"Go fuck yourself!"
A young-looking student stood in the middle of an alley, screaming at the sky. He'd been shouting all kinds of nonsense for at least an hour.
A few students passed by, some casting him strange looks, but no one stopped. At the Royal Academy, students breaking down in public wasn't exactly rare. Some snapped over their grades, others over combat injuries, failed awakenings, or public humiliation. Compared to all that, this guy's ranting felt like amateur work.
"Send me back right the fuck now!"
"I don't belong here!"
"I created this place!"
That last line made me stop.
Unlike the others, I didn't keep walking. Instead, I sat down at the entrance of the alley, just close enough to hear him without drawing attention.
He wasn't crying. He wasn't panicking. His words weren't coming from stress or failure.
They came from somewhere else entirely.
"If you were gonna send me here, you could've at least dropped me into the protagonist's body!" he shouted, pacing back and forth. "But no, of course not. You stuck me in some extra's skin. What a cliché."
What a nutjob, I thought.
But then—just when I expected another scream—he went silent.
Unnaturally silent.
So much so that I started to wonder if he'd just collapsed or died.
I leaned over and peeked into the alley.
His face was right there, just inches from mine.
"You..." he whispered.
His eyes widened.
A grin stretched across his face, slow and unnatural, then—
"HAHAHA!"
"I remember you! God, it was fun pouring all my rage into making your character suffer."
I stared back at him, confused.
His grin widened further, eyes lighting up with a strange glee.
"What was your name again?" he said, tilting his head mockingly. "Ah, right. Caedrel Ratton. Named you after that Twitchy streamer. I always hated that guy."
What the hell is this guy talking about? I thought. How does he know my name? I've never seen him before.
"I've got an offer for you," he said, stepping closer. "Look, I know none of this makes sense, but it's simple. I created you. I made your life hell. I wrote every single failure into your bones."
I tensed.
"Unfortunately, while I was building your character," he continued, "I accidentally gave you a hidden ability. One that only activates when certain... conditions are met. Like, for example—"
He raised a fist.
"—your death."
He swung.
It was slow. Awkward. Telegraphed.
I stepped to the side.
"Fuck," he hissed. "How'd you dodge that? You're supposed to be the weakest."
He kept coming, flailing wildly, spitting and cursing.
"Die, die, DIE!"
I could hear it in his voice now. It wasn't an act.
He genuinely wanted to kill me.
One of his swings grazed my cheek. Too close.
I grabbed his arm and pulled free, stepping back into a defensive stance. He was untrained, but manic enough to be dangerous.
"If I kill you," he snarled, "then I get to rewrite everything. I become the most powerful being in this goddamn universe!"
His eyes were glowing with madness now. He charged again.
I couldn't dodge forever.
As he lunged, I slipped under his arm and shoved him hard in the chest.
His foot caught on a loose bottle.
He staggered backward.
Then—crack.
The back of his skull slammed into the corner of a rusted metal garbage bin. Blood spilled instantly, trailing down the side.
He dropped.
Dead.
[You have killed the Author.]
[You have inherited the Author's Authority.]
[Authority Rank: Absolute]
[Authority Mastery: G]
[Unlocked Authority Powers: Inspect & Modify, Mind Reading]
[Inspect & Modify]: You can view the character profiles of anyone you see and modify your own profile.
[Mind Reading]: You can hear the thoughts of important characters.
I stared, frozen.