A magical mist enveloped the spiral staircase, leading to a lightless chamber. The stone walls were cold and mossy, covered in ancient symbols Verchiel didn't recognize, even in the manuscript version he'd written.
He walked behind Aetheria, who carried a lantern containing a dim blue magic ball. Their footsteps echoed in the long hallway, muffled by the damp air.
"This place... doesn't even exist in my worldbuilding," Verchiel muttered.
"That's because it's not part of the world you created," Aetheria replied without looking up. "It appeared after the system became conscious. After the 'world' wrote itself."
Verchiel frowned.
"That kind of nonsense should only happen in stories..."
"Exactly. And you're in a story, aren't you?"
They arrived at a large steel door sealed with five layers of annihilation runes. Aetheria touched each one, whispering an opening spell in an ancient language.
As the door creaked open, the scent of metal, dried blood, and something older than death wafted out.
"Asgard's Subterranean Prison. A failed sealing project that even the academy directors never mentioned in closed-door meetings," Aetheria explained.
Behind the door was a long hallway with many cells. Inside, monsters. But not ordinary monsters. They weren't just creatures. They were... experiments.
"Do you know why the system gave you skills, Verchiel?" Aetheria asked without looking at him.
"Because I had to survive."
"Wrong. Because this world knows who you are. But it doesn't fully acknowledge it. The system trusts you... in the wrong way."
As they descended a deeper corridor, they found an observation room filled with large mirrors, all cracked. In the center of the room stood a silhouette... resembling Verchiel.
"What the...?"
The shadow opened its eyes. Its face was identical. But its eyes were completely black.
"You... are not me."
"You are the one who failed," the entity replied. "You created this world and then ran. This world doesn't need a cowardly god."
Verchiel drew his scythe. A black aura danced around his body.
"Enough talk."
The battle began. The mirrors shattered, and each shard became a small portal from which mini-monsters emerged, all bearing Verchiel's face.
Aetheria tried to keep the portals from spreading. But the magical pressure from the shadow entity made even her usually calm body tremble.
Verchiel was forced to lower his ego. He retreated, holding on, studying.
"If he truly possesses a fragment of my memory... then his movements will reflect my old habits."
[Writer's Instinct reacts to one's own combat patterns. Progress: 78% towards full mastery]
With a single spinning motion, Verchiel slid to the left side instead of the right, as he usually did.
The shadow was late in reading, and the scythe struck him in the chest.
[Scythe Mastery → B (Unlock Passive: Death Spiral Feint)]
The entity vanished. But from the final crack in the mirror, a mysterious voice rang out:
"This world has rewritten your script. You are no longer the author. You are the character, and you cannot escape."
After the battle, the system didn't give much EXP. Just a little. Verchiel knew why.
"That entity... wasn't a monster. But a part of reality."
Aetheria approached. "You're starting to understand, Verchiel. You can't raise your level and skills arbitrarily. You'll only grow if you resist the will of the world."
"I've been resisting from the start."
"Not yet. But soon, someone will arrive. Not a monster. Not the system. But an old player from outside."
The next day, the atmosphere at the academy suddenly became tense.
The top students from the elite factions: White Fang, Ironblood, and Crowned Moon gathered in a closed-door meeting. Rumors had spread that someone had infiltrated the forbidden area.
Someone saw Verchiel and Aetheria exit the underground gate.
"Verchiel Schwarz... who exactly is he?"
"A new student whose level isn't even in the double digits yet, yet he can defeat Shardscale and break free from the seal? This doesn't make sense."
That night, Verchiel received a duel challenge from the leader of the Crowned Moon Faction, Zeyvian Althorne. He was level 18, wielding dual swords with the C-tier skill "Mirror Arc Edge."
"They want to test my abilities."
"Or... they want to eliminate you early."
Aetheria stood by the window, her eyes scanning the night sky. Her eyes reflected a cluster of stars forming a pattern... the symbol of the system.
"Whatever happens, Verchiel, don't die. If you die now... the world will refuse to restart."
---
[Verchiel Schwarz Stats - End of Chapter 7]
Level: 7 (increases slowly as battles don't grant full EXP)
HP: 172
MP: 103
STR: 14
AGI: 17
INT: 18
VIT: 15
[Active Skill]
Awareness D
Writer's Instinct B
Scythe Mastery B (Passive Unlocked: Death Spiral Feint)
[Passive Skill]
Battle Insight (Initial)
[Special Stats]
Privilege EXP x3 (only active against native monsters, not system entities)
Initial Bond: Aetheria Arvane