The sky was gloomy as if made of ash.
Mist hung thickly between the trees, shrouding the wet, silent ground.
In the middle of the wilderness, a teenager stood alone.
His body was bloody, his clothes tattered, but his eyes... sharp and full of hatred.
Verchiel.
The writer, now trapped in a fictional world of his own creation.
And before him stood a monster:
A Black-Bone Direwolf, Level 18.
Its muzzle was disgusting, covered in dried blood. Black bones protruded from its back and legs, like sharp spikes ready to tear its prey.
> "I created you, you bastard… And I will also kill you."
Verchiel gripped the makeshift weapon at hand—a sharpened piece of wood. His hands trembled, not from fear, but because his level 1 body was not yet accustomed to the pain and pressure.
[Current Status]
Level: 1
HP: 76 / 100
STR: 5
AGI: 6
INT: 8
VIT: 6
MP: 40
Active Skill:
[Awareness F] — Increases alertness within a 10-meter radius.
—
The direwolf pounced. Its movements were swift, wild, like a feathered bullet.
Verchiel didn't dodge gracefully. He rolled to the ground, dragged, and then stood in a defensive position. The monster's claws briefly sliced his shoulder—fresh blood flowed, burning his skin.
But he chuckled.
"Funny... I used to type all this while sipping coffee. Now? I have to experience it myself."
The monster growled, preparing to attack again. Verchiel stared at its path.
"Your pattern is still as stupid as in the first draft."
He jumped to the side, dodging with precision. As the monster's snout lunged forward, Verchiel stabbed a sharp stick into its left eye.
SPLAK!
The monster roared. Anger shook the air.
Verchiel took advantage of the chaos. He climbed onto the direwolf's back, grabbed the protruding bone, and slammed the rock into the monster's nape—repeatedly—until the bone cracked, and black blood spurted like lava from hell.
SRRRAAK!!
The monster collapsed.
Silence followed.
---
[Black-Bone Direwolf – Defeated!]
[EXP +360 (3x System Bonus)]
[Level Up: 1 → 4]
---
Verchiel fell to his knees. His chest heaved. His breathing was heavy, but his eyes remained cold.
"...Two strikes and a stab to the eye. Done."
—
Status Updated:
Level: 4
STR: 5 → 7
AGI: 6 → 9
VIT: 6 → 9
INT: 8 → 10
MP: 40 → 55
HP Partially Recovered
—
[Skill - Awareness] has increased!
[Awareness F] → [Awareness D]
> Radius increased, enemy detection more accurate.
He stared blankly at the system window. Although his level had risen, he hadn't gained any new skills. He already knew why.
> "The basic system: 1 new skill every 10 levels. The rest are upgraded through experience and battle. And I... don't mind."
His skills rose to D rank after one battle.
"Good. So this system still makes sense. I can use this."
Verchiel walked over to the monster carcass. From the creature's body, he pulled out one of the longest protruding spines. Sharp. Sturdy. Bloody.
He grinned.
"A temporary scythe."
—
Several hours passed.
Verchiel bandaged his wound with torn rags. He ate what little edible monster meat he could, using a small, barely visible flame.
The sky was beginning to darken. The wind was biting. But his mind remained sharp.
> "If the Direwolf appears this soon, it means the system is speeding up its script. Maybe because my death disrupted the flow of the main story."
He unlocked [Skill: Writer's Instinct], a strange systematic skill that was given to him from the start
Writer's Instinct – E]
> Kemampuan untuk "merasakan" struktur naratif dunia. Bisa membaca pola musuh, anomali, dan titik-titik penting cerita.
Berkembang seiring dengan pengalaman dan kejutan naratif.
—
Saat skill itu aktif, dunia berubah.
Dalam pikirannya muncul titik cahaya merah di utara—terang, penuh tekanan. Lokasi penuh konflik naratif.
Verchiel bergumam:
"...Itu Akademi Asgard. Tempat MC utama seharusnya muncul."
Ia berdiri, sabit tulangnya disampirkan di punggung.
"Tempat karakter yang dulu gue sayangi."
Tatapannya naik ke langit, menembus kabut.
"Sekarang, mereka semua cuma pion. Monarch, karakter heroik, atau penjahat... semua akan gue paksa tunduk."