"Hero, this way."
One of the attendants guided me to the waiting room. We stopped before a white door with a list of names beside it.
I quickly skimmed through before entering:
1. Valdron – Hero: Ragnar
2. Eltexa – Hero: Nova
3. Arcanthia – Hero: Selina
4. Zerphine – Hero: Isaac
5. Mordiath – Hero: Kyle
6. Astravine – Hero: Victor
7. Termagos – Hero: Alice
8. Altherion – Hero: The Hero
"Thank you, I'll go in alone from here."
"As you wish, Hero."
The moment I pushed open the door, cautious eyes turned toward me. The atmosphere was heavy. My gaze darted around, searching for someone—
"Brother! You're finally here!"
I was greeted by the warm smile of Kyle, the one I considered a brother. He rose and approached me with open arms.
I returned the hug immediately, ignoring the curious stares around us. After a brief moment, we each took our seats—fortunately, right next to one another.
"The Hero, really? Didn't you have a temporary name?" Nova cut in.
"You can't change the name the Great Writer gave you."
"The Great Writer didn't give me a name."
Nova's mind swirled with questions, her anger flaring. "How could he not give you a name? Are you lying to us now?"
Kyle intervened. "My bro—uh, I mean the Hero—simply didn't want a temporary name. The Great Writer respected that cho—"
I cut him off, taking the lead. "And why would I lie? Humans lie out of fear, to protect themselves. What fear would you inspire in me that would make me lie?"
Nova didn't answer—or rather, she couldn't. Silence lingered until Victor spoke:
"So you gave up the luxury of having a name?"
…The greatest privilege of End Writers was to own a name. It granted us the illusion of life, of existence.
"I don't want a temporary illusion of being alive… I want it as something permanent."
From across the room, Isaac scoffed. "Do you even realize what you're saying? There's only one way for an End Writer to truly have a name."
Ragnar's voice followed from beside me "Forget it. This boy is more loyal to the Great Writer than all of us combined."
I fixed my eyes in his direction. "How are you, Ragnar?"
"Tense."
"Because of the mission?"
"Yes… I don't know how we're supposed to finish what ten thousand generations before us couldn't."
Alice's voice chimed in. "Then simply walk another path."
Isaac frowned. "What do you mean by that, Alice?"
"If the methods of our predecessors failed, then we must change our methods."
I understood immediately what she meant by "changing methods." Kyle grew furious.
"Do whatever you want, but we won't abandon our ways just because of fear. Isn't that right, brother?"
"Of course."
I shifted my gaze toward Selina. "What's with her?"
Her expression was cold, her face pale, her body marked with burns and bruises.
Victor answered. "We don't know. She's been like this since we met her. Forget it—it's good for us. Less competition, seven instead of eight."
"What nonsense are you spouting? She's one of us, flesh and blood."
Suddenly, Selina bolted out of the room. A voice pierced directly into my head:
— Hero, follow her.
— Who are you?
— Follow her, and she'll lead you to me.
I stood up immediately and gave chase. Kyle followed.
"Where are we going?"
"No idea."
We didn't run far before Selina appeared ahead, with a man in priestly robes beside her—clearly her guide.
"My lord End Writer, you came," he said, his eyes shifting to Kyle.
"Why did you call me? What's wrong with Selina?"
"I don't have much time, so I'll be brief. When Selina was summoned, her body was used for experimentation. They're still controlling her with a device."
The priest gasped for breath. "I don't know the details, only that they implanted chips in her head."
I knelt before Selina, who struggled to regain herself. "May I read your past, Selina?"
Past Reading—my ability. It allows me to live through the memories of my target, from a point I choose to another. The downside: I feel everything—pain, joy, sorrow—just as they did.
Placing my hand on her head, I activated it.
In the moment of her summoning, Selina was transported—no, taken—to a laboratory. Dozens of human and non-human bodies floated in glass chambers filled with strange liquid.
I lived every experiment through her: the shocks, the surgeries, the despair…
When it ended, I had all I needed—her powers, the one responsible for the experiments, the chips in her head, and above all, the weapon they were building.
I placed my hand on her head again, releasing a low electrical current—not enough to harm her, but enough to fry the chips.
"Thank you… I don't know what to say," Selina whispered, her body trembling. "…It's rare to see kind End Writers anymore."
Kyle pressed her shoulder to keep her seated. "Don't move too much, or you'll hurt yourself."
The priest of Arcanthia lowered his head. "…Forgive me, Lady Selina. I failed in my duty as your guide."
"Don't worry, Russell. There was nothing you could have done. Thank you for caring."
I turned my eyes toward the corridor. "Will Aldric Failehart, head of research, be coming?"
Russell's expression darkened. "…Yes."
Kyle summoned his chains, while I had only my bare hands.
At the end of the hall, three men emerged—two cloaked figures and between them, a middle-aged man with a long black mustache: Aldric Failehart.
"…Russell. What have you done?" Aldric growled.
"I'm sorry, sir. But I did what had to be done."
Aldric seethed. "If we had controlled her, she could have won the ceremony. But you ruined the kingdom's plan—the same kingdom that took you in when you were nothing but a lost child!"
Russell smirked. "…Unfortunately, my loyalty lies elsewhere."
Aldric charged, slamming Russell back with crushing force, separating us from them.
Kyle and I turned to the cloaked men.
The bald one lunged at Kyle. I entered Lightning Form, my body glowing as I seized his neck. His body was hard—unbreakable.
The other swung a dagger for my back, but Kyle's chains intercepted.
I smashed my fist into the bald one's face as Kyle's chains ripped into the other's leg.
Both staggered back, but I pressed forward, thrusting my hand through the bald man's chest. He retaliated with a brutal headbutt that knocked me down.
Wind blades swirled around the second man, holding him in place. I tightened my grip on the bald one, and in that instant, Kyle's chains speared his eyes, ending him.
The wind prison dropped. The second man turned his body to steel, slipping through Kyle's chains and leaping at him.
A bolt of lightning shot from me, forcing him back to flesh.
We unleashed a barrage together, Kyle finishing with a chain through his chest.
Breathless, I looked at him. "That was tough… and he was just a guard?"
When we turned back, Russell had impaled Aldric with crimson spears of blood—but Aldric had torn Russell open.
Moments later, Russell's wound closed, leaving only torn clothing. "Russell… you'll regret this."
"I'll die anyway. Why should I fear your threats?"
Before Aldric could reply, Selina's blade severed his head.
Russell gave us a grateful nod. "The three of you should return to the waiting room. Arcanthian soldiers will arrive soon."
Selina frowned. "What about you? They'll know what you did."
"It doesn't matter. They can't touch me in front of the kings."
Kyle snorted. "Is this really the time to worry about relationships? You're on the same side, he has no choice but to help you."
We left Russell behind, returning to the white door. Inside, the others were as we had left them.
Kyle asked, "Was that the sixth time?"
"…The sixth what?"
"The sixth time you used Past Reading."
"Oh. Yes, it was the sixth."
Every End Writer has a unique ability, mental or physical. Because of its cost, I rarely used mine.
We sat down again. Ragnar eyed us. "Where were you?"
Kyle smirked. "Earning some favors."
Ragnar's gaze shifted to Selina, understanding the situation. "I hope you didn't cause trouble."
I leaned back. "That's all we got out of the rescue."
Selina turned to me. "Wait—you're the End Writer with the highest authority after the Great Writer, aren't you?"
Alice gasped. "Wait—you're him?!"
"Yes… that's me."
Victor blinked. "But you're so young. You're supposed to be, what, three hundred? I'm five hundred years older than you."
"…I've long surpassed the point where age or time affects me."
"Then how did you gain such power in the first place?"
I glanced at Kyle and Ragnar, who tried to stifle their laughter. "Child's play."
Nova's eyes narrowed. "…Is it true the Great Writer told you the secret of world destruction?"
---
I recalled a memory—my very first year, before I became an End Writer.
"Sir Great Writer," I had said, a child among other future End Writers.
[Yes, what is it?] He smiled.
"Why do End Writers destroy worlds?" I asked eagerly.
[Oh? Do you truly want the answer?]
I nodded fervently.
[Very well. Follow me.]
He took me aside, out of earshot of the others.
[So, you want to know why? Listen closely.] He knelt, meeting my eyes.
[The reason is ■■■■■■■■■■.]
But I couldn't hear it. The world itself rejected his words. My eyes and nose bled. I collapsed unconscious.
---
"I don't remember anything after that."
"…I see."
"Have any of you met someone with black hair, frail body… named Ryan?"
I didn't know why I brought him up now, but it would be trouble if he met an End Writer other than me.
Ragnar tilted his head. "You mean that curious kid?"
"You've seen him?"
Victor added, "I did too. He asked a lot about the world I came from."
"Didn't you feel something strange about him?"
"Strange how?" Ragnar asked.
"Like… the aura of an End Writer."
Victor burst into laughter. "An End Writer's aura? Don't be ridiculous."
Kyle, deep in thought, stared at the ceiling. "…Could he be one of them?"
"I doubt it. From what I know, he can only read thoughts—or something like it."
Ragnar nodded. "So, like you."
"Almost," I admitted. "He probably reads a person's thoughts when they answer his questions."
Victor scoffed. "You're overthinking. He's just a normal person."
Ragnar agreed. "Yeah, I think so too."
Fools. I expected that. Still, not everyone here was blind—I saw it in the eyes of Kyle, Isaac, Selina, even Nova.
Nova sneered. "No wonder you're all idiots—you're addicted to C-Class worlds."
"And what's wrong with C-Class worlds?" Ragnar shot back.
I smirked, listing their flaws. "For one, their people are weak and stupid. You stroll in with overwhelming power, crush enemies in a strike or two, and the rest just gape in awe. They're nothing but props for your ego."
Victor muttered, "And what, you've never gone to a C-Class?"
Nova answered. "Of course we did—in the beginning. For the first five years."
Ragnar pointed at me. "He entered a B-Class as his very first."
Selina's eyes widened. "That was you? I'd heard the story but didn't believe it."
I sighed. "Thanks to him… yes. And no, I've never gone to a C-Class. Not even for a vacation."
Worlds are usually ranked by class:
C-Class: The easiest. The summoned End Writer is the strongest, smartest, while locals are weak and foolish. Most End Writers use them as holidays.
B-Class: Mid-level. Populations split between smart and foolish. End Writers are equal to or slightly stronger than the locals. My first world, Earth, was one of these—I still remember it.
A-Class: Hells on earth, reserved for elite End Writers.
AA-Class: Worlds fused together. It often takes generations to clear them.
But this world… was the fusion of over one hundred worlds. On top of that, certain individuals had made it their base. No wonder ten thousand generations failed. Its classification: AAA-Class.
Suddenly, a voice called out:
"Heroes!"
The guide entered. "The ceremony is about to begin. Prepare yourselves!"
We rose and headed for the grand arena. The crowd roared. The eight kings watched from their thrones.
"Heroes, step forward—Ragnar, Nova, Selina, and Isaac—for the draw."
Four slips were placed in a glass sphere. Ragnar drew first.
"Ragnar, Hero of Valdron, will face… The Hero, Hero of Altherion."
So my first battle would be against an old friend.
Nova drew next.
"Nova, Hero of Eltexa, will face Kyle, Hero of Mordiath."
"Selina, Hero of Arcanthia, will face Victor, Hero of Astravine."
"Isaac, Hero of Zerphine, will face Alice, Hero of Termagos."
Kyle turned to me. "So, brother, you'll be up against Nova."
"…"
"…Kyle?" I called when he didn't respond.
He wiped his brow with a shaky smile. "Ah, what is it, brother?"
"Are you alright? You seem nervous."
"Don't worry… I'm fine."
He wasn't fine. I knew my brother. Something was wrong.