Falling through the light was like sinking through memories.
Each second stretched into years, each breath felt like an echo from another life.
When the fall ended, I found myself standing on a plain of endless parchment.
The ground was not solid—each step left behind faint ink marks, and when I looked closer, I saw lines written across it: fragments of stories, characters, forgotten moments. The sentences moved like waves, rewriting themselves as if the ground itself were alive.
Sera stood beside me, hand over her chest, her white uniform faintly glowing against the dull gray air. "Where are we?"
"The Core Realm," I said softly, my voice almost swallowed by the silence. "Where every erased word goes."
The sky above was not sky at all—it was filled with pages fluttering endlessly upward, burning and reforming, like the Author's thoughts given shape. A black sun hovered far above, leaking ribbons of ink that fell like rain.
Sera stepped closer, her expression uneasy. "Lucien… do you feel that?"
I nodded. Beneath the hum of the world, I felt breathing—not human, not natural. As though the story itself inhaled and exhaled, watching us from every direction.
We began walking, the parchment rustling beneath our boots. The world around us bent subtly with each thought, forming paths from our intentions. At times the paper rippled, revealing glimpses of lives that no longer existed—faces blurred, voices cut mid-sentence. People who had once been part of this world before the Author erased them.
After a long silence, Sera asked quietly, "Do you think we can actually kill him?"
I didn't answer right away. "I don't know. But if we don't try, he'll keep rewriting everything—until we forget who we are."
She looked at me then, her blue eyes trembling. "I'm not afraid to disappear, Lucien. But I'm afraid you'll forget me."
Her words struck harder than I expected. "Then I'll carve your name into my soul," I said quietly. "Even if he erases the world, I'll remember."
We reached a canyon formed from torn pages. The wind carried faint whispers—half-formed sentences, voices murmuring like ghosts.
Then we saw them.
Figures wandering aimlessly in the mist—pale, transparent, their forms flickering between existence and memory. The Erased Ones.
Their faces were familiar in fragments: a soldier I once fought beside, a merchant who had given me food, a child who had smiled at Sera. They looked at us with hollow eyes.
One of them stepped forward, a tall man with broken armor. "Lucien Vale," he said, his voice like paper tearing. "You've come to finish what you started?"
"I didn't erase you," I said. "He did."
The man laughed bitterly. "He wrote us through you. Every death, every betrayal, every cruel act—the Author used your hands to write them."
Sera took a step forward. "He was trapped, manipulated—"
The ghost shook his head. "Maybe. But pain doesn't vanish just because it was written."
He raised his hand. The others followed, their ghostly bodies rippling like smoke. The air grew heavy, filled with words too broken to read. I drew my sword.
"Wait," Sera whispered. "They're not enemies. They're memories."
"Then memories that attack still bleed," I muttered, and blocked the first strike.
The battle was strange—every swing of my sword cut through phrases instead of flesh. Each Erased One exploded into ink, their last words whispering into my mind.
We only wanted to live our stories…
Their sorrow burned like poison, and with every spirit I defeated, something inside me grew quieter—emptier.
When it was over, the field was littered with floating letters. Sera fell to her knees, trembling.
"They weren't supposed to fight us," she whispered. "He made them."
I sheathed my blade slowly. "No… I think they were begging us to end their half-existence."
The realization was a weight I couldn't shake off.
We moved onward, the light dimming to crimson. Ahead lay a massive gate, built entirely of stacked books and chained shut with glowing script. Each chain pulsed with words of power.
The Gates of the Core.
But before we reached it, a familiar voice echoed from the shadows behind us.
"Lucien!"
I turned sharply. A young man ran toward us—a boy with messy blond hair, his uniform torn and stained. My heart froze.
"Kai…"
My oldest friend. The one who had fought beside me before I died—the one who should have been alive in this world.
He smiled weakly. "I finally found you. I thought… I thought you forgot me."
Sera frowned. "Lucien, who is he?"
Before I could answer, Kai staggered forward, clutching his chest. His body flickered, his outline dissolving into letters.
"No…" I whispered. "No, not you."
Kai looked up at me, tears running down his fading face. "You broke a chain, didn't you? Every chain here holds a story together. You destroy one… and the people written in it vanish."
The world trembled as his body turned to dust.
"Don't—" I reached for him, but my hand passed through empty air.
"Don't stop," Kai said softly, voice almost gone. "End it… even if it means we all fade."
Then he was gone—erased completely. Not even ink remained.
Sera touched my arm, her hand shaking. "Lucien… I'm sorry."
I couldn't answer. My throat burned too much to speak.
We reached the gate in silence. The chains pulsed again, whispering faint words.
Every truth has a price. Every page burned takes a life.
I placed my hand on the metal. It was warm—alive. "If this is what it takes… then I'll carry that sin."
Sera looked at me with eyes that held both fear and love. "Then I'll carry it with you."
Together, we drew our blades and slashed. The chains screamed, the gate trembled—and the entire realm shuddered like a dying heartbeat.
Pages rained from the sky, burning as they fell.
The gate began to open, revealing a brilliant light within—a vast heart made of ink and fire, pulsing to the rhythm of creation itself.
The Author's true body.
And behind the roar of collapsing worlds, I heard his voice once more—calm, infinite, cruel.
"So you found me, villain. Now let's see if you can rewrite destiny without becoming me."
The gate shattered.