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A World Unwritten

Stuck in the worst dream possible – the reality of my own creation. Here I am, not the all-powerful author, but an unsuspecting character, woken up in a beggar's body in the world of my own novel. How? Why? I don't know, but what I do know is that I need to survive. My memories of the story's plot are sketchy at best, but I remember enough to know I've got to stick to the main storyline. Life-or-death decisions, cryptic mysteries, formidable enemies, I wrote them all. Now I must face them firsthand. The irony would be delicious if it weren't so deadly. Am I stuck in my worst nightmare or have I been given a chance to rewrite my destiny? Only time will tell. Until then, I’ve got to survive in this Insane world, a plot to follow, and one hell of a story to write... by living it.

QTV · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
344 Chs

Day 5 Part 5

My lungs burn with each ragged breath I draw, sweat beads rolling off my forehead as the last skeleton crumbles to dust around me. A wave of bone dust stings my eyes, but I barely notice the discomfort as I half-stumble, half-slide down the damp mossy wall, panting heavily.

"Damn...that woman...could've...she..." I mutter to myself between huffs of air. My voice sounds raspy to my own ears, and my body feels heavier than a mountain. "Why the hell...did it take so long...for that damn hut...to be destroyed?"

I glare at the pile of bone dust, as if the skeletons themselves were to blame for this mess. As if they were the ones who kept me running around in circles, dragging around an army of hollow-eyed monsters, waiting for those two to finish their part of the plan.

Slumping against the damp wall, I slide down onto the cold stone floor, the chill seeping through my clothes and into my tired bones. I lean my head back against the mossy wall, letting out a tired sigh. My legs feel like jelly, my body is screaming in exhaustion, and every cell in my body aches from the effort.

Ilka floats down, her tiny body flipping mid-air so her head is hanging upside down in front of me. She has the gall to look unbothered, a smug grin plastered on her face. "Tsk, tsk. How can you be tired from a single jog?" she teases, her tone irritatingly cheery.

I squint at her, too exhausted to even properly glare. "It wasn't a fucking jog, Ilka," I retort weakly, "It was a sprint. With a thousand skeletons. Chasing me."

She simply shrugs, her smirk widening. "Semantics," she says, waving me off dismissively. "You know, for someone who claims to be so somewhat decent, you lack a shit ton of stamina."

I open my mouth to argue but end up closing it, finding myself too tired to deal with her bullshit. Letting out a resigned sigh, I close my eyes, sinking deeper into the cool stone beneath me. 'Just what the hell were Isadora and Biana doing? All they had to do was destroy the hut. That damn Biana, she always finds the easiest way out.'

My mind starts spinning out scenarios, each more ridiculous than the last. 'Maybe Biana was just sitting on her ass while Isadora did all the work. Or maybe they got lost? It was a straight path though, how can they get lost? Or was it a sleepover with the remaining skeletons? No, that's too ridiculous, even for Biana.'

I shake my head, forcing myself to stop the train of thought. The fact that my mind can come up with such ludicrous theories proves just how exhausted I am.

Despite everything, I can't help but chuckle, my laughter echoing through the large room. The sheer absurdity of the situation is starting to get to me, I guess. 'Just what did I do to deserve this?'

I glance at Ilka, who is now floating around me, her laughter joining mine. "You should've seen your face when you were running!" she says between fits of laughter. "You looked like a chicken with its head cut off!"

Despite her constant nagging, Ilka has a point. Learning her footwork technique while being chased by an army of skeletons was the best way to practice. Ugh, I wish we had a peaceful moment, maybe a sunny beach and some cool drinks. But no, I had to practice in a cave, with skeletons and the constant threat of death.

"Alright, alright, stop with your cackling," I tell her, trying to regain my composure. "I did pretty well for my first time, right? I mean, I didn't trip"

She gives me a skeptical look, crossing her arms over her chest. "Hmph! I suppose you were decent, just a tad bit, for a beginner. But don't get too cocky, you've still got a long way to go."

And just like that, the moment of levity is over. Her words remind me of the reality of our situation - I don't have much time before it's irreversible, I got to find that damn secret passage, Ugh, I can't even move my legs.

Shit, I'm really stuck here with this egotistic spirit. Is this some sort of divine punishment? Is it too much to ask for my plans to go my way?

Pain explodes in my joints as I push myself upright, bones cracking and muscles screaming in protest. A low groan forces its way past my gritted teeth, echoing ominously around the Ruin. I stretch, trying to ease the discomfort but every movement just amplifies the pain. Ugh, time to get moving, an hour break was definitely needed.

Aira and the others should be on their way up the mountain by now. Damn, considering the crazy number of wild dogs they're gonna encounter, it's likely that Professor Thaddeus and Professor Ayla switched the Beast they're supposed to deal with. My mind flits to Isadora and Biana, hoping they had enough sense to stick to the damn path. They should be on their way to the second test. 'Thank god, I can finally deal with this shit system task before it all goes to hell.'

Looking around the tunnel, I scowl at the silent surroundings. "Hey, stupid system, can you at least lead the way to the damn passage?"

Almost immediately, a system window pops out of thin air, displaying a sort of map leading the way. I tilt my head, surprised at the lack of smart-ass comments. 'Why isn't the system saying some stupid shit? ' I think. But then again, maybe it's a blessing in disguise. For once, I don't have to deal with that infuriatingly sarcastic AI.

Exhaling slowly, I push the thought aside, turning my attention to the smug-looking spirit floating around me. "Alright, Ilka. We have a bothersome phenomenon to deal with now," I say, stretching my arms as wide as they'll go.

She floats closer, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What? What are you on about? Don't tell me you know something about this Island."

A grin slowly spreads across my face. "Remember, you were the one that called me a prophet."

Her eyes roll so dramatically I worry they might get stuck in the back of her head. "Oh, great! The mighty prophet has spoken," she says, sarcasm dripping from every word. "What, did you have another one of your 'visions'?"

I shake my head, her ego shining brighter than ever. 'God, she's so full of herself.' "Nah, the only vision I have right now is of me kicking your ass if you don't start taking this seriously."

Her eyes flash with amusement. "Oh, I'd love to see you try, prophet. That is, if you can even stand up properly without whimpering in pain. And just so you know, even if I'm only a spirit, I can still beat your ass" she retorts, crossing her arms over her chest.

Her words hit a bit too close to home, but I hide my discomfort behind a scowl. 'At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if she's been reading my mind.'

Shaking my head, I turn away from her, forcing myself to concentrate on the task at hand. 'Alright, V, get your shit together. It's just a little pain. You've dealt with worse.'

Barely managing to catch my breath, I stand in front of the wall. Dammit, that was a good 30-minute walk. This better be the damn right place. I mean, it looks like I described in my novel but one can't be too sure. The rough, worn-out stones arranged in a pattern that's as old as time, or at least as old as my annoyance level right now.

A sharp sting snaps me out of my thoughts. Ilka, laying lazily in my hair, just kicked my forehead. "Why did you stop, you dunce?" she questions, her voice ringing in my ears.

"We're here~," I announce with a grin, my words echoing around the enclosed space.

There's a beat of silence before she huffs out, "This? This is it? You got me excited for a bloody wall?"

Sighing, I let my hand wander across the wall, searching for the concealed stone trigger. I can't help but think, if Mason were here, I wouldn't be in this shitshow. But for some reason, the bastard was conveniently removed.

My fingers finally find what they're searching for, a stone sticking out just a tad more than the rest. As I press down, the wall shifts and reveals a stone knife. I take hold of it, its cold surface sending a slight shiver up my spine.

Ilka floats down to my level, eyeing the knife with confusion. "Eeeh? Just what the hell is this? A souvenir?"

The corners of my mouth tug upward, unable to hold back a grin. "Oh, this? This is the key."

She gives me a skeptical look. "To what? Stabbing yourself in the foot? Because that's about all you're good for."

I roll my eyes at her. The ego on this one, it's as if she's trying to outdo herself every minute. "No, you twit. Watch and learn."

As I say this, I focus my mana into the knife. It quivers in response, the blunt stone reshaping itself into a sharper blade. Even in this dark tunnel, the blade gleams ominously. "Simple," I say, and before Ilka can question me again, I plunge the knife into the ground.

Her gasp is lost in the deafening sound of the ground shaking beneath us. Before we know it, the ground opens up and I'm free-falling. I can hear Ilka's panicked screams fade as I plummet down, down, down, finally crashing into a pool of water.

Water fills my lungs, but I quickly push myself up, spluttering and coughing. I was expecting this fall, of course, I wrote it, after all. But experiencing it firsthand is a whole different ball game.

Once I manage to get out of the water, I let out a sigh of relief. I've finally found a place where those nosy professors won't be watching me. Bet they're at the yacht right now scratching their heads, wondering where I've disappeared off to.

Well, too bad. This ain't a game of hide and seek, after all. I've got my own shit to deal with. Time to carry out my plan, and get the hell out of this godforsaken place.

As if reading my thoughts, Ilka floats around me, looking a bit shaken. "You have the worst ideas, V."

"Yep," I reply with a chuckle, water dripping from my hair onto my clothes. "And you're stuck with me, Ilka."

"Oh, joy, this better be more than just a skeleton fight," she mutters.

"Finally, no more eyes on me."

I reach into the hidden pocket within my clothes, a grin spreading across my face as my fingers close around the cool metal. "Baby, it's showtime," I whisper, pulling out my only friend. I start spinning it on my finger, the familiar weight soothing my frazzled nerves. Finally, at the academy I was only able to hold you, Now I can finally use you.

Ilka, sitting perched on my shoulder, looks at the gun with interest. "Oh! It's the bang! bang! thing you have. Will you finally use it?"

"It's called a gun, Ilka," I correct, rolling my eyes at her childish terminology. "And yes, I'm finally going to use it."

She hums in response, seeming satisfied with my answer.

With my 'bang! bang! thing' in hand, I start to navigate my way around this place. This godforsaken sandbox for those bastards, the ones who like playing creative a bit too much. They set up an array filled with a highly unstable condensed magic stone around here. This stone has a way of screwing with the environment and the creatures, making everything mutate like a B-grade horror movie. They set it up on this Island with the intent of testing it on us, they didn't expect us to take the test too early on. If the stone is left unattended for to long, disgusting monsters will begin to form.

'Great, just what I needed. a free shooting ground~' I think, pushing a mutant vine out of my way. I mean, who would let this opportunity go to waste?

"Look at you, prophet, all focused and serious," Ilka teases, pulling at my hair. "Are you scared?"

"Do you want me to be scared?" I retort, swatting her hand away. "Will that massage your ego?"

She just huffs, her arms crossing over her chest. "You wish! Your fear wouldn't make me feel better about myself. I already know I'm better than you."

I roll my eyes, but a smirk is playing on my lips. Her ego really is something else. "Keep telling yourself that, Miss High and Mighty."

Fun Fact: Not all magic stones are alike, the strength of a magic stone depends on its purity.

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