[Host is eligible to enter his first Trial.]
[Do you want to proceed?]
Yes / No
Will didn't hesitate.
Without giving it much thought--perhaps without even fully understanding the consequences--he selected "Yes" in his mind.
And just like that, as if the golden screen had been waiting only for that silent affirmation, time itself halted around him.
The monstrous, void-tainted creatures that had been lunging toward him froze mid-motion--twisted limbs and shattered jaws suspended in the air, like a scene carved in ice.
Then, the screen began to rotate.
Its center started to spin slowly, like a divine mechanism activating after eons of slumber. From that turning center, a vortex was born--a suction force so powerful it seemed capable of tearing apart reality. But strangely, this wasn't a physical force. It didn't pull objects, or corpses, or air. It pulled something far more intangible.
It reached inside Will--and ripped out his soul.
In mere moments, Will's spirit was torn from his trembling body and drawn toward the glowing void at the heart of the screen.
It started to vanished, disappearing completely into that swirling hole of golden light.
And yet--even in this frozen moment, even as his soul was being unraveled from the fabric of his flesh--Will could still think.
He could still feel.
And in that fractured space between moments, he finally connected the dots.
The instant he had read that message on the glowing, flickering screen--more specifically, the moment he'd accessed the Akashic Records--a horrifying, impossible understanding had begun to bloom inside him.
Somehow--somehow--he had been transmigrated.
Dragged into the pages of his favorite web novel.
No. This wasn't just some desperate theory crafted by a panicked mind.
Not when he had just barely avoided being devoured alive by a horde of grotesque, soul-hungering abominations.
In this place--this nightmare realm--any theory was possible.
And more importantly, deep down, he knew.
The feeling had been growing stronger ever since he first opened his eyes in this cursed place.
As much as he wanted to deny it… this was the truth.
And truth didn't need belief to exist.
No one was going to care whether he accepted it or not.
Least of all the Voidlings who were frozen mid-leap, jaws open wide, ready to feast on his flesh.
Will tried to remember--how did he end up here?
What was the last thing he could recall before waking up in this grotesque, living hell?
The memory came slowly, hazy but sharp around the edges.
He'd been reading.
The latest chapter of Only One Way to Survive, his all-time favorite progression fantasy novel.
But more specifically… It was the Author's Note.
The mysterious, cryptic message that came at that unfatefull morning.
Something about flipping the game board--rewriting the script--changing the end.
He remembered that as soon as he finished reading that note, a blinding pain had pierced through his skull.
A splitting headache--so sudden, so intense--that he collapsed, blacking out on the spot.
And when he woke up…
He found himself here.
Surrounded by darkness, death, and monsters ripped straight out of imagination's deepest rot.
Only One Way to Survive had always been more than a novel for Will.
For others, it might have been just another fantasy world filled with dungeons, realms, power systems, and chosen ones.
But for him… it was a lifeline.
Because in that world, there was someone.
Someone who had become Will's anchor--his obsession, his silent companion.
Arthur Lightbringer.
The protagonist.
Will didn't just admire him. He needed someone like him in his life.
Arthur wasn't a typical hero.
He wasn't even a proper anti-hero.
You couldn't slap easy labels on him like 'Chosen One' or 'Savior' or 'King of Destiny.'
Arthur was selfish. And at times, cruel.
He want to be selfish--but when the stakes rose high, Arthur was the one who always stood up.
He wasn't selfless… but his sacrifices were always the greatest.
That's what made him special.
Out of the thousands of generic power-fantasy stories, this one remained Will's favorite.
Not because he wanted to be Arthur.
But because Arthur represented the kind of person Will had always wished to have by his side.
Someone who wouldn't leave.
Someone who would survive no matter what.
But just because he loved Arthur didn't mean he wanted to live in Arthur's world.
Just because he admired him like a brother, like a friend… didn't mean they could ever truly be friends.
Because while Arthur always survived…
Those who walked beside him?
They rarely lasted long.
And sometimes, Will wondered if Arthur was the biggest cockroach of them all.
The kind of creature that kept crawling forward, no matter what--no matter who died around him.
Will also remembered something else.
That final Author's Note--the one that had triggered all of this--had been… strange.
More like a warning than a farewell.
The author had spoken of flipping fate.
Of interfering with destiny.
Of taking a world governed by divine threads and rewriting it from the shadows.
But what Will still couldn't understand was:
Why would Arthur--Arthur Lightbringer--fail?
Why wouldn't he complete his journey?
Even though the author never explained how fate truly worked in the novel, one thing was clear:
Fate was absolute.
Everyone had it.
Not even the so-called Grate Gods could escape it.
Sure, they could twist it.
But to fully grasp its essence?
Even they failed.
Which led Will to a terrifying question:
If everything written in that novel was etched into the tapestry of fate…
Then who wrote it?
Who was the author?
What kind of being had the power to script an entire world's destiny into fiction?
But Will didn't want to dwell too long on that.
Because just as fate existed here--so did something else.
The Corruption of the Unknown.
In this place, too much knowledge was dangerous.
Information wasn't just power--it was infection.
Here, knowing more than you should could change you.
Warp you.
Make you less human--and more like the nightmares lurking beyond comprehension.
Will didn't want that.
He didn't want to become some abomination, unknowingly shaped by the truths he uncovered.
And the last thing he wanted was to learn too much about that bastard author.
It was a mercy, perhaps, that the author hadn't dumped every secret of this world into the novel.
Will had always thought the author was lazy with world-building.
But maybe… maybe he'd done it intentionally.
Maybe it was all part of hiding something bigger.
Who could say?
Maybe the author wasn't some divine entity, but just a normal human.
Maybe what was happening to Will wasn't some grand transmigration… but something far more sinister.
Yet amidst all the confusion, all the twisted thoughts and rising dread… one thing became crystal clear.
In this warped chessboard of fate--whether by mistake or by the will of something unknowable--
Those who reach the final square become the Queen.
And a Queen… can flip the entire game alone.
With that final, terrible clarity--
Will enters his first Trial.