[INT. VOID BETWEEN STORIES – AGAIN.]
MC: "...We're back."
Author: "No applause?"
MC: "You disappeared for two months, left me hanging in literal story limbo, and now you want applause?"
Author: "I was writing—"
MC: "No. You were overthinking, doomscrolling, spiraling into self-doubt, downloading productivity apps you never opened, then eating chips while telling yourself 'I'm working on the outline.'"
Author: "…It's called the creative process."
MC: "You're more creatively bankrupt than the last fantasy anime with a demon king plot."
[Beat.]
Author: "Okay, rude. But fair."
MC: "Now that you're here, what are we doing? Same formula? Get dumped into a cliché world, pretend to care, make a few jokes, and then punch a discount god in the face?"
Author: "No. Everything changes now."
MC: "Oh wow, dramatic much? What's next, a training arc? Redemption? Flashbacks with rainy pianos?"
Author: "No. A system."
MC: "A what?"
[Author manifests a giant golden slot machine in the middle of the void. It sparkles with the budget of a gacha game ad and screams "TRY YOUR LUCK!" in 7 different languages.]
MC: "...That looks like a lawsuit waiting to happen."
Author: "It's the Wheel System. This is how we're doing every world from now on. Total randomization. You don't get to choose anything anymore. I spin the wheels. You live the result."
MC: "That's not a system. That's gambling."
Author: "Exactly. Just like writing."
[Three massive wheels appear.]
Wheel 1: Personality
Wheel 2: Power Type
Wheel 3: Goal
MC: "So you're telling me my entire fate is determined by RNG?"
Author: "You always complained about being too OP. This time, it's balanced. You can't cheat this."
MC: "You underestimate my talent for breaking things."
Author: "Spin the damn wheel."
[MC sighs, steps up to the first wheel.]
---
Wheel 1: Personality
[It spins. Lands on... "Emotionally Detached War Strategist."]
MC: "…Wow."
Author: "You're basically a sad Vulcan with trauma."
MC: "So nothing changed."
Author: "Next."
---
Wheel 2: Power Type
[It spins. Lands on… "Memory Parasite – Consumes Forgotten Skills from Others."]
MC: "Okay, what the hell is that?"
Author: "You can steal discarded abilities, but only ones people forget they even had. It's useless... unless you get creative."
MC: "So I'm a dumpster diver for skills."
Author: "Hey, recyclers are heroes."
---
Wheel 3: Goal
[It spins. Lands on… "Lead a Forgotten Army to Overthrow a God of History."]
MC: "...Wow. That escalated."
Author: "Told you this arc was different."
MC: "So let me summarize: I'm emotionally dead inside, eat memories like a storytelling tapeworm, and now I have to lead a forgotten army to fight a memory-tampering god?"
Author: "Precisely."
MC: "...You okay, bro?"
Author: "Define okay."
---
[The void begins to crack.]
MC: "Wait, what's the isekai method?"
Author: "Ah, yes. This time… reincarnation. New family. New identity. And you won't remember your true self until a condition is met."
MC: "You're wiping my memory?! Again?!"
Author: "You'll have actual life this time. An origin. A mystery. Maybe even siblings who don't get killed in a flashback."
MC: "And when do I remember I'm me?"
Author: "When you meet someone whose memory you can't eat."
MC: "…That's vague and poetic. I hate it."
Author: "Good. Now go. Rebooting narrative."
---
[The void collapses. MC starts fading into light.]
MC: "WAIT! What's my name in this world?!"
Author: "Figure it out like everyone else!"
[INT. UNKNOWN WORLD – MORNING. A CHILD'S BEDROOM.]
A sunbeam pierces through an old wooden window. Dust floats in the air like tiny, lazy memories. We see a modest room: hand-carved shelves, a crude map of the world pinned to the wall, and a half-finished wooden sword lying on the bed.
A boy — maybe 13 — wakes up in a cold sweat, panting like he just lost a war in his dreams.
His name is…
Well. Even he doesn't know yet.
---
[Narration – Yes, this is Meta MC. But not fully awakened yet.]
> "Imagine waking up and not knowing you're you. Just vague dreams, a sense of deja vu, and an annoying itch at the back of your head telling you this isn't the first time you've lived a life.
> Yeah. Welcome to Monday."
---
The boy looks into the mirror. Brown hair. Green eyes. A tired expression that feels a thousand years older than his body.
Boy (not-yet-MC):
"...Again."
He touches his face like he's making sure it's real. There's a deep heaviness behind his gaze, like his soul has been bruised by lifetimes he doesn't remember.
But he brushes it off. Dresses. Goes downstairs. It's a quiet little village — peaceful, humble. Too peaceful.
[Narration (yes, still sorta MC but without full consciousness)]
> "This place is too... normal. You ever feel like your life is a filler arc? Yeah. That's this. Everything here smells like set-up."
He's greeted by a kind woman — his "mother." She smiles like she's been doing it for years. Maybe she has.
Maybe she hasn't.
Her name is Mira, and she hands him a small bag.
Mira:
"Go pick up some herbs from Old Darl's place. And don't try to chase those wild dogs again. You're not a knight yet."
He nods, already halfway out the door.
He doesn't know it, but the wheel spin has started everything. He's living a life meant to build something — and eventually destroy something far greater.
---
[EXT. OUTSKIRTS OF THE VILLAGE – LATER]
The boy walks through the forest, kicking pebbles, bored out of his mind.
Boy:
"Why do I feel like there should be background music right now?"
A squirrel stares at him like it heard that.
He hears something. A whisper in the wind — a wordless hum. A pressure. Familiar. Wrong.
He stops.
There's a child by the tree. Not from the village. Pale skin. Silver hair. Too clean. Too silent. Like it's not really there.
Child:
"You feel it, don't you?"
Boy:
"...Feel what?"
Child:
"The wrongness."
And then the child is gone.
---
[INT. AUTHOR'S META VOID – MEANWHILE]
Author:
"...Okay, that was creepy. Even I don't know who that kid is."
MC's Voice (echoing from future consciousness):
"Good. That means you're doing it right."
---
[INT. VILLAGE SQUARE – NIGHT]
The boy lies on the roof of his house, staring at the stars. He's restless. Not because he's a teenager with too much time, but because something is clawing its way to the surface.
Memories he never made.
Voices he never heard.
Phrases like:
"Memory Eater."
"Emotionally Detached War Strategist."
"Lead an army of the forgotten."
And one specific voice.
MC (future voice, barely a whisper):
"You've got one hell of a role to play, kid."
He bolts upright.
"What the hell was that?!"
---
[INT. AUTHOR'S VOID – AGAIN]
Author:
"Okay, now the wheels are turning. He's hearing echoes of his real self."
MC (actual):
"When do I fully awaken?"
Author:
"When you meet someone you can't steal memories from."
MC:
"So... a plot-important NPC."
Author:
"Exactly."
---
[NEXT MORNING]
The boy is sent to the city — Everra, the Capital of Histories — to start his apprenticeship under a local historian guild. They're known to hoard memories, relics, and fragments of the past long forgotten.
Perfect place for someone who subconsciously devours forgotten memories like potato chips.
He boards the cart. Rides off.
Somewhere deep within, something clicks.
Narration (still MC-lite):
"This is where it begins."
[INT. EVERRA CITY – HISTORIAN GUILD ARCHIVES – LATE EVENING]
The city of Everra isn't beautiful. It's not grand. It's… strange.
Everything looks like it was built out of memory — inconsistent, almost patchwork. Some buildings are grand like palaces, others like decaying huts. You could swear the main gate changed size while you were staring at it.
And our boy?
He's overwhelmed.
Boy (still not-fully-aware-MC):
"...Is this place glitched?"
He walks into the Historian Guild, a massive cathedral of knowledge. Marble walls. Spiraling memory glyphs. Books bound with whispers and shelves that move when you're not looking.
The receptionist is blindfolded. He speaks without turning his head.
Receptionist:
"Welcome, [REDACTED]."
Boy:
"Wait, what?"
Receptionist:
"Sorry. The system glitched. I meant—welcome, trainee."
Boy:
"...That's worse?"
---
[INT. ARCHIVE LEVEL B – HOURS LATER]
He's assigned a mentor — Archivist Kael, a woman with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue. She hands him his first assignment.
Kael:
"Re-organize this room. But touch nothing glowing, whispering, or floating."
Boy:
"So, clean the... safe stuff?"
Kael:
"If it feels safe, you're probably already hallucinating."
Boy:
"...Got it."
---
As he sorts through the records, he finds a sealed container labeled [UNRETURNED MEMORY: 71 YEARS AGO – HOST UNCONFIRMED].
It starts humming.
He doesn't mean to touch it.
He really doesn't.
But it latches onto him like a forgotten dream. And just like that—
FLASH.
---
[INT. UNKNOWN MEMORY – TIMELESS VOID]
He sees war.
A battlefield torn apart by psychic echoes.
Thousands screaming.
And in the center—himself. Older. Colder. Laughing like he's already won. Wearing a cloak of silver and red, eyes glowing like dying stars.
Older MC (fully aware):
"Who are you... really?"
And then—
SLAM.
He's back in the archive, on the floor, sweating buckets.
Kael stands above him, staring.
Kael:
"You triggered a forbidden memory. Congratulations. You're now on several watchlists."
Boy:
"...I don't even have a library card yet."
---
[INT. AUTHOR'S VOID – AGAIN]
Author:
"Ooooooh damn. That was too early. That was way too early. The memory tether shouldn't have activated until Chapter 83!"
MC (in comfy chair with popcorn):
"Wheels be spinning, baby. You never really had control."
Author:
"You're lucky I'm letting this plot breathe. Also, can we talk about how you're technically possessing a 13-year-old right now?"
MC:
"Emotionally, I'm 400. Mentally, I'm 12. Physically? It's fiction. Shut up."
---
[INT. EVERRA CITY – NIGHT]
Back in the city, strange figures are already moving.
People in black masks talk to one another in riddles.
Masked Figure:
"He has the scent. The Echo Flare marked him."
Second Masked Figure:
"Then the Mind-Eater returns. Notify the Archive Tombs. Initiate Lock Protocol."
---
[INT. BOY'S ROOM – THAT SAME NIGHT]
He dreams of mirrors shattering.
Of voices screaming.
Of a name scratched into every surface.
"YOU."
---
[EXT. RIVERSIDE – NEXT MORNING]
He tries to shake it off.
Goes to wash his face in the river.
But there's someone sitting beside him now.
A girl. His age. White hair. Pale skin. Same as the one from the woods.
Girl:
"You're breaking through. I can feel it."
Boy:
"Who... are you?"
Girl:
"You'll remember soon. Just be careful. They don't want you waking up."
Boy:
"'They'?"
She smiles.
"The storytellers."
She vanishes again.
And this time?
He remembers a sliver.
A name.
A goal.
And a voice inside his head whispering:
MC (real self):
"We're about to break the system."
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – LAST SCENE]
Author:
"Oh, god. You're gonna hijack the whole world arc, aren't you?"
MC:
"Oh, please. I'm gonna rewrite it while living it."
[INT. HISTORIAN GUILD – INNER CHAMBER – SAME NIGHT]
The boy wakes up with dried blood on his nose and a splitting headache. His eyes aren't just seeing anymore—they're decoding. Glyphs, hidden meanings, flickering overlays of past echoes written into the very walls.
Boy:
"...Either I'm going insane or the room is trying to talk to me."
Kael, his mentor, slides into the room like she's been watching him sleep—which she has. It's fine. Totally not creepy.
Kael:
"You triggered an Echo Pulse. The walls aren't talking. They're remembering."
Boy:
"Is that better?"
Kael:
"No."
---
[INT. AUTHOR'S VOID – Meanwhile]
Author:
"Alright. I'll admit. This arc's getting juicy."
MC (grinning):
"You act like you did something."
Author:
"I literally designed this world."
MC:
"You designed a sad library. I made it an enigma thriller."
Author:
"...We're doing therapy later."
---
[EXT. OUTER WALLS OF EVERRA – SUNRISE]
We cut to a real antagonist introduction now. No cartoon mustache. No evil laugh. Just a man standing on the edge of the world, staring through a rift into the echo of timelines that shouldn't exist.
His name is Veylnar.
No monologue. No tragic music. He just breathes and the grass dies around him.
Next to him, a kid—maybe 10 years old—wrapped in memory chains, whispers:
Kid:
"He's waking up."
Veylnar:
"Then the story begins again."
---
[INT. HISTORIAN GUILD – TRAINING WARD]
The boy's now being forced to go through "Memory Combat Orientation," where you learn how to use your own recollections as weapons.
He's failing, obviously.
Kael:
"You're supposed to manifest your inner trauma as a blade."
Boy:
"Ma'am, my trauma is mostly awkward text messages and forgetting people's names."
But when pushed—when he really focuses—
A jagged, ethereal dagger forms.
It pulses with unstable energy.
And carved along the side, barely legible:
"I Am The Remembered Lie."
Kael drops her chalk.
Kael:
"...That's not supposed to exist."
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – Live Commentary Segment]
Author (panicking):
"Okay, I need to address this. That weapon? I didn't write that. That came out of nowhere. I literally can't trace where in the lore this thing was born."
MC (sipping black coffee):
"Sometimes stories write themselves. Or maybe... I wrote you."
Author:
"Don't make this Matrix."
MC:
"Too late. Already took the red pill and spiked it with caffeine."
---
[EXT. HISTORIAN GUILD – CITY ROOFTOPS – NIGHT]
The city's skies fracture slightly—an aurora of memory flickers through the heavens.
All over Everra, people begin remembering things they never lived. Alternate lives. Lost timelines. Hints of a loop broken. Dreams that feel too real.
A baker remembers how to wield a sword.
A child starts sketching machines from the future.
An old man gasps and says, "He's back."
---
[INT. BOY'S ROOM – SAME NIGHT]
The boy writes a name into his notebook, almost unconsciously:
"A.R.C.H.I.V.E."
As soon as he does, his vision flickers.
And on the last page of the notebook, a sentence writes itself:
"You are the variable. Don't let the story use you."
He starts to panic.
Until—
He hears a faint knocking.
He opens the door. No one's there.
Just a small device. Looks like a dice-shaped compass.
And a note:
"The wheel spins soon."
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – One Last Peek]
MC:
"Oh, it's happening."
Author:
"You're not ready."
MC:
"I'm not supposed to be."
[INT. HISTORIAN GUILD – TRAINING CHAMBER – MORNING]
Kael circles the boy like he's both experiment and execution. In her hand? A memory shard. Transparent like glass, heavy like a black hole.
Kael:
"You're going to link with this shard."
Boy:
"What if it kills me?"
Kael:
"Then I'll know not to give it to the next idiot."
Training. Combat. Tactical memory access. World lore infusion via pain and screaming—basically Hogwarts, if Dumbledore had war PTSD.
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – Our Favorite Pit of Commentary]
Author (wheezing):
"Let's take a moment to appreciate how messed up this world is already and we're not even five parts in."
MC:
"You know what's worse?"
Author:
"You're gonna tell me, aren't you?"
MC:
"You never actually told the readers what the rules are. You just sprinkled terms like 'Archive Blade' and 'Echo Pulse' like confetti."
Author (coughs):
"Lore drip-feed, baby."
MC:
"Drip? Bro, that's a drought."
---
[INT. WORLD SYSTEM ROOM – SOMEWHERE BETWEEN TIMELINES]
A council of masked figures watches a spinning board. Not a digital UI. A literal wooden wheel. Three layers. Like it's built by ancient chaos gods with ADHD.
Wheelmaster:
"Time to throw the dice."
Click. Click. CLICK.
Three results:
1. Personality Type: Cynical Idealist
2. Power Archetype: Reactive Memory Sculpting
3. Narrative Role: Catalyst-Loner
Mask 7:
"Uh… this one again?"
Wheelmaster:
"He's our best bet. Or our worst ending."
---
[INT. HISTORIAN GUILD – NIGHT – POST-LINK TEST]
The boy's power activates mid-dream.
He relives a war he never fought.
Bleeds from wounds no one inflicted.
Kael finds him collapsed on the floor, whispering names of people who've been dead for over a thousand years.
Boy:
"Why do I remember them? Why do they remember me?"
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – Panic Rising]
Author:
"He wasn't supposed to connect to the Long Memory this early."
MC (nodding):
"He's breaking your plot."
Author:
"He's breaking me."
MC:
"Good. Maybe we'll get a proper twist now."
---
[INT. CITY SQUARE – NEXT DAY]
A public reading.
The Council reveals a prophecy written 900 years ago…in the same handwriting the boy has been using in his notebook.
Citizens panic.
Priests faint.
Kids start LARPing with sticks.
The world shifts.
He's not just a memory wielder anymore.
He's becoming the Variable—the one who shouldn't exist but now can't be erased.
---
[INT. ARCHIVAL SUBBASEMENT – SECRET CHAMBER]
A hidden library door unlocks only when the boy bleeds on a page he's never seen.
Inside? A message burned into the stone floor:
> "If you're reading this, then I failed.
But it's okay. You're me now."
Cue dramatic music.
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – Breaking the Rules Again]
MC:
"You know what this means."
Author:
"That he's a reincarnated memory of the original world-changer and is going to break the loop?"
MC:
"No. It means you're gonna need a whiteboard. Because now readers have theories."
---
[EXT. OUTER CITY – CLOSE TO THE BORDER – SUNSET]
The sky begins to tear again. Not as a portal, but a projection. Across the clouds, an old battlefield replays like a movie reel.
Everyone watches. Everyone forgets how to breathe.
And the boy?
He walks through it like he belongs there.
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – Last Commentary for Part 5]
Author:
"Okay. You win. He's interesting now."
MC:
"Took you five parts to admit it."
Author:
"Now comes the real issue."
MC:
"What?"
Author:
"We haven't even gotten to the villain reveal yet."
[INT. NIGHTMARE ZONE – BOY'S MIND PALACE]
We open on a scene that's not supposed to exist.
A classroom, flickering in and out of reality.
Desks float. Blackboards bleed ink.
And written on every surface—walls, ceiling, even the boy's arms—is the same sentence:
> "You are not supposed to be here."
The boy wakes up screaming. Again.
Boy (gasping):
"Not again. Not again. I'm not—him."
But he is.
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – Emergency Meeting]
Author:
"Okay, we officially broke the fourth wall, the fifth one, and whatever number comes after that."
MC (calmly eating popcorn):
"I warned you about unregulated reincarnation."
Author:
"He's remembering timelines that don't exist. Plot lines I never wrote. Fanfics that never got posted."
MC:
"Oh, he's one of those. A walking spoiler dump."
Author:
"If he says 'multiverse' unironically, I swear I'm rebooting everything."
---
[INT. HISTORIAN GUILD – STRATEGIC ROOM]
The Guild is panicking now.
Kael brings the boy in chains.
Not because he's dangerous.
Because he's starting to ask questions only the founders should know.
Guild Leader:
"You claimed you were just an orphan. Now you remember hidden timelines.
Battle formations from the Forgotten Wars. Names that don't exist in public record. Explain."
Boy (coolly):
"I don't remember them. They remember me."
Everyone:
"Oh no."
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – AGAIN, OF COURSE]
MC:
"I like this version of him. He's got drip now."
Author:
"He's got trauma and mystery. That's like crack for readers."
MC:
"You said this arc was going to be slow-burn worldbuilding."
Author:
"Yeah. Then you and your damn wheel spin gave him Reactive Memory Sculpting."
---
[INT. DEEP ARCHIVE VAULT – LEVEL 9 RESTRICTED]
A secret file gets unsealed.
Not by hand.
By resonance.
The boy walks past, and the system freaks out.
> Access granted to: [REDACTED]
Subject Identified: The Variable
Legacy Echo Detected.
And then the vault opens itself.
Inside?
A floating orb.
A recorded memory of the first war.
It shows himself. Older. Bleeding. Dying. Saying goodbye.
Memory-Him:
"They'll reset everything. But they won't erase me. Not all of me.
If you're watching this, don't trust the Guild. Don't trust the wheel. And never trust the one behind the mask."
Real-Him:
"…What the hell am I?"
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – Absolute Panic Mode]
Author:
"He's not supposed to figure this out until Chapter 92! I had a flowchart!"
MC:
"Did your chart include 'boy becomes existential nuke by part 6'?"
Author:
"…Shut up."
---
[INT. GUILD HQ – WAR ROOM]
The Guild debates executing him.
Some believe he's the return of an ancient hero.
Others, the reincarnation of their greatest enemy.
And somewhere in a different city…
Villain (masked, smug):
"He's waking up.
Finally."
They look over an ancient board—strategies etched in blood.
Plans that are centuries old.
But one piece is new. And it glows.
> The Variable: Active.
Villain:
"Let's see if he remembers me."
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – Midway Commentary Break]
MC:
"So, villain reveal's coming?"
Author:
"Not yet. Tease it. Make people thirst for it."
MC:
"Wow. This is why readers bully you."
Author:
"Bro I get death threats and ship art in the same inbox."
MC:
"…Are they shipping us again?"
Author:
"They never stopped."
---
[EXT. MOUNTAIN PASS – TRAVELING TO THE NEXT CITY]
Kael agrees to take him to the Oracle.
It's the only one who might know how deep this goes.
On the way, the boy meets a merchant who recognizes him from a memory the boy never lived.
Merchant:
"You saved my wife and kids back in Emberlight! Don't you remember?"
Boy (quietly):
"…No. But I'm glad I did."
Another memory imprint.
His power is growing.
And something—someone—is unlocking these fragments one by one.
He's not just remembering.
He's becoming.
[EXT. THE ANCIENT TEMPLE OF ORACLES – DUSK]
The temple looms in the distance, carved into the side of a jagged cliff.
A place where the wind doesn't dare blow too loudly.
Where every stone is etched with forgotten prophecies and stories lost to time.
And as the boy and Kael approach, the air around them seems to bend, like the temple itself is alive, aware.
Boy (whispering):
"Are you sure this is where we're supposed to be?"
Kael (stoic):
"The Oracle sees all things. Even the things that shouldn't be seen."
The boy can't help but feel a sense of dread creeping up his spine.
If the Oracle knows everything, then it knows him. All of him. Even the parts of him he doesn't understand.
---
[INT. TEMPLE ENTRANCE – THE HALL OF EYES]
A dark corridor, lined with statues that seem to watch.
Their eyes gleam in the torchlight, like they know secrets they're not telling.
The boy steps forward, every footfall echoing.
Kael's hand is on the hilt of his sword, ready for anything.
They reach the heart of the temple, a vast chamber with a single figure sitting at the center.
An old woman with blind eyes, draped in flowing robes that seem to shimmer with the passage of time.
Oracle (smiling knowingly):
"You've come for answers, child. But some answers, once given, are not so easily unwound."
Boy (uneasy):
"I don't know who I am."
Oracle (softly):
"Ah, but I know you."
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – "WHATEVER THIS IS"]
MC:
"This is it. We're at the moment. The big reveal. I feel it. I can almost taste the tension."
Author:
"You realize that this Oracle probably won't give us the answers we're looking for, right? I mean, she's always vague and cryptic."
MC (chuckling):
"Right, right. Because why wouldn't she be? It's an Oracle. If it was straightforward, it'd be too easy. I swear, I was this close to making her an internet meme."
Author:
"Don't. You've done enough damage already."
MC:
"Hey, I'm just trying to keep the readers entertained. What's your excuse?"
---
[INT. TEMPLE – THE EYE OF TRUTH]
The Oracle tilts her head, the dim light flickering around her. She's not looking at the boy with her eyes, but through him, as though she's already seen his past, his future, and every version of him that ever existed.
Oracle (calmly):
"You're not from here, are you? Not from this world. You're a thread woven into this tapestry, but you don't belong."
The boy's breath catches in his throat.
The Oracle knows.
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – COMMENTARY ZONE]
MC (grinning):
"See? Told you she'd know. I'm betting she can probably feel the 'plot armor' running through his veins."
Author:
"That's not how it works. Stop breaking the immersion."
MC:
"Immersion? This is a multiverse, not some low-budget indie flick. If she didn't know about him, I'd be disappointed."
Author (sighing):
"Fine. Let's just let her drop some dramatic prophecy. You know how these go."
---
[INT. TEMPLE – THE EYE OF TRUTH]
The Oracle slowly rises from her seated position, her gaze still locked on the boy.
Her voice, like a breeze passing through centuries, resonates deeply.
Oracle:
"You were never meant to remember.
The world that birthed you is locked in time, waiting for a key.
And that key... is you."
The boy blinks, his mind racing, trying to process the words.
But before he can speak, the Oracle continues.
Oracle:
"There's more.
You have questions. You want to know who you are. What you are.
But understand this:
You are a mirror. A reflection of a reality that could never have existed.
You are the culmination of every choice not yet made. Every path that could've been, and every fate that never was."
Boy (confused):
"So... I'm a mistake?"
Oracle (soft chuckle):
"No. You are the potential of all things.
You are what could have been."
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – GROUND LEVEL, STRUGGLING TO STAY RELEVANT]
MC:
"Well, that's cryptic. Guess we'll have to wait until Part 9 to figure out what 'the key' means."
Author:
"You've been here for five chapters now. Stop interrupting the flow of the prophecy."
MC:
"Flow? This is barely a drip. A word-soup of vague nonsense that will get re-explained in, like, four other arcs."
Author:
"You're the one who pushed for a 'big reveal' with no context."
---
[INT. TEMPLE – THE HALL OF MEMORIES]
The boy begins to feel a shift.
His thoughts twist. The world around him blurs.
The Oracle's voice grows quieter, fading away.
Oracle (whispering):
"Time is... a cycle. A loop. A web you are caught in... until you choose to break it."
The boy suddenly collapses. His eyes snap open, and he's not in the temple anymore.
He's somewhere else.
---
[EXT. UNKNOWN REALM – THE OUTSIDE OF THE MULTIVERSE]
He's standing in an open space, floating. There are no stars. No ground beneath him. Just empty space.
Boy (to himself):
"This... isn't real."
But it is.
Somewhere.
Somewhen.
A figure appears before him, masked and shrouded in shadow.
A voice he's heard before.
Masked Figure:
"You've been looking for answers, but the truth is...
there are no answers."
[EXT. UNKNOWN REALM – A SHATTERED LANDSCAPE]
The void begins to fracture around the boy.
The world that had once been static and oppressive now feels… unstable. Pieces of reality peel away like paper from a book, floating aimlessly in the empty space. The once comforting silence is now filled with distant echoes, as if the very fabric of this world is screaming in agony.
The boy blinks, and suddenly, his entire perspective shifts. He's no longer standing in the same spot, but instead, floating in a sea of distorted memories—his past, present, and future all blending together.
He reaches out to touch one, but his hand passes through it, like a dream slipping away upon waking.
Boy (gritting his teeth):
"This isn't real… This can't be real."
Masked Figure (voice ringing out):
"Reality is not a thing that can be understood in its entirety. You've seen the lies, and now… you'll see the truth. But remember, truth is often more destructive than the lies we cling to."
The boy's heart races. He feels like he's being torn apart from the inside, as if his very existence is being put to the test.
Boy (defiantly):
"I won't accept this. I refuse to let my life be dictated by some twisted version of truth. I won't let this be the end of me!"
Masked Figure (calmly):
"And yet, your resistance is part of the game. Your struggle, your defiance… they are all part of the larger design. Do you think you can break free from fate itself?"
The boy clenches his fists, ready to fight. But the world around him begins to shift again, a wave of instability swallowing him whole.
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – THE WRITER'S ROOM]
MC (grumbling to himself):
"Oh, come on! Not this again. Every time I think we're getting to something, we have to go deep again. Can't we just get to the part where I punch something?"
Author (muttering, typing away furiously):
"Trust me, I'm trying to keep it exciting. But the boy needs to struggle with his identity. It's important for his development."
MC (mock exasperation):
"Identity crisis? Seriously? Again? If I hear the word 'truth' one more time, I swear I'm going to break the fourth wall… wait, I can already do that. Ha!"
Author (snapping):
"If you break the fourth wall again, I'm writing you into an even worse situation."
MC (grinning):
"Go ahead, try me. I can handle it. You're just mad that your emotional arc is starting to get overshadowed by me."
Author (sighing deeply):
"Why do you always have to make this about you?"
---
[EXT. UNKNOWN REALM – A NEW WORLD]
Suddenly, everything changes.
The boy is no longer alone. The fractured void gives way to a new landscape—a strange, unfamiliar world that seems to pulse with energy. Massive floating islands drift in the sky, and swirling rivers of glowing light crisscross the horizon. Strange creatures hover in the air, their eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intelligence.
The boy takes a cautious step forward, his mind still reeling from the existential storm he's been through. He can feel the weight of the decisions he's yet to make, but there's something more pressing now: the world around him.
A voice echoes through the air, not from the masked figure, but from something… else.
Mysterious Voice (booming):
"Welcome, Traveler. You have crossed into a realm of chaos, a world forged by the very essence of your uncertainty. Here, you will learn what it means to face your true self. But beware, for what you find here may shatter you more completely than ever before."
Boy (to himself):
"Great. Another ominous voice. What is this, a tutorial world? Some kind of twisted training ground?"
The boy's eyes scan the horizon. A small group of people appears in the distance. They seem to be waiting for him. He senses that they know something he doesn't. That they're part of the mystery that surrounds this world.
But as the boy walks toward them, the ground beneath his feet begins to shake, and the sky above begins to darken. The air crackles with tension.
Mysterious Voice (again, more insistent):
"You are not the first to come here, and you will not be the last. Many have fallen before you. And many more will follow."
The boy's body stiffens, his instincts telling him that this isn't just a place for answers—it's a battleground. A place where everything he thought he knew will be tested to the extreme.
Boy (grimly):
"I don't care who's fallen. I'm not giving up."
---
[INT. AUTHOR VOID – THE WRITER'S ROOM]
MC (staring at the screen with a smirk):
"Oh, look! We're in another mysterious world. This is where things get really fun, huh? Not a single dull moment. Well, at least the action's coming up, I can feel it. Finally."
Author (typing rapidly):
"I'm not giving you all the answers. This is a world of chaos, of destruction, and rebirth. The boy needs to figure things out himself."
MC (snapping his fingers):
"Yeah, sure. But what if the boy figured out that he was just a side character in a bigger, more epic plot? Wouldn't that be wild? A self-aware protagonist discovering that he's just part of the Author's big plan?"
Author (grumbling):
"Stop breaking the fourth wall. It's not even funny anymore."
MC (laughing loudly):
"Oh, but it is! And you know it. The readers are loving it, aren't you? I mean, how could you not? You've got a meta-commentary genius right here."
Author (under his breath):
"I swear, I'll never write a character like you again."
---
[EXT. UNKNOWN REALM – A VILLAGE UNDER SIEGE]
The boy stares at the chaos unfolding before him. A village in the distance is under siege by monstrous, dark creatures that seem to appear out of nowhere. He can see the villagers struggling to defend themselves, their hopes fading as the creatures push forward with relentless force.
He can't just stand there. He can't ignore their pain.
Boy (thinking to himself):
"I've got no time to sit here and brood. If I'm going to survive this world, I need to act. I need to be someone."
He takes a deep breath and runs toward the village, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. For the first time since arriving in this chaotic world, he feels alive.