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Chapter 1 - trigger

Blood dripped from his fingertips like melted ink.

The air was silent, and yet every thread of reality vibrated with something ancient

a scream that hadn't yet escaped…a word that was never meant to be spoken. He stood on a floating shard of what once was a world, surrounded by ruins of fading timelines, shadows of protagonists that never lived, and gods who begged for endings.

A voice deep, warm, confident spoke above him: "You finally made it, Yoruzen."

"You've broken every rule. Defied every fate. Sacrificed every love."

"But this… this is where you stop."

"This is where your story ends."

And there he was—The Narrator himself.

Not a man. Not a god. But a Presence,

cloaked in stardust and author's ink,

his face shifting between all the people Yoruzen once trusted. His voice sounded like every loved one… and every betrayer.

Yoruzen looked up, eyes glowing with unreadable madness. He was calm. Too calm. In his right hand was a broken quill made from the spine of a dead god.

In his left the soul of his final self, bound in flame.

"You wrote me wrong," Yoruzen whispered,

"You made me a villain."

"You took her from me... again."

"You thought I'd just keep playing."

The Narrator laughed.

"And yet, here you are still inside the tale I wove."

But Yoruzen smiled… slowly.

"No."

"Now I'm writing you out."

With one movement, he threw the god-spine quill upward, piercing the sky, cutting through panels of narration itself. Reality fractured like glass, exposing the core script where the story's true source was hidden.

The System screamed:

ERROR: NARRATIVE CORE BREACH DETECTED

WARNING: WRITER ENTITY UNDER ATTACK

And then. Yoruzen whispered a single line. A line readers will wait chapters maybe hundreds to fully understand.

"This story doesn't need a narrator…

It needs a witness."

As the world collapsed, and gods died one final time, Yoruzen stepped forward not as a hero. Not as a villain. But as the first character to ever erase the author.

📖 And somewhere… a reader blinked.

The page was still turning.

But this time, the story was staring back.

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