The dimension shattered around him. Ron's feet sank into a floor made of endless, fluttering pages, stretched to infinity. Words twisted and rewrote themselves beneath him, forming images that shifted faster than he could comprehend.
"Where… am I?" he whispered, his voice swallowed by the strange echoes of the place.
A voice floated behind him—soft, melodic, yet impossibly deep.
"You are standing on the Canvas… the space where the Narrative itself is written."
A glowing message appeared before his eyes:
[Don't turn—or you'll pay.]
Ron froze. His heart raced. The Fourth Wall… is threatening me?
"Narrative? What do you mean? The narrative of a story?" he stammered.
The voice shifted, playful and small like a little girl's. "Yes… this is the space between lines…"
Then it deepened into a calm adult woman's tone, resonant and commanding: "Where stories are born, shaped, and… sometimes destroyed. Every choice, every thought, every breath of yours… is written here."
Pages swirled around him, forming towers that stretched beyond the horizon. Letters broke free from the sheets, dancing like sparks, whispering fragments of forgotten events. A single page drifted toward him.
On it, Hero Town gleamed with light and laughter. Families walked hand in hand. Mr. Gonzalez and Ron sat in a restaurant, laughing like brothers. The scene shimmered, almost alive.
"Ron… Ron…"
The voice softened, but it carried weight, emotion, and warning. "Every moment you think is random… every path you follow… is written. And some stories… are not yours to change."
Ron's mind spun. The pages below his feet quivered and twisted, forming reflections of countless possible realities—some horrifying, some beautiful, all fleeting. Shadows of his past and future flickered like lightning across the sheets.
He wanted to turn, to find the source of the voice—but another message appeared:
[Turn, and everything you know will be rewritten.]
He froze. This is the first time the Fourth Wall is speaking to me… and threatened me.
"Why…?" Ron whispered. "Why me? Why now?"
A figure began to form in the swirling pages—first a silhouette, then a little girl, then a woman. Her eyes glimmered with infinite knowledge, and her gaze pierced his very soul.
"This is where stories and reality collide," she said, her voice overlapping itself in multiple tones. "What you see, what you feel… is the narrative choosing to show you its secrets. But beware, Wielder of the Fourth Wall… curiosity has its price."
A paper floated closer. On it, he saw images of Hero Town bathed in sunlight, laughter echoing through the streets. People walked hand in hand. He saw Dream, smiling in ways that felt impossibly real. Mr. Gonzalez and Ron sat side by side, talking like brothers.
Ron reached out—but the page flickered violently, almost as if alive. Words and scenes twisted, then stabilized.
"You have a choice," the voice whispered, layered with emotion, "to step forward… or be consumed by the story itself. Only you can decide… but know this: once you act, there is no undoing what has been written."
Time warped. Pages spun like whirlwinds. Words screamed and merged into visions of battles, losses, betrayals, love, and hope. Reality and story blended into one, dizzying, overwhelming truth.
Ron swallowed hard, heart pounding. He realized… this was not just a place. This was the essence of every story ever told, every world ever imagined. And he… he was standing in the center of it, holding the power to change everything.
He took a step forward—and the Canvas shuddered. The voice faded, leaving only a whisper:
"Wielder… the story begins… now."
The Canvas shuddered beneath Ron's feet as he took a hesitant step forward. Pages spiraled into a vortex around him, twisting and stretching reality itself. Letters screamed, forming fleeting visions of battles, heartbreak, and moments he had yet to live. The air smelled of ink and ozone, and every heartbeat echoed like a drum across a thousand worlds. Suddenly, Ron see a portal above his head.
The voice says, "This is the place where a story enter Fictional Plane. It is written here and send through the portal above."
Ron don't know what to do or say, looks here and there and tries to find the exit.
"Wielder… the story begins… now," the voice whispered, fading like mist.
A sudden flash of light engulfed him, brighter than any sun he had seen. The pages tore themselves apart, spinning into an endless spiral, pulling him in. His senses blurred. He felt himself stretching across time, across realities, as if he were both everywhere and nowhere at once.
And then—he gasped, coughing as the world snapped into focus. He lay in a hospital bed, cold sheets against his skin. The night was dark outside, but the dim glow of machines hummed steadily. Carter, Locki, Future Lia, Bruce, and DA were all gathered by his bedside.