The air grew thin and ancient, smelling of mountain mist and wild peaches.
The horizon stretched into an endless vista of jagged peaks and winding yellow-dirt roads.
Above, the sky was a deep, bruised violet, flickering with the static of the Star Stream.
[The Stage: 'The Five Elements Mountain' has been fully manifested.]
['Sun Wukong (The Author of the Void)' is being synchronized.]
Hajin gasped as a searing pressure clamped around his temples.
He reached up, his fingers brushing against a cold, unyielding band of gold.
The Golden Headband.
It wasn't just a physical restraint; through his [Author] trait, he could see the narrative threads emanating from the metal.
He looked down at his clothes.
The sharp black suit of Aether was gone, replaced by a tiger-skin kilt and a simple, flexible yellow tunic.
In his hand, he gripped an iron-black rod that felt oddly heavy, pulsing with a rhythm that matched his heartbeat.
"So this is how it feels," Hajin whispered. He was the character, yet he was also the observer holding the pen. He could feel the eyes of hundreds of viewers on his back, waiting for the "Monkey King" to begin his rampage.
"Hajin? Or should I say... Wukong-ssi?"
Hajin turned.
His companions were there, their forms subtly altered by the scenario's logic.
Boss stood at the center, draped in the flowing white and gold robes of Tang Sanzang.
She looked surprisingly dignified, though her eyes still held that flicker of technological confusion. Cheok Jungyeong was a hulking, bare-chested Zhu Bajie, carrying a massive nine-toothed rake that looked like it could level a mountain.
Khalifa stood as Sha Wujing, his spatial powers manifesting as a necklace of skulls that hummed with blue energy.
Bringing up the rear was a silver-haired man riding a majestic white horse—or rather, the man was the guardian of the horse. Ouroboros, the King of Angels, walked with a deliberate, haunting grace.
"Fate is a clumsy weaver in this realm," Ouroboros said, his silver eyes focusing on Hajin. "Your aura... it resonates with my own. You are of the same Pathway, are you not? The wheel of fortune turns within you."
Hajin paused. "I suppose you could say I'm familiar with the concept of 'Luck'."
Ouroboros shook his head, a look of profound intrigue crossing his soft features.
"It is more than that. I can see the threads of everyone in this group. But you... your fate is a black hole. It is complicated, layered. I cannot see through you, Black Lotus."
Hajin didn't answer.
He looked at the road ahead.
Through his [Thousand-Mile Eyes] the world didn't look like a landscape.
It looked like a raw manuscript.
They began their journey.
As they traveled, the first wave appeared.
A horde of Yogoes—monstrous, twisted entities with the heads of jackals and the bodies of shadows—erupted from the forest.
To the Star Stream, they were just "Mobs."
NPCs, that's what they would be called in the Tower of Wish. Throughout the story Hajin understood that they were no different from 'characters', no, from people. They live their lives. They love. They cry.
Just like him.
Level 1 fodder meant to be slaughtered to show off the Monkey King's power.
But Hajin froze.
Through his [Observation and Reading], he didn't see monster levels.
"IwanttoliveIwanttoliveIwanttoliveIwanttolive!"
"Helphelphelphelphelp"!
These were not just monsters. They were the ghosts of stories that Hajin—or someone like him—had edited out to make the "Main Story" more streamlined. They were the "Outer Gods" used by this myth, the ones who were never allowed to have a name. They were abandoned by Star Stream.
They were Extras.
"I will make you the protagonists," Hajin whispered, his voice cold and determined.
[The
[A number of Constellations are betting on the speed of the massacre!]
"Hajin, move!" Boss called out, her hand reaching for her shadows. "They're surrounding us!"
Hajin didn't move the iron staff.
Instead, he reached for his waist.
The iron-black rod didn't swing; it shifted.
The weapon transformed.
Hajin was done with fake identities.
He wasn't Extra anymore. Just like those Yogoes.
They are the heroes who made the story happen!
The [Desert Eagle] manifested, but it was forged from the same mythic material as the Ruyi Bang.
It was a Golden Ruyi Jingu Bang Pistol, radiating a celestial light.
[Many viewers are enjoying the sudden change!]
[Constellation 'First Bullet Ever Made' offers you sponsorship!]
Hajin pulled the trigger.
The bullet struck the lead Yogoe in the chest. Instead of exploding, the creature froze. The black ink of its body began to swirl and solidify.
[Yogoe #412 is being 'Promoted'!]
[Writing Backstory: 'The Guardian of the Lost Brook'.]
[You aren't a monster,] Hajin said, his voice echoing with the authority of an Author. [You were the one who saved the village children when the drought came. Your story was just... hidden.]
The Star Stream glitched.
The blue windows turned red, then gold.
[The System is being forced to acknowledge a new 'Supporting Character'!]
[A Modifier has been granted: 'Guardian of the Whispering Stream'.]
The Yogoe dropped its rusted blade.
Its eyes, once filled with mindless hunger, cleared into an intelligent blue. It knelt before Hajin, not in defeat, but in reverence. One by one, Hajin fired.
He gave the jackal-beasts names. He gave the shadows a history.
Behind them, the horde of "Monsters" transformed into a phalanx of "Heroic Companions." They began to follow the group, their presence warping the very Probability of the scenario.
The reaction was instantaneous.
[Constellations of the
[The 'Popularity' of the Scenario is plummeting!]
[Constellation 'General of the Heavenly Gates' demands a 'Reset'!]
[Current Rating: 0.2%]
The rating of the scenario dropped from a healthy 8.5% to a near-dead 0.1%.
The Probability sparks were so violent they scorched the trees around the road.
"Haj— Sun Wukong, what are you doing?!" Khalifa asked, his skulls rattling. "The system is going to shut us down if the ratings hit zero!"
"Wait," Boss said, her voice calm and absolute. She sat down on a rock, closing her eyes. She began to recite a Sutra—not of the Buddha, but a mantra of shadow and peace.
The darkness she emitted was so tranquil it began to soothe the "Glitch" in the environment. She was becoming a perfect Tang Sanzang, a stabilizer of narrative chaos.
Suddenly, the rating bar stabilized.
[Three 'Sun Wukongs' have intervened!]
[Constellation 'Most Ancient Liberator' is laughing at the 'Emperor's' pride!]
[Constellation 'Victorious Fighting Buddha' is intrigued by the 'Atonement'!]
[Constellation 'Handsome Monkey King' likes the 'Stylish Revolver'!]
The rating equalized at a steady 5.0%.
The "Real" Sun Wukongs were watching Hajin's remake, and they were voting for the Author.
As the chaos subsided, the group set up camp beneath a glowing willow tree. The "Promoted" Yogoes stood guard at the perimeter, their new names whispered in the wind.
Anna Croft approached Hajin, her blonde hair catching the violet starlight.
She looked at the Yogoes with a strange, knowing smile.
"You are stealing the Probability of the Great Fable for yourself, Hajin-ssi. By making them important, you are taking the 'Ink' away from the Emperor."
Hajin looked at her.
"I'm just returning what was stolen. By the way, your sponsor... 'He' seems to enjoy this chaos more than the others."
Anna Croft laughed, a sound like glass breaking.
"My sponsor likes anything that challenges the 'Script'. Only with 'His' help could I survive the fallout in the Demon Realm. 'He' is a creature of genderless change and laughter."
Hajin watched her walk away.
He felt a chill.
He pulled out the [Book of Truth].
«Who is the sponsor of Anna Croft?»
The cost appeared in his mind.
Two full streaks of Stigma.
It was an astronomical price—enough to tell him he was looking into the eyes of a mythic secret.
He bit his lip and agreed.
The white streak burned until it bled into his skin. The text manifested, jagged and unstable.
[Sponsor Identity: Loki.]
[Affiliation:
[Warning: Trace of '■■' detected.]
Hajin stared at the symbols ■■.
Loki from Asgard? It made sense, but the black boxes suggested a status that transcended Norse myth.
He looked toward the horizon, where the Five Elements Mountain stood. He felt a sudden, sharp gaze from above.
In a space beyond the dimensions of the stage, a room existed that was nothing but screens and shifting fables.
Four figures sat in silence, their eyes fixed on the display showing Kim Hajin holding his golden revolver.
The Most Ancient Liberator (The Great Sage).
Douzhanshengfo (The Victorious Fighting Buddha).
Bimawen (The Keeper of Stables).
Meihouwang (The Handsome Monkey King).
Near them, a figure of absolute, golden light stood with hands folded.
Shakyamuni.
The Buddha looked at the screen, his gaze landing on the "Author" who was refusing to kill.
"The headband is still on," Meihouwang muttered, scratching his chin. "But the boy doesn't seem to care."
"He isn't trying to break the lock," Shakyamuni whispered, a small, cryptic smile appearing on his face. "He is trying to rewrite the person who holds the key."
Shakyamuni scanned the room for a brief moment.
"Why do you like him?"
The four Sun Wukongs looked at each other.
"I mean, there aren't that many chambers that you liked so much so far."
He sighed and opened the door.
"I'll go and calm them down."
"He reminds me of someone," the Great Sage said.
Shakyamuni looked back over his shoulder.
"Of him?" Budha's lips curved into a knowing smile.