Michael's hands slowly moved toward the keyboard.
The thought that he could easily finish Goblin's story didn't escape him.
The content wasn't pulled from any published work, and even though the main structure was already there, he would still have to flesh it out.
Was it really plagiarism?
Wasn't it more like co-writing?
"Even if it flops, I'll gain experience…" he convinced himself while rereading the drafts.
As he kept reading, an exclamation slipped from his lips.
"Damn, this story is incredible," he said in complete honesty.
The fanfic Goblin had proposed felt like the foundation of an epic saga.
A feeling he rarely got from reading other people's works.
He couldn't help but reread the entire draft, then obsessively analyze the prologue he was supposed to write in his own style.
"…What the hell is this?" he muttered, staring at the finished result.
A shiver ran down Michael's skinny frame.
No matter how many times he reread the protagonist's introduction scenes, their perfect, meticulous progression gave him chills.
Had this story really been written just for a fanfiction?
Michael couldn't help but think it was a waste, but the work didn't belong to him.
It belonged to Goblin originally.
"Who is this person…?"
For a moment, a flicker of suspicion toward Goblin crept in, but it didn't last long.
Michael was too consumed by greed to analyze the situation with any real detachment.
***
"Uh… huh… what?"
Around midnight, less than an hour after posting the first chapter, the view count had already hit 2,000.
There were also 200 collections and dozens of comments.
Michael was stunned by this unprecedented surge—he had never seen anything like it for a first chapter.
[Donald270: Wow… I thought I'd read a lot of High School DxD fanfics, but this is a legit masterpiece.]
[Cidkagenou1467: Did you pour your entire soul into the prologue or what? You didn't hold back at all.]
[akimichi123: Pff, it should be a crime to find this so early. Post more please… or I'm seriously gonna come find you.]
The comments were extremely positive—and addictive for Michael.
It was almost unbelievable.
Another comment popped up shortly after.
[Demon Hunter: Wait, how is the view count already this high?]
Michael read the emerging comments, then stared blankly at the comment section for about ten seconds before slamming the window shut at lightning speed.
He then rushed to open his inbox to message his benefactor.
Even though he had brought the idea to life, it still belonged to Goblin.
Michael wanted to share his joy.
[The reaction is insane. Have you seen it?]
His hands and feet were trembling as he typed that short sentence.
Unfortunately, no reply came.
Thinking they might just be slow to check, Michael waited all evening.
Nothing.
Figuring they might be traveling, he gave up on an immediate response.
But Goblin had vanished, as if their mission was complete.
Still, the outline sent by the mysterious benefactor remained on Michael's desktop.
A constant reminder that he hadn't dreamed it all up in a depressive haze.
"Could I really keep writing it exactly the way Goblin's outline dictated?" he thought while rereading the draft to prepare the next part of the plot.
A good question—one only the future could answer.
Fortunately, the goddess of luck smiled on Michael this time.
The results of his ability to bring Goblin's vision to life unfolded right before his eyes.
His fanfic had finally reached the peak he had always craved.
He had even managed to launch a thriving Patreon, thanks to his readers' loyalty.
From that moment on, Michael wrote like a madman.
He wrote and posted three, four, five chapters a day without stopping—except to go to work and attend university.
Michael would have posted even more.
The young man was convinced he couldn't slow down; he was gunning for the top of the rankings.
The writing flowed so effortlessly.
The passion burned so fiercely.
The greed was so intense.
It was as if Michael had actually lived inside the fanfiction he was manifesting through his "talent."
Sentences poured out without effort.
Like someone who had crossed an endless abyss alone and finally found light after decades, Michael threw himself into it body and soul.
And the result was success.
Readers' attention and love, plus a profitable Patreon that let him quit his part-time job.
Michael had made it…
Yet his body couldn't keep up with the insane writing pace.
Lelouche VI Zéro… closed his eyes.
At the exact moment this happened in his room, his laptop screen lit up by itself.
[Goblin: Indeed, my dear friend, I've seen just how successful your story has become. However, I feel it's lacking a bit of tension.]
…
In a dimly lit room, a teenager was sprawled carelessly on the bed.
"Ugh… grr…" Suddenly, he started letting out pained groans and thrashing around on the sheets, ignoring the used tissues scattered around, stained with a suspicious white substance.
Eventually the young man rolled off the bed, clutching his head.
"Ah… m-my head…" he stammered as he pushed himself up from the floor.
The teenager was somewhat skinny and had an above-average face. Still, calling him handsome would be an exaggeration.
Instinctively, he reached for a pair of glasses not far from where he'd fallen.
When he put them on, the young man noticed how abnormally large the lenses were.
"What? These aren't my glasses," he said, taking them off.
Unfortunately, another sharp pain stabbed through his skull.
He nearly dropped the glasses, but managed to keep a firm grip.
" Kenji… Kenji Motohama… holy shit, I'm in High School DxD! " he thought as he slowly pulled his hand away from his skull.
(Image)
The pain faded once the body's memories finished merging, but it was quickly replaced by questions and fear.
The High School DxD universe might look like the dream of countless healthy young men. But Michael knew full well just how dangerous this place could be.
He had literally written two fanfics set in it.
"N-no panic… if Issei becomes a devil, I can always negotiate with him to turn me into one too," he muttered, sitting down on the bed.
Unlike typical fictional worlds, humans in High School DxD aren't really an independent, sovereign race.
Michael saw them more like sheep—fully protected by the neutral or peaceful supernatural factions.
There are literally too few genuinely dangerous humans. Usually, anyone who shows real talent gets recruited by one of the factions.
The temptation of a longer life is just too strong.
Bing!
While Michael was pondering how to live his new life as a pervert, a notification sound rang out beside him.
"W-wait a second, that's my PC!" he said, quickly grabbing the laptop.
[Welcome, Author: Lelouch VI Zéro]