[Trash.]
[My dog can write better than this. Just quit.]
[The MC is a brainless simp. How is this even published?]
James stared at the glowing screen, his vision blurring with a mixture of exhaustion and cold, biting rage.
"Close to a hundred novels," James hissed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the desk. "A hundred stories... and all of them are 'trash'?"
He had poured his soul into these worlds. He had lived a thousand lives through his keyboard, only to be met with a wall of toxicity.
He stood up, his heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped animal. Suddenly, a white-hot spike of pain exploded in his chest.
"What... the..."
His hand clawed at his shirt, reaching for a door handle that felt miles away. His knees buckled. The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was the flicker of a new notification:
[User 'NoobSlayer69' has left a 1-star review: 'Die already.']
Heh. Wish granted, James thought. Then, his world went black.
"Welcome to the afterlife, human."
James opened his eyes to a world of endless white and blinding blue clouds. Sitting opposite him was a man who looked less like a monster and more like a blonde-haired angel.
"I am a Grim Reaper," the man said, his voice echoing with absolute authority.
"Afterlife?" James croaked. "So I really died... from a hate comment?"
"A surge in blood pressure leading to a massive cardiac arrest," the Reaper corrected. "And unfortunately, your stories brought so much despair to your readers that your karma is... well, it's a one-way ticket to Hell."
James felt a hollow pit in his stomach. "So that's it? Eternal damnation because I wrote a bad ending?"
"Unless you make a deal with me," the Reaper leaned in, a cold light in his eyes.
"You will enter a novel you wrote. You must stay there until the story is finished—however long that takes. But there is one rule: you must not die. If you die before the final page, your soul belongs to me forever."
James didn't hesitate. "I'll do it."
"Good. Which world? A romance? A slice-of-life?"
"
"A bold choice," the Reaper smirked. "Good luck, Author."
Clap!
"Huh..."
The smell of ozone and expensive incense hit James first.
He wasn't in his cramped apartment anymore. He was standing in a room that looked like it had been crafted by legends—gold-trimmed marble, obsidian pillars, and a throne that radiated pure pressure.
He caught his reflection in a polished shield on the wall and froze.
White hair. Blood-red eyes. And two jet-black horns curving from his temples.
"Wait... this isn't right," James whispered.
Ding!
A crimson status window flickered into existence, burning into his retinas.
--------------------[Status]---------------------
Name: Malverkor Junior
Age: 16
Race: Archdemon
Rank: F (Lowest Grade)
[Stats]
• Strength: F
• Speed:F+
• CharismanF
• Vitality: E+
• Mana: 184 / 184
[Attribute]: None
[Bloodline Ability]: [Demon Domain - Locked]
[Assessment]: A pathetic disappointment. You are the weakest 'Demon King' candidate in history.F
---------------------------------------------------
"Malverkor Junior?" James's blood ran cold. "I never wrote a son for the Demon King. There was only Malverkor... the final boss who dies in the prologue!"
If he was the son of the Demon King, and this was the prologue...
BOOM!
A massive explosion rocked the castle. The ceiling groaned as cracks spider-webbed through the ancient stone.
[Warning! World Event Detected!]
[Prologue: The Fall of the Demon Realm]
Description: The Hero has breached the inner sanctum. The Demon King is currently being slain. The castle will collapse in 10 minutes.
[Mission: Escape the Slaughter]
• Objective: Reach the teleportation gate before the Hero finds you.
• Reward: 5,000 Glory Points
• Failure: Death
"Are you kidding me!?" James screamed as a severed demon head rolled past his boots.
He didn't have a legendary sword. He didn't have his 'Universal Draw.' He was a Rank-F weakling in the middle of a Level 99 battlefield.
"I just got here!" James shouted, turning and sprinting toward the hallway. "I am NOT dying to my own Hero!"
Behind him, the roar of holy light signaled the death of his 'father.' The story had begun, and the Author was the first one on the hit list.