The page turned on its own.
Not by wind. Not by choice. But by force.
Aeren stumbled as the ground beneath him shifted, changing color and texture like an unstable painting. One second it was stone. The next, paper. Then, it blinked into smooth crystal. Every few seconds, everything around him rewrote—as if reality itself couldn't decide what version to stick with.
He'd entered the Glitch Realm.
A forbidden zone that existed between chapters, where abandoned plots, deleted timelines, and failed protagonists floated like echoes in the void. Every corner of this place whispered of choices unmade, endings unwritten, and consequences that had never been allowed to fully bloom.
And in the middle of it all stood a single figure.
A man.
No, not a man—something above characters, above roles.
He wore a long coat made of literal paragraphs, stitched together from every story Aeren had ever read. His skin shimmered with ink. His eyes glowed gold, like punctuation marks on fire.
The Author.
The true source of The Eternal Cycle. The one who created this world. The one who started it all.
"You've gone too far," the Author said softly, his voice layered with a dozen tones—young and old, gentle and cruel. "You were supposed to be the Final Boss. A test. An obstacle. A tragic symbol of what happens when someone tries to fight fate."
Aeren didn't flinch. "And yet here I am. Still writing."
The Author took a step forward. With every movement, entire realms blinked into existence and collapsed behind him—like he was dragging a multiverse with every footstep.
"You've rewritten too much. Altered timelines. Brought back forgotten characters. Merged power systems. Ignored arcs."
"They were broken!" Aeren snapped. "You abandoned them."
"They were unfinished," the Author corrected. "Not broken. They weren't meant to be seen."
Aeren raised the Quill of Correction, which now pulsed with energy far beyond what it had once held. This wasn't just a weapon anymore. It was a key. A tool that could unlock chapters never meant to exist.
"You made me the Final Boss," Aeren said. "But I became the Reader again. And I became something you never planned."
The Author narrowed his glowing eyes. "Then let's settle this with what you love most."
The Glitch Realm exploded with light.
Suddenly, they stood in a massive arena—half library, half battlefield. Floating pages swirled in the sky. Swords forged from dialogue clanged in the distance. Above them hovered a massive book titled The Final Draft.
"This is the Rewrite Protocol," the Author declared. "A one-on-one story duel. You write. I write. The strongest version becomes canon."
Aeren felt the weight settle on him. This was it.
Reader vs. Author.
Whoever won would shape the story's reality forever.
Round One: Genre Manipulation
The Author lifted his hand, and a burst of light turned the battlefield into a cultivation sect, filled with mountains, jade towers, and ancient beasts.
"Classic setting," he smirked. "Let's see if you can keep up."
Aeren laughed. "Please. I binge-read five hundred chapters of this in one weekend."
He snapped his fingers—and suddenly, the MC trope flipped. The young genius the Author summoned? His golden aura shattered. His cheat system? Deactivated. His destined fiancée? Ran off with a demon.
The crowd of cultivators vanished in smoke.
The Author looked annoyed. "Fine. Your turn."
Aeren concentrated. The realm shifted again—now they stood inside a cyberpunk city, full of neon rain and glowing skies. Aeren typed code into the air, summoning an AI ally named Naru who launched a virus into the Author's creation, crashing his plot points mid-sentence.
Lines of text in the air began to fizzle and break.
The Author growled. "Cute. Let's try tragedy."
Round Two: Emotional Control
The Author summoned an old friend from Aeren's past—Lys, the warrior girl who had once saved him. But this Lys wasn't the same. Her eyes were blank. Her memories… rewritten.
She walked toward Aeren like a puppet.
"She no longer remembers you," the Author whispered. "What will you do? Fight her? Free her? Or… hesitate?"
Aeren flinched. This wasn't fair.
"Lys…"
She raised her sword, eyes distant. "Who are you? Why do I feel like I knew you?"
Pain lanced through Aeren's chest. This wasn't a battle anymore. It was a test. A cruel one.
He closed his eyes.
And wrote a single line in the air: "Lys remembers."
The light in her eyes returned.
She blinked—then screamed, turning her blade on the Author instead.
"Traitor," she growled. "You erased me!"
The Author backed away, shocked.
Aeren held his quill steady. "You underestimate the bond between character and reader."
Round Three: Truth Unleashed
The sky cracked.
The Final Draft hovered above, vibrating. It was nearly full. Just a few more pages, and the canon would be locked.
The Author snapped. "You were a reader. You don't know what it's like to create. To build something from nothing. You only consume!"
Aeren's voice was calm. "And yet I'm still here. Because your story? It left too many holes. You abandoned your world. I didn't."
"You can't win!"
"I already did," Aeren said, stepping into the air. "Because I care more about these characters than you ever did."
He raised the quill.
And wrote the line that ended it all:
"The Author stepped back—not because he lost, but because he finally understood."
The Author froze.
The arena faded.
The book titled The Final Draft closed.
—
A quiet, endless sky.
A new page.
Aeren stood alone. The quill now floated beside him, no longer pulsing with power. It didn't need to.
He had won.
Not through destruction.
But through understanding.
By caring.
By rewriting pain into hope. Abandonment into purpose. Villainy into growth.
A soft voice spoke inside him.
"Would you like to write the next chapter?"
Aeren took a breath.
Smiled.
And began again.