The Novel's Professor

In the barren, desolate land, a loud shout resounded—echoing within the area. The wind blew harshly as two eyes met one another. Perhaps once in the past they met and became friends. But alas, in the present—and with different bodies, an air of distrust lingered within Rio's pupils.

"You finally remembered. And here I thought you immediately forgot about me." The man said, an angelic smile gracing his lips.

"Wait...you're not him.." Rio exclaimed, his eyes widening. The man's face seemed to be illusionary, constantly being replacing a familiar face and an unfamiliar one... He could tell it was John Smith, but at the same time it wasn't. Two faces overlapped with each other. "..Or are you...?"

"I can assure you, it's me. I'm just in a different appearance, but it's still me... John Smith, your friend," The man in a priest outfit replied, emphasizing his last statement. "...The same could be said to you, however. It seemed you have certainly had a glow up."

"...Are we really friends, or so what you call it?" Rio said, his eyes closing. Perhaps it was the sense of death coming to him, but the memories of his past passed through his mind.

...John Smith was a good person. A good man. A good friend. The man was his only friend throughout his life. A friend—he thought he could put his trust in.

...Especially for a person like him, that was a special case. He rarely trusted people in his life. Hell, he didn't even trust himself. And yet, the man earned his trust. But that trust...

"Is that not so? I assure you, I mig—" John Smith furrowed his brows, confused.

"... I don't trust you. I don't trust you one bit. If I was able to move, I would have used everything to just pummel you beneath the ground." Rio said with a hint of anger. His hands weakly clenched itself.

Anger was an emotion that rarely came to him, but the moment it did come—it was like an slumbering volcano erupting from years of silence. The only thing restraining him from doing what he wanted was his half dead body.

"..What do you mean by that?" John Smith asked, the smile on his face never leaving. He stared above the sky, continuing. "But Rio...didn't you want this to happen?"

Rio opened his mouth, closing it after. He let go of his clenched hand. He let the man continue.

"I asked you once and I took your answer as a wish," John Smith said, his head shifted to Rio's eyes. "I granted it. I gave you another chance. I transported you to a magical like world. I gave you a way to find the answer you desperately sought for. Is this not what you wish for...?"

"...Perhaps I wanted this, or perhaps not," Rio said, his voice strained. He continued, silent rage filling his voice. "But… what's your aim here? You changed something within me..! You manipulated me to your bidding. You changed...my morals, you removed my...humanity... Not only that, you transported me into this novel—this world, and everything is somehow wrong. The plot. The characters. Everything. All wrong, and so is the knowledge of the novel. Why is everything not the same as the novel...? It feels like...a cruel death trap. So... what's your goal, John Smith?"

"What do you want?" Rio spat out, his fist clenching. "Tell me, John Smith... Even now, you have followed me to here. What is it that you want? My life? To use me as a tool? Tell me..!"

Rio panted, his breath slowly dwindling. Ah, he shouldn't have talked a lot... His body was dying. In a moment of emotion, he forgot he was on. He was dying.

...It was just hard. As much as an empty person he was, he still sought for a life of meaning. In his journey of searching for meaning, the concept of friendship was just as important.

Friendship was as rare as a perfectly crafted amethyst sculpture—among the thousands of people he had met and interacted with, only John was the one he could truly call a friend.

John Smith went silent, thinking deeply for a second. The ever-calming smile left his face. He spoke, "I think you're mistaken on something."

"Mistaken on what...?" Rio asked, his voice tired.

"Except for the mind changing part, everything." John Smith replied, his eyes staring deep into somewhere. "Even then, I changed your mind for the benefit and safety of yourself. Without it, you might die quickly. But as for everything else, you're heavily mistaken."

"...What?" Rio uttered, his voice shocked. He was not shocked by the man's admittance of the manipulation—but on the other part. In that moment, he felt an ominous sensation crawl on his skin.

"...I didn't change the plot. Everything should go exactly as the novel said. I didn't interfere with anything, that would be equal to asinity. The reason I transported you here after all is to grant your wish," John Smith said, his eyes shifting to Rio. "Also, I did not come here for you. I came here for the others... It was only a coincidence that you were here too. It seemed..."

"..Are you telling me something—someone or...what...manipulated the plot...?" Rio asked, chuckling in disbelief. Something or someone changed the plot of the novel? Impossible.

John Smith stared at somewhere. He lightly replied, "Perhaps, or perhaps not. Who knows?"

"Don't give me that...! You made the novel...You should know who can!" Rio said, his voice strained. "Or perhaps you transported other people, your readers!"

"...The novel.." John Smith muttered, his eyes nostalgic. It had been far, far too long since that time—the memories of the past had long faded in his journey. He continued, shaking his head. "...No. I didn't transport any other people here. In fact, I only transported you here because you wished so yourself...and I treat you as a friend."

Rio went silent, processing the words he had heard. It sounded almost impossible yet...the man admitted otherwise. Something, or someone...was controlling everything behind the scenes, manipulating the events of the plot. And neither did he nor John Smith knew who it was.

...He had also noticed that the first plot happened earlier than the novel—and coincidentally, the plot started when he was venturing outside to train himself. It was almost as if... the person was specifically targeting him. In that moment, his body shuddered—imaging two eyes staring at him from somewhere.

He could feel a loosened thread tie into his body, connecting itself to the whole world. And above the world, two hands grasped it—pupeetering everything.

...He was going to die anyway, not that he cared about it. Rio raised his head, staring into John. "So... why are you here?"

"I told you, didn't I? I came here because of the two kids," John Smith answered, a smile gracing his smile. "I didn't even expect you to be in the forest. I was surprised when I felt the kids life force slowly dwindled. It was merely a coincidence we met here."

"...Is that so." Rio muttered, his eyes losing consciousness. Ah, he could already feel it—his death coming to him, reach to him. His eyes turned blurry. Before he died, he asked. "John Smith, what's your goal...?"

"... It's to save this world," John Smith answered, his lips widening as almost maddened smile took over his face. His hand grasped over a beating heart, "And that's why, you can't die yet."

—He grasped the heart tightly, exploding it into pieces.

Drip—!

Drops of dark red blood dropped onto Rio's face. His eyes were too blurry to realize of the implications—before he turned unconscious, he felt his heart slowly beat.

"...I guess I should cover that up too," John Smith lightly said, his hand raising. He softly commanded, "[Camouflage]."

In that moment, the corrupted energy within Rio started to blur. It slowly vanished, turning invisible. John Smith shook his head, if only he could remove it or replace it. But unfortunately, the corrupted energy was too integrated within his friend's body.

Suddenly, loud whirring sounds echoed on the sky. John Smith raised his head, staring at the helicopters hovering above. It seems the media was here... It was time for him to go.

Before he left, he glanced at Rio one last time. John Smith muttered, "Perhaps you may have forgotten, my friend. But you are the editor of the novel...the consequences of your changes would come at you. Are you prepared for it?"

John Smith went silent, his eyes shifting to another direction. "...Only your actions would tell. Your decisions on the upcoming future are vital... It would decide whether you're better off dead than alive."

The whirring sounds of the helicopter came close, several figures stood from the vehicle. Their eyes widening seeing two bodies beneath. "Over here!"

In that instant, John Smith vanished from the area.

—

In a dark room, a figure stood, their hand brushing over the window. They looked at the beyond the world, sighing.

"So..Archbishop of Greed has died. It was a pity, he was such a promising talent after all. But then again, he was also too much of a risk. His sole existence could cause the future to change greatly, so it's better he died and at least contributed to something..."

The figure suddenly smirked, their lips curling upwards. "For example—in this risky gamble, it confirmed a lot of things. It seems 'He' really is willing to even appear...even if as an avatar to save 'His' own 'creation'. It was disappointing the kids didn't die, but I didn't expect much from it anyway... For what's it worth, I already have a grasp towards 'His' weakness."

Though, the most surprising things was...

"...What I didn't expect the most was 'His' decision to sabotage Salem. 'He' even let him be demonized and almost broken beyond repair, not only that, 'He' also let him faced the Archbishop of Greed. Is Salem's existence so unimportant for 'Him' to almost leave him to die...? Or is it the opposite that he's so important that 'He' let things enveloped, knowing he will live?"

The figure contemplated... Nonetheless, everything would be answered in time. It was only ten years before the destined apocalypse. Everything would come into place at that time.

The figure suddenly shook their head, their hand held over the telephone, calling a certain number.

"...Envy, did Sloth successfully capture the Primordial Dragon?"

A vague voice replied from "Yes, Supreme Pontiff...Sloth has entrapped the Primordial Dragon. It was a tough battle but with the help of Pride, we were able to capture it... We are ready for your command sir."

"Ah very good. The Primordial Dragon of Earth would help us assault the barrier of the Elven Realm." The figure praised. It was finally time he could move on from merely conquering normal worlds. "..We would start our conquest on the Major Worlds. Simply conquering subworlds, Type-A & Type-B would do nothing."

The voice from the telephone agreed. "I also think so Pontiff, we are just waiting for your orders now."

"Very well, prepare everything at once. Cease all activity you're all currently doing. We're going to lay down for a while." The figure dropped the call as they stared at the walls.

The Earthern Dragon... It was an important component on this plan. They had used its power to accelerate the cracks of the dimensional reality, and the moment when the demon world descends to the whole Harrowing Lands, they would capture the Primordial Earth Dragon. They had succeeded.

...But the most unexpected variable was The Combatant's appearance.

"...Hm, hm. It seems 'He's' as cunning always, or should I say...as expected? 'He' used a borrowed hand to deal with the Dragon. 'He' used the kingdom's Council, even fooling The Wizard from thinking it was an opportunity for The Combatant to improve. Not only 'He' barely did get damaged, but 'He' also weakened the Council's forces.."

"Very impressive." The figure muttered, their head shaking. "I even went all out—disregarding the fixed, destined future. It was a huge risk on possibly shifting the plot... In that moment, 'He' also could have discovered my identity—but alas, 'He' focused more on 'His' creations. This is why...desires reign supreme."