The system's cold voice faded, but its echo clung to me like ink stains that refused to wash away.
Bug in the Story.
Even breathing felt heavier now, as if the label itself warped the air around me, pressing against my lungs with invisible weight.
Around me, the plaza was chaos wrapped in silence—thousands of survivors trying to understand what had just happened, millions dead across the globe, and me standing there with a brand stamped onto my very existence.
Bug.
Not hero. Not survivor. Not chosen.
Bug.
I could feel the gazes sticking to me like hooks. Some wide-eyed, some suspicious, some already hateful. It wasn't just a word. It was a verdict. A curse. A warning that I didn't belong in this script the world had been forced into.
And yet, the system had spoken. No appeal. No mercy.
✦
Rewards came next.
[Scenario Clear: First Hour.]
The words rang across the plaza, steady and merciless.
[Distributing Rewards…]— Kael Arathis: +20 Stat Boost, Skill Book (Hero's Strike), Title: Hero of the First Hour.— Ishaan Reed: +8 Stat Boost, Growth Weapon Upgrade, Title: The One Who Breaks the Script.— Survivors: Stat Boost +3.
The plaza erupted in whispers.
Kael's prize glowed around him like a coronation. His body shone with a faint golden aura, muscles taut and flawless, the skill book in his hands gleaming like a relic from a higher plane. The title hovered above him, bold letters that seemed carved in fire: Hero of the First Hour.
Mine… mine hissed like a warning.
The One Who Breaks the Script.
Not inspiring. Not divine. Dangerous.
I clenched my fists as the system burned those words into the air above me. Survivors pointed. Murmured. Some even backed away.
Breaking the script wasn't heroic. It was… unnatural.
And for the first time, I felt the difference between Kael and me solidify into something unbridgeable. He was the hero chosen to lead Earth's resistance. I was the mistake the system couldn't delete.
✦
And then came the recruiters.
The moment the plaza stabilized, glowing rifts tore through the air. One by one, armored figures stepped through gates of flame, starlight, and shadow.
Envoys from the Dimensional Guilds.
Each radiated power older than Earth itself. Their banners flared in the windless air: red cloth dripping with flame sigils, golden robes embroidered with constellations, sleek black suits humming with shifting runes. They carried themselves with the calm arrogance of predators used to walking into ruined worlds and plucking champions from the rubble.
Their voices carried authority, practiced over centuries of recruitment.
One stepped forward, his crimson armor blazing like molten steel. He bowed low before Kael, his voice echoing through the plaza.
"Kael Arathis," he declared, every syllable polished with reverence. "The Burning Blade Guild offers you command of our expeditionary forces. You are destined for greatness. Follow us, and entire dimensions will bend to your strike."
Another interrupted, his robes shimmering like the night sky itself. "The Celestial Archive welcomes you. Share your path, and we will share the knowledge of a thousand conquered realms."
A third envoy, dressed in black and silver, gave a shallow nod. "The Obsidian Pact requires no speeches. Power will be yours, so long as you take it with blood."
Kael stood at the center of it all, silent and proud. The survivors surged closer, their cheers swelling again, voices rising in a tide of worship.
Hero. Savior. The one destined to lead.
✦
Me?
The recruiters' gazes slid toward me… and soured like spoiled wine.
"That one." The red envoy's lip curled, disgust twisting his face. "The bug."
"He shouldn't even exist," muttered the gold-robed scholar, as if I were an offensive footnote in his perfect records.
But the third one—the smirking man in black—studied me differently. His eyes glimmered with a predator's amusement. "Or perhaps," he said slowly, "that is exactly why we want him."
I stiffened under his gaze. It wasn't admiration. It was curiosity, the kind you gave to a venomous snake in a glass cage.
✦
Then came the offers. Sharp. Tempting. Poison wrapped in honey.
"Join us, Quill," the black envoy said smoothly. "The Obsidian Pact thrives on those the system rejects. We'll hide your anomaly. We'll make the world kneel for your ink."
The robed scholar spoke next, voice cool, calculated. "The Celestial Archive values… irregularities. Share your anomaly with us, and we will ensure your survival. In return, you will be our subject, our study."
The armored knight sneered. "The Burning Blade does not tolerate weakness. But even a bug has uses—if you kneel."
Each voice struck me like a blade angled toward my throat.
And then Dev's grip tightened on my arm. His hand trembled, his eyes wide with fear.
"Ishaan," he whispered urgently, "maybe you should accept one. It's protection. They'll kill you otherwise."
His words sank like stones in my chest. He wasn't wrong. Alone, I was marked. An easy target. The guilds could shield me. Give me power. Give me safety.
But at what cost?
Protection… or a leash?
✦
The Rewrite window flickered into existence before my eyes.
Sentence: Ishaan Reed bowed his head, joining the guild.
Rewrite? (Y/N)
My lips twisted.
My finger pressed Y.
Sentence: Ishaan Reed lifted his head, rejecting every guild.
And the words rolled out of my mouth like fire.
"No."
The recruiters froze.
"I don't bow," I said, voice rough, raw, and final. "Not to guilds. Not to gods. Not to anyone."
✦
The system shivered. The very air around me quaked as if the world itself hadn't expected my defiance.
[Title Acquired: Quill of Defiance.]
The words burned into the sky, visible to every survivor, every envoy, every watching god.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The envoys stiffened, their authority cracking like glass. Even Kael—Hero of the First Hour—turned his head toward me, his expression unreadable. For the first time, I saw curiosity flicker in his eyes. Not admiration. Not friendship. Just… interest.
✦
Mirae's voice cut through the silence like a blade dipped in sugar.
"OOOOH! Did you hear that, viewers?" she squealed, her laughter bubbling like champagne. "The bug just told every guild to shove it! Lone wolf, defiant, spicy! I am LIVING for this!"
The broadcast chat exploded like fireworks:
"Bro just rejected protection?? He's dead.""Nah, that's badass.""Quill of Defiance >>> Hero of the First Hour.""I ship Bug x Mirae now.""Delete your account."
I groaned aloud. "Great. Now I'm meme fodder."
The system, of course, piled on mercilessly:
[The gods roar with laughter.][Some gods mark you for death.][Others mark you for favor.]
Every word was a chain and a crown at once.
✦
The guild envoys' smiles faded into something darker.
"You'll regret this," the knight hissed, sparks hissing from his crimson armor. "No bug lasts long without a leash."
The robed scholar gave me one last contemptuous glance, muttering something about variables collapsing.
The smirking envoy in black, however, lingered. He didn't threaten. He didn't sneer. He only smiled, slow and sharp, as if I had just confirmed everything he'd hoped. Then he vanished through his gate, leaving the stench of ozone in his wake.
And just like that, they were gone.
Leaving only survivors' stares—half fear, half awe—burning into my back.
✦
Kael turned his back to me, letting the guilds swarm him with praise, offers, and reverence. He didn't need to say anything out loud. His silence said enough.
You're playing a dangerous game, Quill.
And I knew he was right.
But I also knew this:
If my story was going to be written, it would be in my ink.
Not theirs.
✦