It had been a long time since I last wrote anything worth reading. Every novel I created seemed cursed to one of two fates—either it flopped so disastrously that even calling it a "bad ending" felt generous, or it exploded in popularity until countless others began copying it.
There was never a middle ground.
Perhaps that was why I decided this would be my final story. The last novel I would ever write.
{The World After the Hero Died}
Rating: 4.3 ★ (674 Reviews)
Description:
Leon Bridges was born in the aftermath of a hero's death. With the Demon King's army victorious and the world on the brink of ruin, Leon swore to end the darkness once and for all. To fulfill that oath, he enrolled in the Heroes Academy—determined to become the next great savior.
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This was my last novel—my greatest masterpiece.
It had already received a comic adaptation, and soon, an anime would follow. Once I finished this story, I could finally retire from the exhausting world of writing.
◇◇◇
Click. Click. Click.
The rhythmic tapping of keys echoed through the dark room. Without that sound, the place would have been unbearably silent, suffocatingly empty.
When was the last time I ate something?
My room had always been dark. Light only meant higher electricity bills, and I had long stopped caring about that. Trash had piled up in corners, an unholy mountain built from nights spent writing instead of living.
All I wanted was to finish this last arc. I had written so many side stories that I had almost forgotten the main plot itself.
"…And with that, my novel ends."
The words left my mouth in a shaky breath. Relief washed over me—the kind that comes when chains finally break. I was free from the shackles of writing.
"Let's get something to eat," I muttered, pushing back my chair.
The moment I tried to stand, my legs buckled beneath me. My vision blurred. As I fell to the floor, only one thought lingered in my fading mind:
I forgot to upload the goodbye chapter.
Then, darkness claimed me.
---
When I opened my eyes again, my body felt strangely light. I was still in my room—or at least, it looked like it. Yet somehow, I was standing upright.
"Is this… astral projection?" I murmured.
"Nope. You're dead, mister."
The voice belonged to a young woman dressed in a sharp black suit. She stood beside me, expression unreadable, and pointed toward the floor.
There, lying motionless, was my own body.
"That," she said calmly, "is your corpse."
"So… I'm already dead?"
"Yes, mister. You're dead," the woman replied casually. "You lived a normal life—an exhausting one, I'll admit—but through that life, you wrote stories that filled the lives of countless others."
"And what does that have to do with me?" I asked, crouching to touch my own corpse. My hand passed through it like mist.
"That means," she said with a faint smile, "you'll be reincarnated into one of the novels you wrote."
My eyes widened. Reincarnated? That was something I had never believed in. Death was supposed to be the end, not a transition. Still, I couldn't deny that I had written my fair share of reincarnation stories.
"So… which story will I be reincarnated into?"
"Well," she said, crossing her arms, "that's up to you."
I thought back over my career. Seventeen novels in total. Seventeen different worlds. Some were masterpieces, others were disasters—but only a few had what I could call a happy ending.
1. Cooking Is My Life
A world built entirely around cooking. Everything—battles, survival, even death—revolved around food. If I were reincarnated there, I'd give it a solid 6 out of 10. Manageable.
2. The World After the Good Ending
A story about an NPC living peacefully in a world that had already reached its happy ending. 9 out of 10. If I chose this world, I might actually enjoy my second life.
3. The World After the Hero Died
My final novel. The hardest, darkest one I ever wrote. Life there was brutal—nobles clawed for power, peasants struggled to survive, and hope was scarce. If I had to rate it, I'd give it a 5 out of 10. But it was my last story… so maybe it should be my last life, too.
"I choose The World After the Hero Died," I said firmly.
The woman's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "A perfect choice. It's my favorite among all your works."
Before I could respond, she snapped her fingers.
"The world awaits you. Good luck, mister."
A blinding light swallowed my vision.
And just like that… my new story began.
◇◇◇
"Ash… wake up. We've already arrived."
A soft, soothing voice stirred me from the depths of sleep. Slowly, my eyes fluttered open, greeted by the gentle sway of a carriage interior. Warm sunlight streamed through the small window, painting the wooden walls in gold.
My head rested on someone's lap—soft, warm, and strangely comforting.
"Good morning, Ash. Did you sleep well?"
The voice belonged to a woman whose tone was as calm and melodic as an angel's.
"Where… am I?" I asked, my throat dry and my head heavy with confusion.
She let out a quiet sigh, brushing a strand of hair away from my forehead. "It seems you've slept for far too long, Ash. You've even forgotten where we are."
I slowly lifted my head from her lap and sat beside her. The woman had long, golden hair that shimmered faintly in the sunlight and eyes as green as polished emeralds—eyes that spoke of noble lineage. Her face was breathtaking, yet, strangely, I felt no trace of lust. Only familiarity, as if I had seen her somewhere before.
"Sorry… I might've been half-asleep," I said, rubbing my temple.
As my vision cleared, fragments of someone else's memories began to seep into my mind—names, faces, places that weren't mine. It wasn't reincarnation, not exactly. It felt more like I had taken over another person's body.
But whose body was it?
A small thud broke my thoughts. An identification card had fallen onto my lap. I picked it up, and the moment my eyes focused on the name printed below the photograph, my breath caught.
---
Name: Ash Monterro
Age: 15
Ability: Magic
Rank: 387
---
Ash Monterro… That name. I knew it. I had written it before.
"Come on, Ash. Let's get out of the carriage and head to the Academy," the woman said softly.
"Ah—yes, sure," I replied automatically.
Stepping down from the carriage, my eyes widened at the sight before me. The city stretched out in brilliant splendor—a place that looked as though it had been pulled straight from a fairy tale. White marble buildings gleamed under the sun, and the cobblestone streets were spotless, filled with the faint hum of magic in the air.
There was only one place this could be.
Elfanveil City.
The City of Greatness. The very heart of my own creation. This was where the Hero's Academy stood… and where the hero himself was born.
"Let's hurry," the woman said, taking my hand with surprising familiarity. She guided me through the bustling streets, her pace graceful yet determined.
We walked in silence, and before I even realized it, we stood before massive iron gates adorned with intricate golden patterns.
The Heroes Academy.
The place where my story began—
and where my new life, as someone else, would begin as well.
To be continued