I didn't sleep. Not really.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the digital text of my novel scrolling behind my eyelids. "The moon was occluded by a sickly violet haze, and the first cry of the abyss tore through the silence of Oakhaven." I sat up in the hay, my body shivering. The temperature had dropped. In this world, the "Blight" wasn't just monsters; it was an environmental collapse. It brought an unnatural, soul-chilling cold that bypassed wool and leather.
[Estimated Time until 'Blight-Wolf' Breach: 34 Hours, 12 Minutes.]
I had a little over a day.
I spent the morning helping the Valerius' only remaining servant—a half-blind old woman named Martha—scrub the stone floors. She didn't ask questions. To her, I was just another stray dog looking for a porch. By noon, I found what I was looking for.
Hestor's armory.
It wasn't a room; it was a glorified closet under the stairs. Hestor was sitting on a stool, meticulously oiling a longsword. This was the "Silver Oak" blade, an heirloom of a dying house.
In the original script, this was the tragedy: "The blade, weakened by decades of neglect and microscopic fractures, shattered upon impact with the Blight-Wolf's obsidian hide."
Hestor died because his sword failed him.
"You again," Hestor said without looking up. "Kael is in the courtyard. He's been looking for his 'training partner.'"
"I'll go in a minute, My Lord," I said, leaning against the doorframe. I inhaled the scent of oil and cold steel. "That's a beautiful sword."
"It's a heavy burden," Hestor replied, his voice tinged with the weariness of a man who knew his glory days were behind him.
I walked closer, my heart hammering. "My Lord... back in the village, the old men are talking. They say the cattle are acting strange. Refusing to eat. Staring at the woods."
Hestor paused. His grip on the whetstone tightened. "Animals are temperamental, boy."
"They say the water in the creek tasted like copper this morning," I added, piling on the lies. There was no copper taste yet, but there would be. "And the birds... have you noticed, My Lord? They've stopped singing since noon."
Now, Hestor turned to look at me. His eyes were no longer those of a bored noble, but of a commander. He knew that in the Borderlands, nature's silence was a death sentence.
"What are you trying to say, Mikhail?"
"I'm scared," I said, and for once, I didn't have to act. My voice trembled naturally. "My father used to say that when the woods go silent, the shadows grow teeth. Is the sword... is it ready? Truly ready?"
Hestor looked at the Silver Oak blade. To his eyes, it was perfect. To my "Author's Sight," a faint red hairline fracture glowed near the hilt—a flaw I had written into existence.
"It's fine," he grumbled, though his tone lacked conviction.
"The blacksmith in the village... he's a drunk," I whispered, "but he has a jar of 'Sun-Salt'—that white powder used for purifying iron. If you rubbed it into the steel and tempered it once more over a high flame... maybe it would be stronger?"
Hestor laughed, a short, dry bark. "Sun-Salt is for mages and master smiths, boy. We have none of that here."
"I saw a jar of it in the old ruins by the creek," I lied. This was a Hidden Piece. I knew it was there because I'd placed it there for Kael to find three years later in the original timeline. "I can get it. If it helps the sword."
Hestor stared at me for a long time. I could see the gears turning. He didn't believe in omens, but he was a father. He looked toward the courtyard where Kael was shouting, swinging his wooden stick at a straw dummy.
"The ruins are dangerous," Hestor said.
"I'm small. I'm fast," I replied. "Let me go. Please."
Hestor reached into his pocket and threw me a small dagger in a worn leather sheath. "Take this. If you're not back by sunset, I'm locking the gate."
I didn't wait. I sprinted.
The ruins were two miles into the forest. The air here felt thick, like walking through invisible cobwebs. This was the "Miasma." It shouldn't be here yet. The apocalypse was ahead of schedule.
The world is reacting to me, I realized, my lungs burning as I ran. Because I'm changing the script, the 'Blight' is accelerating to compensate.
I found the stone chest buried under a pile of rotted leaves near the creek. My small fingers clawed at the dirt until the nails bled. I pried the lid open. Inside was a small, sealed glass jar of shimmering white powder.
[Item Found: High-Grade Solar Flux (Sun-Salt).]
[Effect: Temporarily coats a weapon with 'Light' attribute. Increases durability by 200%.]
I clutched the jar to my chest.
With this, Hestor won't die. Kael won't lose his father. And I... I won't be alone.
As I turned to leave, the forest went completely silent. Not even the wind dared to move the leaves.
Cr-crack.
A branch snapped fifty yards away. Then came a low, vibrating growl that felt like it was coming from the ground itself.
I looked back. Two glowing purple orbs were staring at me from the darkness of the thicket. It wasn't the main wolf—the 'Alpha' that would hit the village—but a scout. A smaller, yet equally lethal, mutation.
I didn't scream. Screaming was for people who had a protagonist to save them. I was the one who had to save the protagonist later.
I unsheathed the small dagger Hestor gave me. My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped it.
"I built this world," I whispered, my voice a jagged edge of terror and fury. "I know your weaknesses. Your left eye is blind, and your heart is two inches lower than a natural wolf's."
The beast leaped.
I didn't fight like a knight. I threw a handful of dirt at its face and rolled into the freezing creek. The water hit me like a thousand needles, but it masked my scent. I scrambled up the opposite bank, my heart feeling like it was going to explode.
I ran until my shins felt like they were splintering.
I reached the manor gates just as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky the color of a fresh bruise. Hestor was standing there, his face grim.
"I have it," I gasped, collapsing at his feet, drenched and shivering. I held up the jar. "The Sun-Salt."
Hestor grabbed the jar, but his eyes were on the forest. He had heard the distant howl. The scout I'd encountered was calling the pack.
"Inside," Hestor commanded, his voice now a roar of authority. "Mikhail, get inside the house and find Kael. Lock the doors. Do not come out until I tell you."
I crawled toward the porch. Kael was there, his face pale. He had heard the howl too. He grabbed my arm, pulling me into the hallway.
"What's happening?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Mikhail, what's that sound?"
I looked at him—the future Hero of the Empire—and saw only a scared boy. I took a deep breath, trying to stop my teeth from chattering.
"The story is starting, Kael," I said, looking at the heavy oak door. "But this time, the ending is going to be different."
[Alert: The 'Oakhaven Massacre' Event has begun.]
[Time Remaining: 00 Hours, 00 Minutes.]
Outside, the first scream echoed from the village below.
Status Check
* Current Identity: Mikhail (Exhausted/Drenched)
* Location: Valerius Manor (The Siege)
* Progress: Hestor's sword is being reinforced with Sun-Salt.
* Relationship: Kael (Deepening trust/Dependency)