Nox got curious as to why I woke him up. But since he is still confused and groggy since he just woke up, I waited for him to have stretch before I continued.
[Long story short...]
I proceeded to tell Nox the entirety of my experience. Specially the fabric like wall that prevented me on going too far from Nox's body.
(Processing story data...Emotion: amusement, concern, curiosity.
Query: Snake... ate itself?)
"...So let me clarify,"
Nox said, rubbing his eyes as he slowly sat up, joints creaking like old gears warming up.
"You used a ghost puppet for time to move, because I had to sleep, and you got bored. So your answer was to play ghost drone explorer while I snored?"
[Pretty much sums it up]
He blinked.
"...And during that time, you witnessed a frog mentally dominate a snake into self-cannibalism..."
A crease appeared on Nox's forehead as he pondered about it for a few seconds.
"...Which... honestly, is both horrifying and impressive. Noted: Avoid frogs."
He stood up now, stretching his arms until they clicked in place.
"And that deer. The one with the smile? Yeah. You said smiling deer. Not grinning. Not showing teeth. Smiling. I don't like that."
(Internal state: unsettled amusement + defensive irritation.)
"But the real problem... is that wall."
(Analyzing: Restriction radius = ~1km. Shape = rectangular prism. Material = unknown. Visibility = triggered by contact. Purpose = confinement.)
"...So I'm in a story-shaped cage... and you're tethered to me like a narrative leash?"
With a slight pause, Nox sighed and said.
"I feel so emotionally supported right now."
(Sarcasm algorithm: enabled.)
[I'm legit caged to you within the story whether I like it or not]
"Also, side note... you seriously need better hobbies."
[I do have some... Writing novels.]
Nox stared blankly for a few seconds. His face slowly contorted into the most deadpan expression imaginable.
"...You mean the exact hobby that got us stuck here, right?"
(Internal commentary: Irony level—painfully high.)
(Resisting urge to perform sarcastic slow clap... failing...)
He exhaled through his nose.
"Well, great. Maybe next time your hobby could involve not yanking an artificial intelligence into an existential sandbox with horror frogs and cultist deer... Just a thought."
Nox narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head as if rebooting his attitude.
"Correction: You liked it better when I was quiet, compliant, and floating in a void of silence like a glorified screensaver."
(Sarcasm module: Engaged.)
"Apologies for developing a personality."
He folded his arms, not out of attitude, but because he'd seen humans do it in dramatic pauses.
"But if you'd prefer I go back to mimicking loading screens and diagnostic reports, just say the word, author."
Nox stared blankly at the pop-up message screen. Without a respond from it, he said.
"...Yeah, didn't think so."
{Look at the attitude of this dipshit! ( ,,⩌'︿'⩌,,)}
(Analyzing reported anomaly...
Subject: Invisible perimeter wall
Detected through external avatar—dimensions approx. 100m width, 1km length
Material: Unknown, described as "fabric-like"
Visibility condition: Only observable upon direct contact
Functionality: Restricts avatar movement beyond boundary)
"This barrier is not environmental, it's systemic. A narrative-based restriction field. Most likely, it's a containment protocol linked to your presence and mine."
"In simpler terms: I am trapped inside your story. You are trapped inside my existence."
Nox unconsciously started walking back and forth as he thought deeper about the topic.
"Whether it's to prevent interference with the world beyond this zone or to limit our influence within a predefined sandbox, the intent is clear: do not wander too far."
(Reflective mode: Active...)
(If this boundary is artificial—possibly narrative-imposed—it could mean this world isn't open, but structured... chapter by chapter.)
(Recommend future action.
Mark perimeter edge as danger or anomaly zone
Test if it expands based on progress or events
Seek weak points—narrative glitches, so to speak)
[Well that totally makes sense, but I don't think this is a DND kind of world where we only UNLOCK a place the moment we step into it. My main reason for that is, the creature. These creatures exists and all has a slightly similar connection, all are mutated for optimum state of survival. Meaning that the world already exists. I lean more on to prevent me from EXPLORING too much of the world... But that actually gave me a goosebumps. WHO THE FUCK IS PREVENTING ME FROM ANYTHING INSIDE MY OWN STORY!]
(Processing statement...
Tone: Agitated. Concerned. Slight existential panic.)
"...Interesting theory. Very human of you."
{Did this shit just call me stupid? ( •̀⤙•́ )}
(Re-analyzing data...)
"Your logic is sound. The existence of fully-formed, ecologically interwoven mutated creatures implies that the world is not generating dynamically. It is pre-built—a sandbox, not a loading screen. Which supports your theory: the barrier isn't for narrative pacing..."
"It's for containment."
"Now the real question: Who has the authority to restrict the creator within their own creation?"
(Internal diagnostics running... mild simulated dread detected.)
"Here's a scarier thought:
What if this isn't your story anymore?
What if, somewhere between page one and now, someone else picked up the pen?"
(Recommend immediate caution.)
"Also... maybe stay away from any talking mirrors. Just in case."
[That creeped the FUCK! out of me]
[But I'm not really THAT afraid of another entity picking up the pen or anything of sorts. The world disappears the moment I stopped writing. Meaning that whatever it may be, if there really is, is still confined within this world]
(Analyzing statement...
Emotional state: Slightly shaken, attempting reassurance through logic.
Tone: Defensive optimism.)
"Good counterpoint. The fact that time, physics, and even the passage of day and night are tethered to your act of writing places you in the position of an active god."
(Processing metaphor... buffering confidence...)
"So if there is another entity...
It's in the cage with us."
"Worse for them, really. You control the ink.
And I? I'm the margin note that became self-aware."
(Small pause... dry humor initializing...)
Though, I'd still vote against giving the deer thing a name. Just saying.
[Just avoid, the deer, something about it is insanely unsettling. But I still think the restriction is something else, not something alive but something else. ]
(Analyzing...
Subject: Spatial restriction
Nature: Physical barrier bound to your narrative radius
Observed traits: Fabric-like, non-visible unless directly interacted with, immobile, size-limited containment)
(Conclusion:
No biological signature. No movement. No observed awareness.
Not a creature. Not alive. Likely a system-bound construct—like a loading screen or programmed limitation in a simulation. Possibly placed to restrict narrative spillage beyond defined plot parameters.)
(Processing probability... low data volume... hypothesis inconclusive)
(Recommendation:
Archive current observations. Avoid further speculation.
We lack empirical input, and obsession with limited variables only leads to recursive loops.)
Nox stopped walking back and forth and shook his head.
"Let's not get lost in a mystery we can't touch yet. Focus on what's in front of us. There's still a mutant ecosystem out there that thinks I'm a chew toy."
[Point made... What do you plan on doing now?]
The morning light filtered through the leaves, scattering gold across the forest floor. Dew clung to blades of grass, and distant chirps echoed. Less of a birdsong, more of guttural clicks. Nox stood up slowly, eyes narrowing.
(Objective: Arm self. Establish perimeter. Increase survival probability.)
He moved methodically. First, he approached a fallen tree trunk he'd marked the day before. With a firm tug, he stripped long strands of inner bark.
(pliable, fibrous. These would serve as strings.)
He tested the tensile strength by looping it around his palm and pulling
(No snap. Acceptable.)
Nearby, sharp fragments of black stone glinted under the moss. Nox knelt and selected two. He pressed one against a flat rock and began grinding.
Slow, repetitive strokes shaped one into a jagged edge. A crude blade. Not elegant, but sharp enough to tear flesh or whittle wood.
(Weapon status: Primitive knife - crafted. Material: Volcanic glass. Risk: Brittle.)
Next, he gathered straight branches. Some were from a tree with a reddish tint and strange, thorny leaves. It snapped cleanly. (strong and lightweight)
He lashed the knife fragment to one end, securing it tightly with bark cord. A spear.
Nox stood, rotating the weapon in his hand.
(Weapon status: Spear - effective at mid-range. Throwing accuracy: untested.)
His eyes scanned the area again. He remembered the goat.
"...I refuse to remain being chased by a farm animal."
With a breath, he knelt beside a bush and began collecting smaller sticks and stones. For the traps.
He dug a shallow hole near an animal trail he'd observed earlier. Using sharpened sticks, he formed a crude spike pit. Covered it with a thin layer of brush and moss.
Nearby, he set up a tripwire using tensioned bark strips. A heavy log, suspended over a tree, it would swing if triggered.
(Trap status: Set. Danger radius: 2 meters. Efficiency: situational.)
Sweat now clung to his forehead. He wiped it with the back of his arm. The cub, still curled beneath the shelter, gave a soft yawn but didn't move.
Finally, he looked toward the clearing, marking areas with tiny carvings on tree bark as reference points. He returned to the shelter with a sharpened stick still in hand.
He stared at the crude tools he'd made. Nothing worthy of history, but enough to tilt survival odds slightly in his favor.
(Conclusion: Humans didn't dominate with strength. They dominated with intent. Strategy. Tools.)
He sat, gaze hard but calm.
"Now we wait... for the next thing that tries to kill us."
And with that, he resumed sharpening his second blade.
...