Rael stood in the middle of the library, frozen. The ink-stained floor pulsed beneath his boots. The once dormant book—black, ancient, and stitched with something far too flesh-like—lay open before him. Every word written on its pages now glistened with fresh blood, trickling into the margins as if the story itself were wounded.
He had read countless fantasy novels. But none of them had ever bled back.
The title etched across the open page pulsed again.
[The Book That Bled]
Rael took a step back, heart thudding. He wanted to close the book, to pretend none of this was real. But something deeper—a pull he couldn't name—kept him rooted to the spot.
"What… is this?" he whispered.
A voice answered.
Not aloud.
In his mind.
"You opened the wound. Now write the healing."
Rael turned sharply. No one. The library's flickering lamps cast long shadows across the endless shelves, making every bookshelf feel like a coffin waiting to close in. But he wasn't alone. Not anymore.
Behind him stood a boy no older than sixteen, in a torn school uniform. Blood smeared his collar. His eyes were hollow. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Rael recognized him.
Not as someone from his world, but as a character. A side character. A mere footnote from Chapter 3 in the original novel.
"No…" Rael breathed. "You died. You weren't supposed to come back."
The boy pointed at the book. And then, slowly, his mouth formed a single word.
"Rewrite."
Suddenly, the ground shook. The entire library groaned. Books tore themselves from the shelves, fluttering through the air like birds in a frenzy. Some snapped open mid-air and screamed. Pages caught fire. Others wept in silent agony.
And from the core of this literary storm came a whisper—low and reverent.
"The Reader is becoming the Writer."
Rael dropped to his knees as the knowledge surged through him. All the narrative threads, all the broken character arcs, all the forgotten plot holes… they were alive. And they were watching him.
His hand moved on its own. A pen, forged from glowing silver and dark glass, appeared between his fingers.
[New Trait Gained: Editor's Hand]You may rewrite the fate of one character per chapter. But beware: each rewrite demands a memory as payment.
Rael's eyes widened. "A memory…?"
Without warning, something snapped inside his mind. A name, once precious to him, vanished. He couldn't remember his mother's face anymore.
He screamed.
The price was real.
And so was the power.
But he didn't have time to mourn. From the shadows of the burning library, figures emerged—characters unspoken, broken, deleted. Some had been cut in the first drafts. Others were early prototypes of major villains, heroes, or even NPCs.
They crawled toward him, begging.
"Rewrite us.""Give us purpose.""Let us exist again…"
Rael stood, the pen trembling in his hand. He had always wondered what it felt like to control a story.
Now he knew.
It wasn't glory.It was godhood.And it came with a curse.
He stepped to the bleeding book and began to write.
Character Rewrite Log:
Name: Solen, the Mute BoyOriginal Fate: Killed in Chapter 3 during the Demon RaidNew Fate: Survived the raid, became the Keybearer of the Forgotten RealmCost: Memory of First Kiss
The ink bled red across the page, but Solen gasped—his eyes regaining life, his mouth parting to speak.
"…thank you."
Rael looked away.
This power… it was unbearable.
But he couldn't stop now. Every rewrite brought balance back to the broken world. Every fix brought him one step closer to unlocking the Final Ending.
Hours passed, or maybe days. Time had no meaning here.
Rael found himself walking between realms through narrative portals—paragraphs that opened like doors, dialogue that became bridges. Every place he stepped was an unwritten sentence, and every decision he made shifted the meta-fabric of the story.
Then came the worst realization.
There were other Rewriters.
Not readers. Not authors. But those who had reached the end of their own worlds and found the same Book That Bled.
And they were rewriting against him.
In the margins, ink scrawls not made by his hand fought his changes. Characters he had saved were once again erased. The balance was tipping.
A name appeared in blood-red across the top of the next page.
[Author Prime: Elias Van Kreed]
A chill ran down Rael's spine. Elias was a legend. The original creator of this world.
And now, he was coming back for control.
The battle wasn't just in the story anymore.
It was for the story.
And Rael?
He was no longer the Reader.
He was the Final Boss.
But he had one weapon Elias didn't expect:
Empathy.
Where Elias wrote for control, Rael wrote for redemption.
And somewhere in the library, the Final Chapter waited to be written.
But first—
He had to bleed the pen dry.