Chapter 22
Across the distance between them, Theo felt an immense difference in pressure.
The air pressed against his body, as if the world itself bowed before the being that had just appeared.
His heart pounded uncontrollably.
Not out of fear, but from the instinct of a writer—the innate sense that knows when something unwritten begins to manifest within a story, it is no longer just a system error.
It is a sign that the tale has taken hold of the pen from its creator.
"I'm glad to finally meet you in person, though I wish this meeting didn't happen amidst such chaos.
I don't have time for pleasantries, so I'll get straight to the point.
This battle between Erietta and Aldraya is happening at the wrong time.
As an Administrator, you should realize this event wasn't meant to occur midway through episode five, but rather in episode seven or eight."
Fuuuuuh!
"If variables like this keep emerging uncontrollably, the main plot will collapse, the narrative will break apart, and the entire game of Flo Viva Mythology will no longer follow its intended storyline.
So if you came only to observe or reprimand, I suggest you reconsider.
I must stop this fight before this world completely loses its coherence."
Theo stood firm.
His sword still dripped faint traces of glowing blue light, pulsing like a heartbeat that refused to stop.
He knew Cru's presence wasn't a coincidence—and more than that, it wasn't something to be ignored.
But for Theo, time was not a luxury to be wasted on small talk.
With a gaze piercing the transparent mist where Cru's form stood, he lowered his head slightly—a nearly invisible gesture of respect—before speaking in a tone that demanded no answer.
He acknowledged Cru's presence, even expressed his gratitude at meeting the Administrator who guarded the pulse of this world.
But it was only a polite introduction before he returned to face the more urgent reality.
To him, this was not the moment to kneel before the system, nor the time to debate with a consciousness capable of erasing his existence whenever it wished.
Theo spoke swiftly, clearly, and under pressure.
He declared that he had no time to entertain Cru—because here lay the true gamble.
'Will Flo Viva Mythology continue according to its scenario, or will this world collapse under the weight of wild variables growing beyond the control of both writer and system?'
He looked toward where the dust of battle still lingered—toward the two girls defying their fates with drawn swords—and that was where Theo's focus anchored.
He knew with certainty that every event occurring out of sequence could shake the foundation of this world.
The duel between Erietta and Aldraya was meant to be the climax of the next episode—a symbol of emotional escalation.
Not a premature incident that would disrupt the rhythm of the narrative.
But now, they fought too soon, and that could only mean something far worse.
The world was beginning to lose its ability to distinguish time and place.
Theo made that clear to Cru, his voice sharp—like a spell carved into the air—demanding that the Administrator understand his duty this time was not to submit, but to act in order to stabilize a world on the verge of breaking.
In silence, Theo stayed alert.
He knew that every word he spoke could become a reason for Cru to erase his existence from this world.
Yet Theo's eyes remained defiant.
Not from mere bravery, but from the resolve of a writer who refused to see a story end halfway.
He would fix the errant variables—whether by rewriting the battle or by stopping the two girls himself, who were now writing their story without his permission.
'So, you just stand there watching me, Cru? Hah, far too calm for a mere warden.If you truly wish to test me, let's see who falls first.'
Thud!
'One step forward, and—'
Hussssh!
'Hah? Gone without a trace?
Tch, just as I suspected.
Not an ordinary hologram.
Fine, just don't blame me later.'
Huuuuuh!
'One Point, Nine Acupunctures Concluded!'
The ground beneath his feet quivered softly as Theo began to step forward.
His movement was slow, yet every stride carried measured caution—like someone walking upon glass that might shatter at any moment.
He wanted to know how far Cru's limits extended—whether that entity was merely a silent overseer or the hand of God that severed every anomaly.
The light from the katana in his grasp pulsed gently, waiting alongside him for the world's answer.
But with just one step taken, the air before him rippled.
Cru vanished—not as if disappearing, but as though absorbed into space itself—leaving a faint circular distortion that bent Theo's sight outward.
At that moment, instinct took over.
Without hesitation, Theo spun around, stepped back several paces, and in the same motion unleashed One Point, Nine Acupunctures Concluded for the second time.
The movement was so fast that even his shadow lagged behind, and the blue arc of light was reborn—splitting the air with a sound that resembled the world's final breath.
The air shattered, the ground cracked, and that blue gleam sliced through the surrounding mist, drawing a perfect line toward the point where Cru had vanished.
'Heh, steel, huh?
But not ordinary steel.
The claim that you're no mere entity isn't wrong, is it?'
Suuuuuh!
'Fascinating—truly fascinating.
Even in a near-formless state, you can still deflect every motion—as if you already knew my intent before my eyes could even see it.
You want to play that way, huh?
Very well, I'll indulge your madness a little.
But don't blame me when you regret appearing before me.'
Tiiing – taaang!
'To collide with the Nine Acupunctures Concluded technique and remain standing unfazed?
Do you realize how absurd that is?
No—you must realize it. That's precisely why you're smiling within your formless self.'
Wuuuuuh!
'If you think I'll back down just because one strike failed, you're gravely mistaken.I'm not the kind of man who stops at his first failure.
The world I come from taught me that the essence of victory doesn't lie in the end result—but in endurance amidst absurdity.'
The wind around Theo began to spiral with his motion, lifting dust and leaves into wild suspension.
Twenty-seven slashes—born from the will of a relentless writer—crashed against something that felt like steel: hard, immovable, echoing endlessly among the trees and small ruins nearby.
Each strike carried exquisite precision, proof that Theo relied not only on physical strength but on deep understanding of combat mechanics and the flow of energy he himself had created.
His movements were so swift and fluid, as though his body danced to the rhythm of a scenario written by someone else, even as this world absorbed almost all logic into the reality of Flo Viva Mythology.
Theo's arm spun three times in succession—the weapon shifting from right hand to forearm, then to the left, before resting firmly in his grip again.
Each transition felt like a mechanical symphony, a flawless choreography born of years spent writing, observing, and imagining this world.
He pushed beyond the limits of ordinary humans, his body becoming a bridge between the concept of imagination and physical reality.
To be continued…