Chapter 3: 02 | chaos; and so it begins

[this is a story only i remember]

——xxx——

There was no time to react as the ground under their feet soften, turning into layers of crinkled paper with millions of tiny words scratched across the pages. Nora's eyes widened as she jerked her head in panic towards Lucas.

The paper tore, splitting in the middle as the terrible sound echoed in the area and they were tumbling down.

Only darkness consumed.

Lucas could hear screams, muffled by the layers of pitch that separate him from all others; he could hear the mutters and feel the fear that radiates in tumbling waves.

He closed his eyes and allowed the pressure of the wind to glide against his body in violent bursts.

The tale of Cinderella. It wasn't a Story he remembered writing, but he had written so many across the pages that it was hard to recall them all.

If he couldn't remember, then it wasn't a large-scale Story and should be of low risk.

He breathed steadily and quickly recalled the information of his novel from the years. An apocalypse, the end of the world setting. A calamity that ended in disaster, after years and years of struggle.

There was a sharp pain that sliced past his cheek, and he scowled. He was likely reaching the end of this fall soon.

Quick. Think.

Remember all that there was to know.

A world in which humans turned into Characters and had to survive through Stories in order to continue, in order to persist. He had read many novels where humans had turned into [Players] and had to complete [Games] or [Dungeons] to survive.

In essence, the world he created wasn't too different.

After completing the tasks of the Story and reaching the final ending, one would be given a reward and, in some cases, depending on their performance, a Title.

A Title gave the owner rights to access their own innate ability and certain benefits, depending. For example, if he gained the title of [Cinderella] it was likely that no other creatures related, such as [Prince Charming] or [Fairy Godmother], could kill him anymore.

However, if a creature such as [The Evil Stepmother] who possessed malicious intent to his character wanted to kill him, then they would be able to.

He sighed in discomfort as another cut ran along his leg; the violent winds were too strong for him to ignore anymore.

In other words, all he had to do was reach the ending. After that, he could organize the current state of affairs as slowly and leisurely as he wants.

A light enveloped him from underneath, and he squinted, covering his face as it blinded him. The surrounding sounds had already disappeared as he was dropped into a paper screen. He slammed into it, ripping the thin material as he tumbled down.

He opened his eyes and was greeted by soft, luxurious bedding and a room that was beyond fancy, to the point Lucas thought it was over dramatic. 

His limbs were tangled in the covers as he gazed around.

There was nothing worth noting.

<Hahaha...!>

Laughter rung in his ears and he leans back, frowning as he stared ahead cautiously.

Tellers. An existence similar to the big bosses in a game—they were the ones who control the Story.

The giggles continued maniacally, as if it hadn't laughed in years. Perhaps it really didn't.

The wide smile from earlier flashed before Lucas's mind, and he wasn't sure if that was the doing of the Teller, or his own mind playing unnecessary memories. He glanced around the room, landing on a box of tissues.

<The wonderful tale of Cinderella had begun. The aim was fairly~ obvious, but I'll explain it to you anyway. Reach the lovely, happy ending that I've prepared for you! That's all!>

Lucas, while grabbing the box, muttered under his breath, "Terrible explanation."

The voice started again, as if hearing his complaints.

<I see some of you are unsatisfied with my explanation. I really forgot how stupid you all are~ hmm~ well, find as many glass slippers as you can. The aim is to find as many glass slippers as you can! I've repeated it twice, do you understand now?>

<I have unfortunate news too! I, the real Cinderella, will not be playing! Lucky you. Sigh... I want to play next time. For now, there was nothing I could do to you, such as... killing, murdering, eating... mmm...>

Lucas was fairly certain that this Cinderella was drooling right now, wherever they were.

He felt a little disgusted. Pulling out two white, feathery pieces, he rolled it up casually and shoved it in his ear until he couldn't hear anything around him.

<...you idiots should be aware that I'm speaking in your head, so you couldn't pretend not to hear me! Ahem.>

Well, it was worth a shot.

<Anyway~ there was not really a time limit, but I don't want to wait too long so I'll say five days! Now, now, I can see you frowning. You are all given a [Title] free of charge! Only temporarily, of course. Each comes with benefits. For example:>

The man felt as if there was something staring at him with a wicked grin.

<The Prince can explore any areas in the kingdom, while a Commoner can only see certain places. You must absolutely follow your character role! That isn't to say a Commoner can't sneak into the palace, but... hehe, the consequences of being caught, you can imagine it? And we need our darling characters, to keep the story going~!>

<It is a very easy story to complete. There are even two ways of clearance! One is the method I told to you, and the other... nope, I'm not feeling that nice! If you still fail despite it being so, so~ easy...>

There was the sound of smacking lips, and an eager, starved laugh.

<Now, bye bye~ see you soon! Cinderella will be watching you, always!>

Any traces of the voice faded away from Lucas' mind immediately, as if an annoying thing that was poking him had been snatched away suddenly.

He probed around in his mind for some clues and, moments later, a map dropped before him. It unraveled over his legs, and he saw a blur of colours. Similar to a heat-map, with different colours.

There was a brief line of text at the bottom that he needs to squint to read.

'The map of finding lost things! The closer you are, the darker the colour will be!' It read, scratched out in messy writing. 'Ah, but no glass slippers exist around the castle in the start! How could the prince see his bride so easily?'

There was also an additional smiley face after the comment, happily smiling at him.

He frowned, poking it roughly, feeling as if it was done on purpose.

He'd already figured out the title that had unfortunately been stuck to him—it wasn't hard considering the scene that surrounds him. But this 'Prince' title seems to have more like drawbacks than benefits.

Of course, his terrible luck would give him such a role in this Story.

After calmly cursing the Story out, he stepped out of the bed.

A thin, white fabric loosely draped over him, most likely the prince's nightwear.

He regretted making it so that the Story followed things so throughly, with things like clothes and roles. As he moved, the weight of the loose cloth flowing carefully with him, he decided it was not entirely uncomfortable and actually made him want to sleep.

Then again, this troublesome matter started because of his novel itself, so nitpicking the details he disliked did little.

Better to curse out the entire world. Because, he found, complaining was addicting regardless of how pointless it may be.

He needed to explore the town first, where the majority of the heat signals were located. Lucas sighed, glancing down at his clothing before looking around for clothes to change into—this, while comfortable, was definitely not suitable.

Not to mention the slices along his skin that seemed to have stopped bleeding since he landed, but continued to throb with a phantom pain.

"Master," said a low voice, a hint of elegance. A knock rapped on the door firmly. "I've come to dress you."

Lucas stopped, staring at the closed door.

There were no other clothes in his room, and it seemed that he must follow the character properly in order to proceed. Only, was the person at the door another Character, or an NPC? There was nobody around, and to kill in the Story was way too easy to do.

"Come in."

The door creaked open.

In strolled a man in arrogant step, wearing a neat suit with clothes folded over one arm.  He watched Lucas with scrutinizing cerulean eyes, a chilling stare mixing with amusement and caution.

Oblivion hair, a colour deeper than black in the sense of overwhelming power it held, hanging loosely over a sharp jaw. Not too long, not too short.

He lifted his gaze, boring into Lucas.

Lucas knew the instant the man walked in—this person was another Character like him.

However, a mask covered most of his face, so Lucas couldn't make out the other's identity. It was easy for him to remember one's appearance, but he first needed their entire visual to mark it down in memory.

"My clothes." Lucas held out a hand, waiting.

The man smiled jokingly. "Don't you need my help to dress yourself, Prince?"

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"Absolutely not. You could leave, in fact."

"I can't."

The door shut, and the man leaned against the door leisurely, still holding the clothes in his arms.

"I have to play my 'role' given to me. I couldn't leave until my 'Master' had finished dressing." He explained, stretching out an arm to hold the clothes. "So I apologize, but I'll have to remain here until you're done."

Lucas didn't really care, grabbing the clothes and smoothly slipping the pants under the night gown, before lifting up his shirt.

The man didn't seem to feel uncomfortable or shy either, instead glancing around the room and observing every piece of furniture. Occasionally, his glance grazed Lucas, but it moved just as quickly, indifferent.

When Lucas was finished, the man spoke again. "Are you heading to town? It seems like the map shows most of them in that general area."

"I am, but you're not coming with me." Lucas was quick to reject the other before the man asked—he had a feeling that he would.

"Trust me, I'm not a fan of the idea either." remarked the stranger with a sigh, offering a lopsided smile. "I didn't make this system, nor did I enter this Story by choice. There's only one method to reach the town—through your carriage. I'll be going my own way once we arrive."

"Are you trying to win the Story?"

The man laughed, voice a low timber, raising an eyebrow. "I'm trying to do a lot of things, but that certainly isn't one of them."

Lucas reluctantly agreed, allowing the man to lead them both to the carriage. He remained in the corner, peering out the window with curiosity while the man does the same, taking in his surroundings.

The stranger sat with an odd sort of casual elegance, however those two contradicting words could interact.

This was a death game.

Of the two of them, it was likely only one will be alive by the end of this. Perhaps killed by each  other's hand, unknowingly or knowingly.

There were only enemies that surrounded.

Neither spoke, a mutual understanding already presented.

The carriage came to a stop before long, and they both exited.

"Well dear prince," said the man slowly, carelessly with no genuine care in his tone. "Enjoy your little adventure."

They shared a careless glance, before turning in the opposite directions and continuing on their own path. The town was carefully constructed, entirely realistic with the moss that ran long over the edge of old stone, and the clamour of citizens.

In the middle of the bustling streets where stalls are set up, and voices crowd, he stopped. A shiver crawled up his spine, even under the fake sun's warmth.

Something was watching him.

Peering in a corner, following his every move.

He imagined a person crouching down, hidden under the stalls or in the windows, carefully staring at him with large, unblinking eyes. He glanced around calmly, a hand resting in his pocket, but there was nobody around.

It could be anybody in this hustle of people. There was nothing he could do except keep walking, and wait for the eyes to reveal themselves.

Strangely, all the citizens were incredibly obedient, and didn't meet his eyes. There was a sense of unease laid over them, draped in fine silk. Almost robotic, inhumane.

And whenever he looked away, he felt a dozen pairs of eyes creeping at him.

Opening the map, dark red pulsed near him.

There was a slipper around, somewhere among these tables. He moved, the cloak that was draped over him moving along with him, stopping by each table. Finally, he turned into an alley, wondering if perhaps it was more hidden than he expected.

Tap, tap.

The sound of footsteps.

They grew faster, closer before they are rushing down the alley and blocking the light. Lucas reacted quickly as they lunge at him, dodging to the side before slamming his fist up, feeling it connect with a soft stomach.

The man groaned, cursing as Lucas flipped him over, slamming him to the stone ground.

He pressed on their arm with a knee, calmly gazing at them. "What do you want?"

A weak Character. The man struggled violently, flailing around as he huffs, pain in his body. "L-let go of me, bastard!"

Lucas pressed harder into the arm, feeling the bone press against his knee. Any more pressure and he was sure he could snap it, break it. Or at the very least, give a pain so bad that the man wouldn't be able to move for hours.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop! Please! I'm sorry, argh!" Screaming, he begged and pleaded as tears foolishly ran down his face. Lucas loosened the pressure, waiting expectantly.

"I-I, everybody has a Side-story. If a Character kills the prince, or Cinderella  we can steal their role! We can take their power, while also keeping our... our own!"

"Did I look like I was an easy target?" wondered Lucas, feeling somewhat offended.

In fact, how did they know where he was to begin with, when he was hiding under a cloak? How did they know his role? Since he was wondering, he asked that very question.

"I don't know! I, well, um, somebody told me! They, they whispered into my ear as I was walking that it was you! And.. And honestly." The man squeezed his eyes closed, shaking. "You do look handsome!"

"...want to say that again?"

"No!"

"....." Lucas took a deep breath in, speechless. What sort of nonsense was this man speaking? "Do I look stupid to you?"

"No! No, no I'm telling the truth!"

Lucas frowned, narrowing his eyes as the person squirmed under his weight.

He didn't remember the story of Cinderella; it wasn't a major Story in the novel he wrote. It was only briefly mentioned to be one of the rare Stories that's objective isn't related to death, nor does the consequence of failing lead to punishment.

And yet, it was one that had the largest amount of death recorded.

"Was the voice that spoke to you male or female?"

"Female!"

"Young? Old?"

"Young!"

Did that voice belong to the pair of eyes following him everywhere he goes? He didn't know, and there was still no way for him to find out. As he thought that, a giggle sounded around the corner and he snapped his head in the direction, staring deeply at the blank streets.

There was nobody there.

Lucas scowled, frustrated. In fact, the temporary titles given out weren't limited. Although the roles of Cinderella and the prince may be obvious, there are many, many possible titles.

The baker's daughter. A citizen. Perhaps even a thief or a beggar.

The damn title really was more of a curse than a blessing. He scowled at the skies once again about his bad luck, before glancing down at the man who lies helplessly, pressing against the ground.

Collecting the glass slippers was his priority—the sooner he left, the sooner he could finish the task.

Because Lucas Silvius realized something.

A thing so important and essential, he needed to fix it. He crushed his knee down, grinding the bone until it snapped and the man let out a loud, gutted scream that filled the air.

It didn't matter when nobody would care, no allies would avenge him.

Everybody was alone in the populated reality.

He dropped a last glance before walking off calmly. To prove that he wasn't to be messed with, a minor scene had to be made. He strolled away quickly, hastily looking around again for the glass slippers.

The hero of his story fell to death before the arrogant throne.

If his story had come to life, that meant the protagonist was well and existing. Lucas wasn't one to worry, typically, when that man was powerful enough to survive on his own.

Incredible and full of justice, a quiet hero that lurked in the shadows and held out a hand to the helpless and the weak.

He knew that saviour well—too well. Because the particular man was inspired by somebody who marked their existence in Lucas' mind, a long time ago.

Kane Silvius.

His older brother.