For eleven years, Ishaan Reed wrote a novel no one read—
a world of labyrinths, monsters, and gods who toy with fate.

Then the sky split open… and his forgotten story became reality.

The “protagonist” he once created, Kael Arathis, now leads the charge—brilliant, powerful, and shining like a hero. Beside him, Ishaan should have been nothing more than a background character.

Until a line appeared before his eyes:

[Sentence: Ishaan Reed died here.]
[Rewrite? Y/N]

Now, reality itself is his manuscript. Every death, every defeat, every ending can be rewritten. To the gods, he is just another pawn. To Kael, he is a fraud stealing victories. But to Ishaan, this is the one story he refuses to abandon.

Titles will be earned. Rules will be broken. And the script written by the gods… will be shattered.

Can the Script Breaker survive until the final chapter—or will even his rewrites be erased?

It had been a long time since silence felt honest.


No whispering pages. No glitching system alerts. No gods, editors, or echoes demanding context.Just wind.And the faint sound of ink cooling in my quill.


[ System Notice: Narrative Activity — 0% ][ All Threads Paused. Awaiting Authorial Input. ]


I looked at the notice.It didn't blink or repeat.Just waited—like a breath held between sentences.


Arjun floated near my shoulder, the ember small and steady. It's quiet. Too quiet.


"Possibly. But in fairness, it started it."


The valley stretched below, dotted with fragments of the rewritten world—mountains that hummed softly, rivers that glowed faintly in moonlight. Everything felt… aware, but calm.


After so many loops, battles, rewrites, and negotiations with existence itself, it was almost unsettling to have peace.


I sat down on a stone that used to be part of a god's spine. The irony wasn't lost on me.


Chapter 88 - The Silence That Spoke