crimson eyes softening as he offered a warm, practiced smile. He clasped his four hands together in a gesture of respect and spoke with a calm, gravelly voice—apologizing for not greeting him sooner.
[White Space] gave a small nod, though he couldn't help but feel uneasy.
As an SS Ranker, being shown such deference by a being whose raw power clearly surpassed his own felt… strange.
The old Rashanz radiated a quiet authority, one that told him this was no ordinary native.
Even if the guards weren't Players, the pressure rolling off them was unmistakably that of SS Rank equivalent—stronger, steadier, ancient in a way that felt earned rather than born.
Still, [White Space] reminded himself—the Rashanz lived shorter lives, rarely exceeding a few hundred years. Even these powerful guards were likely far younger than he was.
Yet the difference in presence made age feel meaningless.
The messenger was a different story entirely though.
He was a Player—anyone could tell at a glance. Part of it was the sharp, unmistakable aura of the Story System radiating from him, but the rest was simple logic.
The [Rashanz] Fragment was an SS Ranked Fragment.
No one inside it could surpass SS Rank unless they possessed the Story System and left to travel the wider Story World.
So the messenger being an SSS Ranker already revealed everything: he wasn't just a Rashanz native—he had gone out, ventured through the Story World, climbed its dangers, and earned that overwhelming Rank of power.
He offered a small smile. "No need for an apology."
Before the Rashanz messenger could respond, [White Space] spoke again, his tone firm but calm. "Let me first check on the two boys. They were injured in their previous fight."
The messenger's eyes widened, his expression shifting to sudden worry, as if he had completely forgotten about them. "Ah… yes! Of course!" he exclaimed, moving faster than even [White Space] could follow.
With practiced precision, he summoned two green vials, broke them, and let the glowing liquid sprinkle over the unconscious duo. "They are esteemed guests of our Emperor as well," he said, his voice laced with urgency. "I cannot neglect them."
The healing light spread across Gara and Leif, mending their injuries as both [White Space] and the messenger watched carefully.
[White Space] leaned back slightly, a faint look of surprise on his face, though he understood quickly.
Of course. Guests of the Emperor are treated as such.
The messenger glanced at him, then smiled warmly. "And you, honored guest, are treated no differently. I hope you find everything satisfactory."
[White Space] nodded slowly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. I wonder… what would an X Ranker like the [Rashanz Emperor] want with someone like me?
He kept the thought to himself, saying nothing, and instead turned his attention to the boys. Gara and Leif hadn't stirred yet, but the green light from the vials had already worked wonders.
Their wounds closed in mere seconds, leaving only tattered and blood-stained clothing as evidence of the fight.
[White Space] muttered softly, almost to himself, "Well… at least they're alive."
He then stepped forward and inclined his head slightly. "Thank you for helping the two boys," he said with quiet respect.
The Rashanz messenger chuckled as he straightened, a playful smile on his face. "Are… they your grandkids? You seem very worried for them."
[White Space] let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "No, they are not my grandkids. I've simply been entrusted with their safety. That is why I released my aura—to draw the attention of Miss Reciter here so she could handle [Blue Waves] and his boys."
The messenger nodded, impressed, his crimson eyes glinting with understanding. "I see… then your concern is well-placed. They are fortunate to have someone like you watching over them."
[White Space] gave a small nod, his gaze flicking toward the unconscious Gara and Leif, ensuring they were truly safe.
With a subtle flick of his finger, Gara and Leif began to float into the air. If one looked closely, a thin slice of white paper beneath them supported their weight, lifting them effortlessly.
[White Space] then turned to the Rashanz messenger. "Shall we get moving, then?"
The messenger nodded, a calm smile on his face. "Of course."
He lifted off the ground first, followed smoothly by the two white-haired guards.
Moments later, [White Space] ascended with the two still-unconscious boys, the group moving as one through the air, leaving the mountaintop behind.
...
A young boy with red hair and blue eyes sat motionless before the crackling fire. Its orange light danced across his face, but no warmth reached his eyes.
All around him—bodies.
No screams, no breath, no movement.
Only silence, and the faint whisper of wind weaving through empty streets lined with wooden houses and paper lanterns now burned to ash.
Under the pale glow of the moon, he stood alone—small, trembling, frozen.
Then, footsteps. Soft. Calm.
A young man appeared before him, stepping through the smoke like he had walked out of another world.
He wore a white kimono tied with a black belt, a long black Odachi at his side, and a black rose embroidered on his chest.
His short, messy white hair glimmered faintly in the firelight, but his face… was hidden, swallowed by the glow and shadow alike.
"Hey…" The man's voice was gentle, patient, almost painfully so. "Are you alright?"
He crouched down and reached out, brushing the boy's soot-streaked hair aside.
The boy's lips quivered.
His chest tightened.
And then, without a sound, the tears came—falling silently into the dust and firelight.
...
Gara shot up from the bed, chest heaving, breath sharp and uneven. His eyes darted around the room before he forced himself to calm down.
"That dream again… huh?" he muttered under his breath.
A sigh escaped him as he ran a hand through his red hair and tried to shake off the lingering heaviness.
When he finally looked around properly, he realized he was lying in a pristine white bed, the fabric softer than anything he'd felt in years.
The room around him was luxurious—marble floors, carved pillars, curtains embroidered with silver threads that shimmered faintly in the morning light.
To his right stood another bed—empty.
He didn't need to guess why.
The chair beside him creaked softly. A figure sat there, head tilted slightly as if he had been watching over him for some time.
The young man's short blond hair caught the light, and his crimson eyes met Gara's the instant he turned. Draped in a black cloak that covered his entire frame, he looked calm, composed.
"Leif," Gara said quietly.
Leif stared at him in silence for a moment before finally speaking, his tone calm as ever.
"I'm glad you survived."
Gara smiled faintly, a bit of warmth spreading inside him at those words. "Ha? Don't tell me you were worried about me, blondie," he teased, a grin forming on his face.
Leif didn't flinch. "That's a given. You're going to be my Companion from now on, after all."
Gara blinked, his grin faltering for a second. "Tch, way to ruin the moment," he muttered under his breath, annoyed that his teasing had backfired so easily.
Leif tilted his head slightly, as if not understanding the issue, and changed the topic.
"How are you feeling?"
Gara leaned back against the pillow and crossed his arms. "I'm fine, no need to worry at all."
But inside, he knew there was something to worry about.
His Story, [Root of All Things], had cracked — the result of pushing it too far and forcefully using an Energy Potion during the fight with [Black Cover].
It had been worth it to save Leif's life… but the price was heavier than he wanted to admit. For now, he'd keep that to himself.
Gara exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling.
He'd have to tell Leif about the crack soon enough—there was no hiding something like that for long.
Especially if that "Companion" line had been serious.
Still… he wasn't sure what to make of it.
The thought of it made him smirk faintly. Fighting side by side with the blond idiot had been surprisingly fun—chaotic, exhausting, but fun.
For a moment back there, when they faced those Cover Club members, it almost felt like they'd known each other for years.
But this wasn't the time for reminiscing.
He turned his head toward Leif, who sat quietly in the chair beside him, arms crossed, gaze steady as ever.
"So…" Gara began, voice low but casual, "mind filling me in? Where are we? What happened after I passed out—and who patched us up?"
Leif's crimson eyes shifted toward him, the faintest flicker of thought crossing his face before he answered.
"When I woke up, I was already here," he said evenly. "My wounds were gone. Yours too—though you were still asleep."
He paused a moment, then added, "There was a message waiting for me. From [White Space]. He said not to panic, and that we're inside the Rashanz Empire's main palace. Apparently… we were healed by the [Rashanz Emperor]'s Messenger."
For a moment, Gara just stared at him, blankly processing the words. Then a faint chuckle escaped his lips—small at first, but quickly bubbling into something louder.
"Hah—wait, wait, wait, hold on!" Gara suddenly burst out, sitting upright as if struck by lightning again. "You're telling me not to panic? An SS Ranker like [White Space] is casually messaging us like we're his buddies—us, a pair of E Rankers?"
Leif didn't respond, only watching quietly as Gara ran a hand down his face in disbelief.
"And what was that last part—did you just say the Rashanz Emperor?" Gara continued, voice pitching up. "As in, the X Ranker? The highest authority in this whole Fragment besides the Reciter herself?!"
He threw his hands up. "Are you hearing yourself right now? How are you this calm about it? Are you even human, blondie? Is that it?"
Leif blinked once, expression as unreadable as ever.
"Maybe," he said simply.
Gara groaned, falling back against the pillow. "Unbelievable…"
He then drew in a long breath, forcing himself to settle down. "Alright… let's just start from the beginning," he said, rubbing his temples.
"If Mister [White Space]'s been treating us this nicely—and he's helped us out more than once already—then it probably means he's on our side. He must know about the Competition too. [Blue Cover] sure seemed to—"
Leif lifted a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. His crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
"How did you know [Blue Cover] knew about the Competition?"
Gara blinked, then tilted his head with a faint grin. "Oh, that? When you were tied up by those weird blue ribbons, I was busy putting my roots in the ground," he said, tapping his temple. "At the same time, I was listening in while you two were chatting. Figured I might pick up something useful."
Leif's gaze lingered on him for a moment—wordless, unreadable—before he slowly lowered his hand again.
Gara chuckled under his breath. "Hey, don't give me that look. Someone had to keep an ear open while you were getting wrapped like a gift box."
Leif ignored Gara's teasing, simply nodding before asking another question. "[Blue Cover] said you… died. To the Golden Lightning," he said quietly.
"He also mentioned that the other SS Ranker, [Blue Waves], washed the earth and eliminated all the roots you'd planted as an escape plan."
Gara's expression darkened for a moment, then he nodded slowly.
"Yeah… that SS Rank monster did exactly that. Every last one of them."
He let out a short, bitter chuckle, then his lips curved slightly as his gaze drifted. "But… Mister [White Space] used his powers to protect a single root. From that one… I was reborn. Into this body."
He paused, swallowing hard. "If it wasn't for him… I'd actually be dead."
A shiver ran through him at the thought.
Every time he remembered that moment, his heart skipped a beat.
He laughed nervously, a sound half disbelief, half fear. "It's… it's scary when you really think about it. I was this close to actual death. That could've been it—everything ended there. [Root of All Things]… gone. My goal of becoming the strongest in the Story World… unfulfilled."
He shook his head, letting out a long, heavy sigh. "I… I don't even know how to feel about it."
Leif didn't respond to Gara's lingering fear and disbelief. Instead, his gaze shifted, calm as ever. "Then… why didn't you send a message to let me know you were alright?"
Gara leaned back slightly, a sly grin forming. "Simple. I wanted my entrance as the 'Savior' from [Blue Cover] to be… even better."
Before he could continue, Leif's hand shot forward in a sharp chop, and Gara barely dodged in time. The blonde's crimson eyes were fixed on him, an unspoken warning in their calm intensity.
"Don't do that kind of thing again," Leif said quietly, though his tone carried a weight that made Gara pause.
Gara tilted his head, smirking. "Heh… so you were worried, huh?"
Leif's hand dropped, but his eyes never wavered. "If you joke like that again… I will not forgive you."
Gara's grin faltered.
For the first time in a while, he looked serious. "…Alright. I'm sorry," he said, his voice low. "I won't do it again."
He leaned back against the pillow, exhaling softly, the tension of the moment slowly easing—but the faintest trace of his usual teasing still lingered in his eyes.
Leif let out a quiet sigh, the faintest weight in his shoulders betraying the calm he usually carried.
"I don't know why the [Rashanz Emperor] saved us… or why he brought us here alongside [White Space]," he said evenly, eyes fixed somewhere beyond Gara.
"I don't know what happened to the other SS Ranker, [Blue Waves], or the two Cover Club members he brought with him either."
He paused, as if counting the time. "Actually… it's only been about five minutes since I woke up."
Gara blinked at him, absorbing the words, the reality of the situation slowly settling in.
He drew in another deep breath and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
His red kimono was still on him, its fabric torn and stained from the fight, battle scars visible in the rips and frays. Leif's black cloak bore similar marks, but neither of them seemed to care.
They couldn't just sit here and wait forever.
Gara reached out and activated his golden Story System Interface. As he had expected, a notification appeared almost instantly. It was from the old man himself.
A small message, brief and precise, confirming exactly what Leif had already told him: they were inside the Rashanz Empire's main palace, the Messenger sent by the [Rashanz Emperor] had healed them, and, of course, not to panic.
But how could he not panic?
Gara exhaled slowly, letting the weight of it sink in.
The palace, the Emperor, [White Space]… all of it.
It was overwhelming.
An SS Ranker like [White Space] was one thing—intimidating enough that even knowing he was "on their side" didn't erase the edge of fear Gara felt.
But the [Rashanz Emperor]… an X Ranker.
One Rank below the absolute top, Z Rank, in the entire Story World. And Gara? He was just an E Ranker, one Rank above the bottom of the scale, F Rank.
Anyone in his shoes would have fainted under the sheer weight of those thoughts.
He turned toward Leif, trying to steady his racing mind. "So… what do you think we should do?"
Leif's crimson eyes met his, calm and unwavering. "We wait. An hour or so. If no one comes to check on us, then we try contacting [White Space]."
He shrugged lightly. "It's better than venturing into the palace of an X Ranker blindly."
Gara exhaled, nodding slowly. "Yeah… better than walking straight into a death trap."
—End of Chapter.
-------
Worried are we?
Leif: Don't start!
Gara: Start what?
Leif: You know what I mean, let's just get this over with and move on to the next chapter already.
Gara: Oho! Would you look at that? It seems someone's shy here... Hehehe!
Leif: Don't test me Gara!
Gara: Huh? Or what?
Leif: I'll call Lavia.
Gara left the chat and sent an apology to Leif.