To Hell With the Author, Chapter 1: Agency Limit

I really thought dying would be painful, but in the end, I just lost consciousness for one last time and that was it. Of course, pain was still part of the ride.

But somehow, this is not where things end. First, I’m thrown into some kind of nowhere that feels much like water if I was made of sugar; I dissolve into nothingness and a moment later, I hear muffled voices. They become clearer by the second, and then, I open my eyes.

And my heart sinks.

A throne hall. Built from white stone, an emblem of a phoenix plastered on every pillar. Seven people stand next to me inside a red summoning circle, three mages having just finished the ritual to get us here. Heavily armed guards surround us, and a group of nobles and advisors stands gathered just about ten metres away. Among them, a woman with a shy and reluctant look on her face, who I recognise as the princess; her two brothers, wry smile on one of them, the other has a condescending frown. The queen, a beautiful and elegant face, but cold stare, and the king, grinning wide at the success of his plan.

You know how there is this genre where people get transmigrated into their favourite stories?

Well, it seems like that just happened to me. 

Except this isn’t my favourite story at all. It’s the story of the author I hate the most in the world.

The other summoned heroes start shouting and ducking in panic at their sudden change of surroundings. One screams. I recognise the protagonist quite quickly: Black bedhead hair, slim build, blue tracksuit — his name is Wallace, and he’s staring at the ground, probably internally monologuing his backstory. It’s how it started, after all.

It goes pretty much like this: Three of us received an amazing ability upon being summoned, one that would help avoid the prophesied Calamity and bring peace to the land. The other five, myself and Wallace included, received F-Rank abilities, and would be deemed worthless. And then, thrown out.

Of course, Wallace’s Class is secretly overpowered, and he’d ultimately get his revenge for being treated so poorly.

I can’t believe I actually ended up reading this. As a premise, it is very overdone, and to be quite honest, I should have known better than to get invested. Of course, I speak with the bitterness of hindsight, because there is something to love about this work of fiction. Something that made it all worth it, something that made me excited for every update.

A side character, introduced a few chapters in, and the strongest heroine in this world of fiction.

I fucking loved her.

And I don’t love characters easily. It really made the story special, because I had this one person I could relate to. So… maybe this isn’t all bad? Being put in this story, after pitifully dying to a chihuahua bite I was too stubborn to get myself treated for, at least I get to meet her in the afterlife. 

“Name?” I hear someone speak, and snap back into reality as one of the mages looks at me expectantly, holding a piece of paper. One by one, they are going through the other arrivals too.

“Lostina,” I say. I make it up on the spot. I don’t want any of the other Summoned ones to know that I’m from earth, so my real name is out of the question, and I do have experience in picking new names for myself. He notes it down, then asks me to put my hand on an instrument that proceeds to print out my character sheet. 

Yes, yes, F-Rank Class, of course. As expected. [Pretender], huh? I’ve never heard of it before, wasn’t in any of the data books released with the story. Fun. I guess I’ll have to figure some stuff out myself, instead of already knowing everything. That said, just from the sound of it, the Class kind of fits me. A pretender. I used to pretend a lot in my previous life, too.

“To the best of your personal opinion, would you describe yourself as a good person?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say.

 

You lied successfully! +5 EXP

 

Oh? I get experience for lying? That’s neat. Of course, there’s no way I’ll tell them the truth, because if I did, I’d be—

“No,” I hear a calm voice say behind me, answering the same question in conversation with another mage. I turn around and stare at the pitiful girl. 

Wrong answer. These people don’t want any bad heroes running through their lands. It’s that kind of story. 

She seems about twenty-five at most. Rather tired, curly brown hair, and goddamn, she’s tall. Even taller than I am. Freckled face, tired eyes, and she looks a bit lost, like a cute animal. Maybe a deer? Or perhaps a bunny.

But oh, those eyes aren’t just tired. They are goddamn deep! I’ve never seen eyes quite as grey and piercing and prideful, despite the empty look in them. It actually sends shivers down my spine.

I don’t even remember her from the original story. Should that be cause for concern? Well, probably not, judging by the fact that one of the guards approaches. I give her a sorry expression, and when she catches my gaze, her eyes are just blank.

Then, the guard strikes her from behind, down her back — followed by a stab through her heart. For a moment, her eyes widen and her muscles tense, but then she collapses.

A pool of blood forms under her.

Yep. That kind of story.

I turn my eyes away and I’m glad that this isn’t a very descriptive novel, because all things considered, this could have been worse. I steal a glance at the printout of her sheet.

She was a [Baker]? Talk about bad luck…. No chance of survival with that. Even the name the mage jotted down doesn't ring a bell at all. It’s a bit weird. I’m supposed to know stuff, and this is somewhat new.

I dare a single glance back at her and already regret it. Those piercing grey eyes, now dull and lifeless, the spark gone. Just a thing now. I watch the body be dragged off and try to forget about her as soon as she disappears from my view.

This really sucks. I hate the author. These people really think they can do anything to their characters… They get you to read their stuff, make a character you love and relate to so deeply, and then… they just kill them off for no reason. It’s probably not true for her, because she’s just here to set the tone — not like anyone knew her — but damn.

I don’t even get attached to characters easily, but every single time that I do, they just die. Written out of the story for whatever nonsense reason the author could come up with, and you’ll be lucky if you even get enough foreshadowing to drop the story before it’s too late.

Which wasn’t the case in this one.

Procrastinating the Apocalypse. A System novel with decent progression, and I’ve followed it for about two years. The author had a tendency to go on hiatus, but it was readable. That is, until they decided to kill off my favourite character of all time.

I’m drawn to strong characters, especially if they have a certain vibe.

And then, gone. Defeated off-screen in a huge mess of a chapter. Didn’t even get her own interlude, the main character just watched her die. The author probably realised that her existence broke the story because she was too strong. She would have handled the entire Calamity on her own. But I don’t care much for such excuses.

Like, don’t get me wrong, character deaths aren’t always bad. They can make stories interesting and engaging, and a bit of an emotional ride comes with being a reader after all. I do love getting my heart ripped out every now and then. But her death was just mean-spirited. It was just a kick in the face of everyone who liked her.

I dropped the story right then, but a few friends still kept me posted about what happened after. I had the tiniest bit of hope left that there would be a twist or something; that she didn’t really die, or that she’d be resurrected, and I was going to pick the book back up if it was true; but as time went by and the story ended, it turned out she really was just dead.

God, I can’t think about this without wanting to cry, or smash something. Without feeling a little sick in my stomach. It’s always the characters I like that die. Always the characters I relate to that meet a terrible demise.

It’s really getting old.

So, out of all the worlds I could have transmigrated to, it had to be this one? I had to be brought where I’d relive the memory of losing my most beloved character, off-screen for a cheap emotional blow to the reader? Gonell, the strongest character in this world of fiction. And seven months from now, she will suddenly be killed off.

No. Absolutely no way.

To hell with the author. I will make sure she lives, whatever it takes.

The scene around me progresses rather slowly — the King’s family has by now identified the most promising candidates, and started to chat them up, while the others, including me, are being pushed to the sidelines, still getting questioned until we provide an excuse to be offed. 

The author hasn’t made the calculations with me in the picture, though. I know everything that’s going to happen, I know the secrets of this world, I know how to level up quickly, and I am aware of the powers of every major character. So what if my Class is useless. These people will be dancing in the palm of my hand. I can take my revenge — on this world that allowed Gonell to die, on the people that caused her death, and on the author, by ruining this little story they worked so hard to create. Ha! 

Those years of leading the Gonell fan-community and writing 400,000 words of Gonell-themed fanfiction will pay off, because I know everything there is to know. Every single detail. And thus, the plan doesn’t take too long to form in my head. I answer a few more of the mage’s questions on autopilot, gaining a bit more experience because lying comes as easy as breathing to me. 

And then, I form in my head the perfect sentence to derail this nonsense plot line forever. Gonell dies because she’s trying to find and open the Lodestone, which will topple the Empire. I just have to topple it right now myself, and then she will never attempt to clear that dungeon, never face off that Messenger, and never lose.

“Anything else you have to say?” the mage finally asks, giving me the opportunity that I need.

And so, I inhale. I just need to say it, for everyone to know.

“This town is built from—”

 

ERROR.

Action restricted. Cannot deviate from original author outline.

 

I stare at the words for as long as I can, trying to comprehend what it’s saying.

I can’t say it. My lips just won’t part. Instead, in front of me, a red system message floats. I try again and again, even start retching. And then, I give up.

“No,” I eventually say.

 

You lied successfully! +5 EXP

 

I replay the error in my mind.

Cannot deviate from original author outline. For real? I’m forced to watch things play out until—

I don’t even want to finish this thought. Oh, this is awful.

I want to smash something, but I can’t. I want to scream, but I can’t. Error message stacks onto error message, until I clench my fist so hard it hurts, unseen by anyone.

God, I need to get out of here and stomp something to mush.

To hell with the author.