1 Introductions

Ah. You've finally arrived. Took you long enough.

Well, I suppose congratulations are in order, but first! Introductions are necessary.

I am known by many names. The Lord of the Unknown, The Master of the Impossible, The Rizz God The Primordial God of Chaos, The Wandering King.

But you, not so fine reader, may call me Reece.

Now, back to the congratulations... Why was I congratulating you again? Never mind it doesn't matter, I can't imagine you idiots ever doing something worth congratulating.

Yeah, I said it. What are you gonna do? Punch your phone?

Anyway, moving on. I have brought you here so that I may spin you a wondrous tale, a tale of sword and sorcery, of spaceships and laser swords wielded by men with asthma, of love and despair, of gods and monsters. But most of all; a tale of me.

To do this, I have forcefully acquired some not-so-willing help from your world (yes, my power extends into your world as well). Now behold the author!

The author would like to raise several complaints about your treatment of him.

"I locked you in a cage for a few days, get over it. Now do your thing and weave me a story. You shall be the writer and I the protagonist. Together we shall create a story the likes of which these morons and their shit sleep schedules have never seen the likes of!"

The man who said this was young, barely older than sixteen with flaming red hair and heterochromia, his right eye a deep blue and his left eye a bright green. He was short, barely above five-foot with a build that would've been skinny if he was any taller. He wore a simple pair of navy jeans and a gray t-shirt with white trainers and bright red fingerless gloves.

He was floating in some sort of void, nothingness surrounding him from every side, an ocean of darkness, the only light coming a green glows tick Reece held in his left hand.

The author finds your treatment of the readers counterproductive. We're trying to get more readers, not scare them off.

"Unfortunately for you, author, I don't give two fucks," the boy spoke quickly, with a clear smile on his face, "now a few ground rules before we head off:

Number one: you live in a simulation. Don't worry I fact-checked it, it's not a conspiracy.

Number two: pineapple does NOT belong on pizza.

Number three: 9/11 was an inside job.

Now without further ado, let's go!"

A thick fog appeared out of the void, engulfing Reece's body before dissipating revealing no one there, the void now complete in its darkness.

...

After traveling through the fog for a while, Reece found himself face to face with a sphere of giant interlocking metal chains.

It was massive, the size of Jupiter, and the chains were constantly moving, writhing around the ball in a hypnotic dance. Yet there was nothing chaotic about it. The chains moved in perfect synchronization twisting and turning against each other fitting in and out of place like some unfathomable dance of cosmic proportions.

The sphere resided in some unknown part of space orbiting a star alongside some other planets.

"Fancy meeting you here brother," Reece addressed the sphere with a grin.

The chains moved just a little bit faster as Reece spoke though it gave no other response, the metal worms continuing their hypnotic dance.

It remained that way until something unusual but entirely conceivable, rational, and sensible happened. If all the circumstances were considered it made complete sense that these events would happen.

One of the chains peeled off from the ball, stretching out for hundreds of miles and reaching into the depths of space. It lashed towards Reece at an immense speed, wrapping around his waste.

The chain turned slightly transparent before pulling through Reece's body. His physical body was left unharmed however the chains took something.

"What in the unholy fu-"

Before Reece could finish speaking the fog consumed him once again...

...

"ck!"

"Author you bastard! You did this didn't you? My brother would never normally attack me like that."

The author believes it to be a reasonable course of events.

"I couldn't give less of a shit! You did this didn't you?"

The author would like you to refrain from making 9/11 jokes in the future. It could get him in trouble.

"But family guy did it! And Southpark have done way worse."

The author did not ask for your opinion.

"Oh, go fuck yourself. What did my brother do to me anyway?"

The author will explain next chapter as he can't be bothered right now.

"What? You ca-"

The author would also like to inform the readers who are reading this before the second chapter is released that he has not bothered to update the synopsis from a previous, although similar, idea he had for this novel.