The plaza reeked of iron and smoke.
Half the survivors were already dead, their bodies torn apart by hounds that moved like shadows with teeth. The rest huddled together behind Kael Arathis, chanting his name as though he were Moses parting the sea, as though belief alone could keep them safe.
And me?
I was busy trying not to throw up.
My hand trembled around the pen-dagger, its faint glow barely visible beneath the thick layer of blood coating the blade. Every swing I made was sloppy. Every stab was a gamble between life and death.
And yet… I was still alive.
That had to count for something. Right?
✦
Kael surged forward, smashing another hound into the concrete with his bare hands. His movements were art—raw, brutal art carved from muscle and fury.
The crowd roared. Hope clung to him like a crown.
Then the system chimed.
[Kael Arathis has slain 27 enemies.][Kael Arathis has earned Bonus Reward: Stat Boost +5.]
I swore under my breath. "Of course he gets bonuses. Plot armor much?"
My own kill count? A pathetic three.
…Okay, fine. Two and a half. That last one technically tripped on rubble before I stabbed it.
Still. Alive was alive.
✦
Another hound lunged, jaws snapping toward me.
Its teeth sank into my shoulder.
No. Not this time.
[Sentence: The hound ripped off Ishaan's arm.]
[ Rewrite? (Y/N)]
I slammed Y.
[Sentence: The hound's jaws snapped shut on empty air.]
Reality shivered. The monster blinked, confused, jaws closing on nothing.
My blade found its throat.
Blood sprayed. The hound collapsed at my feet.
And the system… paused.
Then it spoke.
[Participant Ishaan Reed has earned Title: The Lone Quill.]
The announcement boomed across the plaza.
Every survivor turned.
Kael froze mid-strike, his sharp eyes narrowing.
The crowd murmured. "Who? The Lone what?"
✦
Then another message followed.
[The gods are watching.]
A chill spidered down my spine.
I blinked and saw it. A cascade of whispers only I seemed to hear.
[A God of Stories chuckles at the irony.][A Battle Deity scoffs at your cowardly tactics.][An Unknown God leans closer, intrigued.]
My mouth went dry.
The gods. Actual gods. Watching. Betting. Commentating.
On me.
✦
Kael's voice cut through the whispers.
"You."
I looked up. His gaze burned into me, sharp enough to cut steel.
"That trick you just pulled. What was it?"
My lips curved despite the fear clawing at my chest. "Wouldn't you like to know, Hero?"
His eyes darkened.
This wasn't admiration. This wasn't brotherhood.
This was rivalry.
✦
The massacre hadn't even ended when the air rippled again.
A glowing screen burst into existence above the plaza, projecting words in every direction:
[Dimensional Broadcast Activated.]
For a moment, silence fell.
Then came the voices.
Billions of voices.
"Who's the black-haired guy punching monsters?""Oh my god, is this Earth's first scenario?""Weaklings, all of them. My dimension cleared this tutorial in ten minutes."
The plaza filled not just with blood and screams but with commentary. A cosmic livestream.
And at the center of it all was a new voice, bright and playful:
"Helloooooo, viewers from across dimensions! This is Mirae, your favorite commentator of blood, tears, and questionable life choices! Today we're watching Earth's First Scenario: The Prologue of Survival!"
✦
I blinked up at the glowing screen. A young woman's face beamed back—short hair dyed electric blue, eyes sparkling like she was born to be on camera.
She winked. "And what do we have here? Ooooh, interesting! Kael Arathis, already titled Hero of the First Hour. Textbook protagonist energy. Bets stacking high on him already, folks."
The crowd around Kael roared at her words, feeding off the attention.
Kael didn't flinch. He just kept fighting—focused, efficient, terrifying.
Then Mirae's gaze slid directly onto me.
"And what's this? What's this?? Someone else got a Title already?!"
Her grin widened. "The Lone Quill. Ohhh, mysterious. Viewers, can we talk about this? Survives alone, writes his own path… spooky! A god's favorite, perhaps?"
✦
The survivors turned toward me again. Murmurs spread like wildfire.
"That guy? The one with the dagger?""What does a quill even mean in a fight?""But he killed one earlier, I saw it!"
My face burned. I wanted to melt into the concrete.
Meanwhile, Mirae cackled. "Ooooh, he's blushing! Look at him, viewers! Someone screenshot that."
I hissed under my breath. "Kill me now."
The system, unhelpfully, replied with a new line:
[The gods are laughing at your embarrassment.]
I groaned. "Of course they are."
✦
Kael finally turned, eyes narrowing at me. The cheers, the whispers, the attention—it was supposed to be his.
Our gazes met across the chaos.
"You're in my way," he said flatly.
I gripped my pen-blade tighter, forcing a smirk. "Correction: I'm rewriting the way."
His jaw tightened.
✦
Mirae squealed like she'd just been handed free popcorn.
"Ohoho! Viewers, did you hear that? Spicy rivalry incoming! Hero vs. Quill, who ya betting on?"
The dimensional chat exploded with wagers.
"Kael all the way. Guy's a monster.""Nah, I like the quill dude. He's funny.""Funny doesn't survive scenarios, idiot.""Shut up, I'm shipping them already."
✦
The system chimed again:
[First Hour, 15 minutes remaining.]
The ground cracked. A deeper roar shook the plaza.
Mirae's grin widened. "Aaaand here it comes, viewers! The Boss of the First Hour! Place your bets now!"
The survivors screamed, clustering behind Kael.
And me?
I looked down at my glowing pen-dagger. It pulsed like it was alive, whispering for me to write.
Mirae's voice rang in my ears, sing-song.
"And don't look away, folks. Because something tells me our little Lone Quill might just surprise us."
✦
The plaza trembled as a massive shadow unfurled from the darkness.
Hounds scattered as something far larger pushed through—the true boss of the scenario. Its form shifted like smoke given flesh, its jaws lined with endless rows of teeth. Eyes like burning coals fixed on us.
The survivors shrieked. Kael stepped forward, fists clenched, eyes ablaze with determination.
And me?
I tightened my grip on Inkslayer. The whispers of the Unknown Origin curled around me again, invisible to all but my ears.
[Unknown Origin: "The Quill writes his first line. Let's see if you survive the draft."]
I swallowed hard.
Because whether I liked it or not…
My story had started.
And the world—no, the cosmos—was watching.