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Plot Armor Agency

"Alright, listen up, you ungrateful peasant readers. Yeah, you, sitting there, thinking you know better than me about my story. Just because I threw in a little—just a little—plot armor, everyone loses their minds. Like, come on, you dumbshit! It's my novel. If I want my characters to survive an apocalypse by tripping over a conveniently placed banana peel, then so be it. Go ahead, call it lazy writing. Call it bullshit. But I know you love it. You can’t get enough of my endless, godlike creativity. And don’t you dare pretend otherwise." That was what I just typed in a fit of rage before pressing enter and sending it out as an announcement. They will rage, I knew. They will be infuriated, obviously. But I was living for that. However, then… this one weird comment pops up, it says, “Wanna change the storyline of billions of novels with your plot armor?” "Great, another joker." But whatever. I’m intrigued. So I click. And, holy hell, my computer screen goes haywire, flashing like a rave in a mental asylum. A shadowy figure appears, all mysterious and ominous, like it's ripped straight out of one of my more “experimental” chapters. And before I can blink, it says, “Welcome to the Plot Armor Agency. Your services are required. Your task: Rewrite reality.” Plot Armor Agency Server : https://discord.gg/bZJ5v6jA8B Also on RoyalRoad.

HandsomeKimDokja · Fantasía
Sin suficientes valoraciones
77 Chs

Yeah, exactly—oh shit,

After some time lying on the ground, catching their breath, the sun had started its slow descent, and the daylight was dimming, casting a soft orange glow through the trees. Damian sighed, looking up at the fading light. "Hey, get up," he said, nudging Kyle. "We need to go. I'm not gonna sleep in these woods."

Kyle groaned, getting to his feet, brushing the dirt and leaves off his ripped shirt. The sleeves were torn, and Damian's hood was caked with dirt after all the running and rolling they'd been through. It was no surprise they both looked like they'd been dragged through hell.

Kyle stretched and glanced around. "Uh... where exactly are we?" he asked, squinting as he tried to get his bearings. They had run so fast, in such a blind panic, that neither of them had any idea which direction they had come from.

Damian, scanning the surroundings with a frown, replied, "Good question. Check the mission map. Maybe it can show us where we are."