In a cramped apartment that smelled like microwave ramen and last week's pizza crusts, Asher lay sprawled out on his back, phone hovering inches from his face.Ash—if you didn't wanna get blocked the moment you said his full name. He blamed his mom for that one. Some dumb fantasy novel she liked, probably.
His thumb moved automatically, muscle memory at this point. The screen was pulled up to the final chapter of The Academy's Sword Genius Can't Live a Peaceful Life—a series that started off all cozy and harmless. Magic classes. Dumb harem jokes. Some tragic backstory for flavor. And then?
It went off a cliff.
"What the fuck is this ending?!" he half-yelled at the screen.
THUD!
A sharp bang answered from the other side of the wall. Classic. Miss Kim.His neighbor, age somewhere between 'can still party' and 'post-menopause bitterness.' Widow. Chronic curtain-twitcher. Self-declared queen of noise complaints. She once slipped a note under his door that started off with "Hi neighbor 😊" and ended with something that danced a little too close to a racial slur.
Ash sighed and flopped sideways, face mashed into a pillow. His phone hit the mattress beside him, screen still glowing like the afterimage of a war crime.
The comment section was on fire:
[MoltenMage87]: no way he killed off the cute master like that I SWEAR TO GODDDD[Eggkun]: GOFUNDME TO HIRE A HITMAN ON AUTHOR S WHO'S IN[CrimsonLust]: ten years of setup just to get cucked in the final fight lmfao[seniorturtle]: this man writes like he's actively trying to piss us off[milkofmagnesia]: bro i dropped this shit in 2017 and came back just to watch it burn
Ash kept scrolling, each swipe making the vein near his temple twitch like it was trying to leave his skull.
Ten goddamn years. That's how long people had been on this ride.
Some fans met their partners in the forums. Some had tattoos. Some probably named their kids after characters that got offed in arc two.
And the author? Just S. Not even a username. No interviews. No face. Not even a profile picture. Blank bio. No Patreon. No merch. No "thank you for reading."
The chapters just dropped, raw and unedited, like the guy was vomiting them straight into the void.
And at first, that mystery? It added to the magic.
Back in the early days—before the pacing went to shit and the plot spiraled into cosmic depression—the fandom was insane in the best way.
New chapter dropped? Boom. Bloodbath in the comment section.
People made memes like it paid rent. Fan dubs, crack edits, TikToks, fake trailers with stolen anime clips and dramatic music overlays.
And the ships.
God, the ships.
There was Team Cold Genius Mage™ who secretly stitched plushies on his off days.
There was the tomboy swordswoman who punched the MC's teeth in during her intro scene.
And then there was that quiet girl who got like twenty lines across three hundred chapters—and somehow ended up with a cult that worshipped her like she was story Jesus.
Some folks thought it was gonna end in a harem.
They held out.
They believed.
But nah. Not a chance.
After all the flirting, all the tension, all the slow burns and accidental boob grabs and midnight training sessions under starry skies—
It ended with a punch straight to the throat.
The MC—one of the strongest fighters in the world (not the strongest, just under that broken-ass monk from the Western Empire)—
He lost everything. His strength, his lovers, his future.
The final arcs went full cosmic horror.
Skies split open. Old gods, the ones hinted at in throwaway lines from the prologue, actually showed up. No metaphor. No cryptic visions.
Real. Physical. Colossal. Older than language.
And they won.
Just like that.
The world ended.
The fandom went full rabid. Like actual foaming-at-the-mouth, pitchforks-and-fire levels of rage.
Petitions popped up overnight.
Boycotts.
Death threats.
People trying to find the author's IP, doxx him, cancel him, summon him through a goddamn blood ritual—anything.
But there was nothing.
No email. No socials. No bank trail. Not even a burner Patreon.
Author S didn't just disappear.
He never existed in the first place.
No breadcrumbs. No leaks. No "final thanks" page. Just that last soul-destroying chapter and… silence.
Well. Silence except for the period.
People dug into the code of the site itself—yes, the code.
Some were convinced there'd be a secret message. A final hint. A goodbye.
But all they found was a single dot. A fucking period, just floating at the end of the HTML like God reached down and gave the middle finger in Morse code.
And then came the real pain.
The worst part.
That one character.
That weird, quiet bastard who showed up near the last third of the story—barely said anything, barely had any screentime—but had a character description longer than the Bible.
Something about his eyes being "like pale glass reflecting an unseen moon," whatever the fuck that meant.
The fandom didn't think too hard at the time. Just another weird NPC, maybe a red herring. Some side villain to pad Kaine's arc.
But then the story swerved.
And shit.
Hit.
The fan.
He wasn't the final boss.
He wasn't the mastermind.
He wasn't even a proper arc villain.
He was just a monster.
And when Kaine—the MC—got captured during one of the final skirmishes, that son of a bitch walked straight into the imperial chamber…
and raped the princess.
The main heroine.
The one girl Kaine had spent the entire series protecting, bonding with, growing with—
Gone.
And after? He killed her. Cold. Detached. Like he was flicking dust off his sleeve.
It didn't matter that Kaine ripped him apart later—literally tore him open in what might be the most violent scene in all modern fiction.
The damage was done.
The fandom broke.
They knew. From that moment on, nothing was sacred. No one was safe.
God. The Kaine-sexuals were out in full force tonight.
Same old crew. Same old delusion.
The stans who treated Kaine like some misunderstood tragic icon, like he didn't fumble the bag harder than anyone in fantasy novel history. Ash never got it. To him, Kaine was just another edgy, overpowered, emotionally constipated harem MC with unresolved daddy trauma.
Got blessed during his big-ass awakening? Cool.
Got a sword that could cut through dimensions? Whatever.
Still somehow managed to cry and sulk his way into a loss. Embarrassing.
Ash groaned and pushed himself off the bed, bones creaking like furniture someone should've thrown out two leases ago. His phone slid off his chest and hit the floor with a soft thmp, still open to a thread titled:
"Top 10 Reasons Why Author S Deserves to Burn in Digital Hell."
He shuffled over to the fridge. Opened it. Immediately regretted that decision.
Empty.
A single sad slice of expired bread in a plastic bag. A crusty packet of soy sauce tucked into the back corner like it was trying to hide.
He stood there a second, staring into the void of his fridge like it might sprout a miracle. Nothing happened.
"...Right," he muttered. The door thudded shut.
His stomach growled like it was personally offended by his life choices. Hunger or rage—it was hard to tell what he was feeling more right now, but one of them needed to be fed before he threw himself out the window.
Ash grabbed his old slides, slipped them on with a lazy shuffle, and yanked the umbrella from its hook. He paused at the door. Looked out the little window next to it. Midnight sky, pitch black, clouds crowding out the stars like a bad mood waiting to pour.
As he opened the door, the rain came.
Not a sprinkle. Not a warning drizzle. It just dumped.
Of course it did.
He let out a sigh, deep and full of that kind of tired only people with dead dreams and internet addictions really know. Then popped the umbrella open and headed down the hallway of his apartment building.
One hand held the umbrella. The other? Still glued to his phone.
Even after everything, he couldn't stop scrolling. Brain still fried from the ending. Heart still halfway broken, halfway pissed. But god, the comment section was still gold.
[murderbunny07]: we got gaslit, backstabbed, and emotionally wrecked… and we PAID NOTHING FOR IT.
[crustypage]: someone said kaine was just sad sasuke with a better jawline and i haven't known peace since.
[sixthcirclewaifu]: the final boss wasn't the dark gods it was S's refusal to give us closure.
[Eggkun] (again): fundraising 2k USD to put 'Author S was a coward' on a Times Square billboard.
Ash snorted. Let out a little laugh. Not because anything was funny, but because it hurt too much not to laugh at this point.
Say what you want, this fandom was fucking unhinged. Pure madness. No rules. No brakes. Just horny rage and caffeine. Other fandoms had drama. This one? FBI watchlists and public meltdowns. Ash was proud to be a part of it.
Rain slapped the plastic top of his umbrella, soft and steady. The streetlights reflected in the puddles, little halos of pale orange rippling as he walked.
Store was close. A block or two away. Maybe some tuna mayo onigiri, a can of Red Bull, and a little more hate-scrolling would fix whatever was left of his soul.
He glanced at the screen again. Big mistake.
Another Kaine-sexual was posting.
He stopped walking.
Stood dead in the street.
Rain falling all around him. Umbrella up. Thumb frozen.
Staring at the screen like it had spit in his face.
[edgingInEva01]: Kaine did all he could, he wasn't supposed to win at the first place.
[edgingInEva01]: lol u say that like u'd do better than Kaine, or any characters in the story
Ash's eye twitched.
Lip curled.
Neck cracked.
Fingers flexed like he was about to reach through the screen and slap someone.
He didn't hesitate. Just started typing.
Ash:
Motherfucker if I was in the story, those Outer God monsters could suck my dick. Kaine sat there monologuing while the sky fell. I would've suplexed all of them and kissed the elf princess on the way down.
Still not done.
Ash:
Bro had plot armor thicker than NASA walls and still fumbled. He got every broken relic, blessed by space, fire, time, light, darkness—shit, probably got kissed by fate too—and still choked. How you go out 3–1 like the 2016 Warriors? That's not tragic. That's just sad. Guess those dark gods were LeBron James, huh?
He hit send.
Looked at it with the kind of satisfaction you only get from being right on the internet.
The street was quiet again. Just the wet slap of his slides against the ground and the soft glow of the convenience store ahead. A tiny moment of peace. He let out another long sigh, breath misting in the cold air.
"Man... I really gotta do something about this anger thing."
He looked down at a puddle. His reflection stared back, distorted and ghostly. He rubbed a hand over his face and kept walking.
And then—
SCREEEEEEEECH—
Tires screamed on wet asphalt.
Ash's head snapped up.
Headlights.
Close.
Too close.
A delivery truck was barreling down the road. Swerving. Fishtailing. Brakes squealing but not working. The driver's face behind the glass was locked in panic, mouth open like he was screaming something that wouldn't matter in three seconds.
Ash didn't even move.
Couldn't.
His body just locked. One final, dumb moment of realization.
"Oh, sh—"
CRACK.
The truck hit him like a steel wall.
Everything flipped. Spun.
The umbrella flew.
His phone vanished into the dark.
He felt air, then pavement, then nothing.
He landed hard. Wet slap against cold concrete. Pain bloomed fast, everywhere. Every inch of his body lit up like it was screaming. Then it faded just as fast. Replaced by a heavy, dull nothing. No strength. No feeling.
His limbs weren't limbs anymore. Just weights. Useless bags of meat. His chest rose once. Shallow. Then again. Slower.
Rain kept falling.
He couldn't move. Could barely even blink. His face was half-pressed to the pavement, eyes blurry, cheek soaking in a puddle that tasted like dirt and oil. The streetlight above flickered once, then held steady, humming like it didn't even notice him.
All he could see was the sky. Cloudy. Pale stars behind the rain.
Still there. Still watching.
Ash coughed. Tried to. Just a wet gurgle.
His mouth moved, barely.
"Motherfucker…"
And then—
Black.