"Congratulations, Reader. You have completed the plot."
That's what the voice said.
Eros, however, wasn't so interested in the words as he was in the simple fact that he had managed to survive. Against all odds, against death itself, against the venom and coils of a god: he was still breathing. Who would've thought? Certainly not him. Eros had come dangerously close to messing his pants.
«Holy crap. That Cerberus was something else,» he thought, still trembling, still soaked in ichor. «Maybe I shouldn't have doubted Loki so much.»
And as if reading his mind, the handsome Impostor Lord of the Underworld spoke into his ear, smooth and mocking: "Oh, Eros, my dear friend, you did it! Now you can leave the book! You see how easy it was?"
The comment instantly soured the small euphoria blooming in his chest.
"Easy? You call this easy?" Eros barked into the silence. "Being trapped in this hellhole has scrambled your brain. I've died several times just to make it this far!"
Laughter rolled through the ruined chamber, echoing like it came from everywhere and nowhere at once. Loki's laugh wasn't just sound; it was presence, wrapping around Eros until he swore the trickster stood right behind him.
"Ah, forgive me, forgive me," Loki chuckled, tone bright with false contrition. "You're right… how inconsiderate of me!"
Eros groaned. His voice shook with exhaustion. "And now what?"
He expected a quip, maybe a teasing answer, but there was no time for one. His Diary began to glow, too bright, searing the ruined temple with light until Eros had to shield his eyes. The pages fluttered as if caught in a storm, light spilling through every crack.
And then, just like that, everything snapped to black.
The ruins, the ichor, the god's corpse… gone.
He was weightless, floating in a vast, endless void. His body was gone; he was incorporeal, stripped of weight and shape, nothing but a thought suspended in darkness.
In front of him, his Diary opened by itself. Pages flipped, one after another, until a blank sheet appeared. The sound of typewriter keys clattered in the emptiness, each stroke loud as thunder. Letters began to carve themselves into the page, glowing faintly as they formed.
"Reader Eros, you have killed a god. Claim your reward."
Eros blinked at the words. His chest tightened. «A reward, huh? Let's see what kind of twisted joke this maniac book has in store for me this time.»
He raised his chin, trying to look braver than he felt. "I accept. I claim my reward, crazy Diary."
The pages responded instantly.
"Reader, you have received two Mementos of the plot."
He squinted. "Mementos? The hell does that mean?" His lips twisted. "Please don't let it be something that explodes in my face."
He wanted to flip through the Diary right then, to check what the mysterious items were, but the voice wasn't finished.
"Reader, you have completed your first plot."
"Your rank has ascended."
"Your ability, Immortal Martyr, has ascended."
"You have unlocked a new ability. Do you wish to review your new status?"
Eros whistled low. "Well, damn. Quite the laundry list. Sure. Show me the shiny stuff."
He nodded eagerly, then winced at himself, realizing the Diary couldn't see. "…Yes, please."
The pages flipped again, rustling at breakneck speed until they stopped with a violent snap. Letters burned across the paper, one after another, like a phantom hand writing in real time.
Reader's Notes
Reader: Eros
Rank: [Aware Reader]
Active effects: [The Blood Pact]
Character: [Prometheus]
Type: [Mythological]
Role: [The Outcast]
Ability: [Immortal Martyr II] [???]
Eros's eyes went wide. Down below, where three flames had once burned, there were now five.
His laugh came out sharp and shaky. "Wii, more chances to die in the most horrible ways imaginable… fantastic." Then he sobered, rubbing at his face. "Well. If I think about it, that's actually a huge improvement. Not like I plan on jumping back into a cursed book anytime soon, though."
He tried to focus on the mysterious [???] ability, but the Diary only gave him a curt response:
This ability is evolving.
And below it, the same cryptic counter he'd seen before:
"Yeah, thanks for the clarity," he muttered. "That really helps."
But new lines were already etching themselves beneath the page.
Mementos: [Fang Daggers] [Snakeskin] [Cerberus]
"Cerberus, huh? Guess he counts as a party member now."
He concentrated on the first two, and sure enough, fresh descriptions appeared on the following sheet.
[Fang Daggers]: A pair of gleaming, razor-sharp blades, carved from the fangs of Apophis. Each cut stacks venom into the wound, weakening the target over time.
"This would've been nice about five deaths ago," Eros muttered, flexing his fingers like he could already feel the blades there.
[Snakeskin]: A light armor fashioned from the shed skin of Apophis. Provides basic protection against physical strikes, but high resistance against piercing and slashing attacks.
Eros stared at the words, then glanced down at his memory of ragged, blood-soaked clothes. He thought about the stolen rags he'd worn from corpses. Then he laughed, the sound hollow. "Cool. An upgrade. Just a little late, though. Guess the book has a sick sense of timing."
He closed the page with a sharp snap of his mind, and that's when Loki's voice returned.
"Eros."
The tone startled him. Loki sounded… serious. No mocking lilt, no sly chuckle. Just sharp weight in his words.
"Remember when I called you a Stray Reader? An Unbound?"
"Yeah," Eros said slowly, unsettled. "Whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. Why?"
He swore he could hear the trickster sigh on the other end of the void.
"I don't have much time to explain. You'll have to discover most of it yourself. I won't be able to speak to you for a while."
Eros blinked. His gut tightened. "What are you talking about? What's going on?"
"Just keep this in mind," Loki murmured, voice like cold steel. "The world you're going back to… it may not be what you believe it is. Your life will probably never be the same again. I'm sorry."
That stung. "Wait… What?! Stop with the riddles. How is my life going to change?"
But Loki's voice was already fading, stretched thin, like it was being torn away. "I'm sorry. Remember: don't speak of our pact to anyone. Not a soul. Probably, when you wake up you'll be…" His words cut short.
"Be what? Loki? Loki!" Panic edged his voice.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing. Then the impostor's voice slammed into his skull one last time, loud as a scream:
"Reader, your story has concluded. Good luck!"
The void collapsed.
A hurricane ripped him forward, dragging him toward a distant white point. He spun and spun, weightless, his stomach heaving. The point widened, swallowing the darkness, swallowing him.
He tried to scream but no sound left his lips.
Then the light consumed him whole.
***
Eros woke with a violent gasp.
He sucked air like a drowning man breaking the surface, chest heaving. His eyes watered; his throat burned. For a second, he thought he might vomit, but he swallowed it down. Cold sweat slicked his forehead. His heart beat so hard it hurt.
Something was different.
The weight of the book's world, the constant oppression of lurking death, was gone. The silence was different too. He wasn't in the Underworld, wasn't in some cursed chamber.
"I'm back," he whispered, voice raw. "I'm alive. I'm… home."
A grin split his face. Tears welled unbidden. He laughed, half-mad, shaking with relief. «I came back! I actually came back!»
But the joy was short-lived. But the laughter that broke from his lips died quickly. A bitter aftertaste clung to it.
He had gone into her room for one reason: to find Amanda, to at least uncover a trace of where she had gone. But he was swallowed by the book. And what had he brought back? Scars. Nightmares. Suffering. But not a single clue about his sister.
«Amanda, I'm sorry. I swear I'll find you. No matter the cost. If not in this world, then in any other.»
He let out a deep sigh. Well, now he had to get out of there. The house was sealed off. He had no idea how much time had passed in the real world, and the police were probably already looking for him. He needed to move, to find a safe place before getting himself into even more trouble.
«Though honestly, I'm not sure what more trouble I could possibly have on top of the mess I've already had…»
He tried to sit up and realized his body ached, every bone screaming like he'd run a marathon with a pack of bricks tied to him.
Then he noticed it.
Light. Too much of it.
When he'd entered the book, he'd been in Amanda's dark room, shadows and silence. But now… harsh fluorescent lights glared above him, white and clinical.
He looked down and froze.
His wrists and ankles were bound with straps to a cold metal bed. A hospital gown clung to his body. The sheets reeked faintly of disinfectant. Around him stood humming machines, blinking with strange lights.
"What the… is this a hospital?" His voice cracked.
The only door in the room opened.
Three men walked in. Two of them held guns, already raised, already aimed directly at him. The sight of the barrels sent a chill racing down his spine.
And the third…
The third man made Eros's stomach lurch.
Tall, broad-shouldered, somewhere in his forties. His hair was cropped close, his jaw set hard. But it was the eyes—piercing blue, cold and relentless—that made Eros freeze. The man looked him over like a scientist inspecting a specimen. Then he smiled.
It wasn't friendly.
It was the kind of smile that made Eros want to shrink away, one that promised things he couldn't name but already feared.
"Hello, Reader," the man said calmly. His voice was steady, unshaken, every syllable carrying weight. Then the smile slipped, replaced with shadow.
"If you try anything stupid…" His tone dropped like a blade. "…you're a dead man."
Eros stared back, heart pounding, sweat dripping down his temple.
«Yeah… definitely not the welcome I was hoping for.»