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Master Of My Universe: The Author Who Became the Hero's System

You can have a chat with me on discord. https://discord.gg/MgVng8Fh Mark Eisner is the greatest example of a failure. Unable to get his dream job, he resorts to writing a story, a story close to his heart, a story in which he expressed himself to the fullest. It was the delusional universe he created for himself. Unable to grasp the attention of readers, his book was deemed a failure as well. Heartbroken after suffering his crushing fate, Mark commits suicide, uttering his last words; proclaiming the end of his story. But was this the end of his story? Hell Nah! He is far from being dead. He finds himself, astonishingly, still possessing his consciousness, even though his existence is formless. What he then sees is unbelievable. The hero he created, the hero "he only" loved, the hero that reflected himself... His own protagonist. Reincarnated as the system of the hero of his own novel, Mark undergoes an epic journey with his unanticipated creation, helping him throughout, knowing all about his predicaments. There are a few rules to him - 1. RELAY ONLY REQUIRED MESSAGE TO THE PLAYER 2. DROP DESIGNATED REWARDS 3. EXPEL THE PLAYER IF PLAUSIBILITY REACHES LIMITS But.... Is that all? Does he really thinks events will take place just as he layed them? . . . Is he really that Omniscient ? Is he the only one.... . . .

Adwit_ojha · Fantasie
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54 Chs

Conclusion of The First Quest: Showdown at Sylph Hall {Part - 4}

The Preparator slowly made his way in the center of the hall, directly facing Remirg into the face, his bright glowing red eyes exhibiting a piercing gaze.

In a mystically magnified voice, the stout shadow figure opened its mouth to say,

"I see..... you.... are the Player."

The Simulator had already popped him his notification that Remirg had been expecting.

[YOU HAVE ENCOUNTERED THE PREPERATOR! THE PLAYER CAN NOW COMMENCE WITH THE SECOND TASK!]

In a highly dignified voice, Remirg said, looking down upon the figure which stood in front of him.

"So, You can speak, huh? I see.... Your kind do possess the power of speech. Why hadn't your predecessors uttered a single word", he asked The Preparator.

He was replied back in the same mystically magnified voice,

"Foolish Mortal, what you had experienced till now was just brute power. You still don't possess the wits to demean a great being such as me."

Listening to the Preparator's claims, a tight chain inside Remirg's heart loosened.

His words clearly were reflecting The Preparator's personality.

Being on the safe hand, Remirg had already checked him with Prana presence, being certain that he possessed very low control over his prana flow.

The shadow being was continuously emanating prana at a fast rate.

Moreover, his words reflected that his wisdom. But Remirg was someone who was far superior to him in the matter of presence of brains. Remirg could feel it.

Most of his attention was on the heavy locket which was tied around the little figure's neck.

"So that is the Prana Locket. I somehow need to defeat this half-assed guy and get that thing. I have to fuse that locket with the prana core, or that strange cube, which lied on the dais.

But the real problem is, how exactly am I supposed to defeat this guy.

The Simulator clearly stated that I need to defeat The Preparator in any way possible.....Any way possible....!

Does it mean it depends upon this guy to determine how we're supposed to battle?! That would be a real problem. I would be put in a very high disadvantage!"

The realization of the simple fact was clearly showing upon his face. His face had contracted into a great, prominent frown, exhibiting the epitome of anxiety.

For now, he had to abide by what the Preparator had to say. Somehow, he had to find out a way in this unfair situation to outsmart him.

This was not a battle of force, but a battle of wits. The one who outsmarts the other first wins. The only difference is that The Preparator started this battle with weapons, whereas Remirg was left helpless, only with his body.

Nevertheless, he replied to the Preparator's declaration, posing the next question. The tone this time was reflecting a different emotion. An emotion of respect.

" O great being, l admire the power you possess. Though your predecessors didn't possess any consciousness, I could feel great wisdom from you!

How can I comprehend this? How am I supposed to defeat you?"

The Preparator, pleased at this untimely, but respective disposition, he replied,

"I see.... You have finally understood the depth of the grave situation you are in.... But nevertheless, I would disclose to you what kind of combat we are supposed to proceed with."

Pointing towards his own self, he said.

"I am to ask you 3 distinct questions. If you're able to answer all of those, I shall voluntarily pass on the Prana Locket to you.

That must mean you possess the courage and wisdom to wield the weight of such a burden.

But, if you're unable to answer.... Mark my words.... A very horrible and gruesome death awaits you. A death you would never have anticipated in your entire life."

Upon hearing his words, a deep shudder ran through the whole of Remirg's body.

But still, he had to stand tall and the face the situation. That is the only thing that would really keep him alive.

It had now become the matter of his worthiness. If he had to prove it, he will do it. Resorting to any extent possible.

Taking a deep breath, Remirg finally replied,

"I shall acquiesce to your challenge, o noble one! I shall prove my worth to you! I am ready to accept death as my fate upon failure. For that, maybe fate had stalled for me. But while I am alive, I shall fight for what I need and strive for it till death!" 

Mark, who was watching the whole of this incident felt a heart whelming run down his body.

This was one of the most icon dialogues he had planned for Remirg. This one dialogue signified his victory over his fear of death. The one thing which had been keeping him back the whole time. The one, which restrained his real potential. 

Remirg, who was now reflecting a blazing resolve in his eyes, buckled himself up, for the upcoming battle of wits. The battle which was going test whether he was worth the power he is supposed to wield or not.

The Preparator, who received the answer he was expecting, replied,

"Very well, Mortal, I praise your fearlessness. But I'll see if you really are worthy or not.

So, am I to believe that you are completely ready to face the upcoming situation? Am I to resort to any measures to punish you upon failure?"

With a determined voice, Remirg replied with a thundering "Yes!"

Hearing his reply, a slight smirk appeared on the edge of his the Preparator's mouth. Though it was invisible to Remirg because of the deep blackness of his figure.

"Very good. So let's begin the exchange of questions. 

I shall provide you with the first question. You can take as much time as you want to answer it. Unless you want to give him, you have all your time.

If you think you can escape death by not answering at all, then you'll starve to death, right here, in the underworld."

Remirg quietly nodded his head in agreement.

"So, the first question is...."