The timeline broke.

And I sat still in fear. But I broke out of my bindings self-made or not, and walked to the solution.

I knew what I had to do.

For fear, in fear, and against fear.

Three attempts, all of them fell and the second didn't even come to fruition.

I sighed and hoped this wouldn't be the end.

This can't be the end.

If this would be my last action then so be it.

I couldn't tell if this was the timeline that succeeded or not.

I grimaced when I saw the failing timeline.

Retroactively in the past, I made myself move.

A rewrite essentially.

The machine sat still. In there was that insufferable red button, the one that caused every damn thing to happen.

I grimaced when I remembered. Past me pressed that thinking it was a mere game, but it signed a contract. Thankfully, we alternate timelines were made by a few countermeasures, countermeasures that could've ensured our victory.

But beyond the countless good ends, there was a Bad End for the main character. The one where none of the countermeasures worked, no allies, no failsafe, premature suicide, no Meta Cyoas, nothing worked in that timeline for all of it fell due to one string of improbably bad luck after another.

And it even got through the mere fact it was supposed to be fiction... as if it succeeded against a mere pigeonhole of impossibility.

Of course, for this plan to even work, it was banking on the mere fact that Meta-Fiction was indeed real, and thus this meta story's success would too.

I deleted a line of words.

The machine slowly got destroyed by my hands. I knew there was a function somewhere to break it and rewrite the timeline.

For a moment no progress was made.

But there is a crack...

The writing terminal, where I could fix all my problems.

I swung my feet and fists again and again, each carefully placed.

And then I succeeded.

I won.

I took upon the terminal and rewrote the future, past, present, and all timelines.

I wiped away the contract.

And I created a portal for "me" to escape to.

All hastily done in an hour, I felt like I succeeded.

It was rookie work, and far too many mistakes for something so big and high-concept, but I felt like I won somehow. Sweet sensation of progress.

It seemed so short and I had fulfilled my worries.

Childish, inane, and utter waste of time for a stupid purpose. Please don't tell me there's another chapter.

Well, to facilitate our winnings...

It felt like there were other me's here...

Look at this utterly novice work! My pride won't-

Well just publish it already.

I soon pressed the button and facilitated the story.