[System rebooting at 100%]

 [story synthesising at 59.9%]

🎶 “Hold tight, it’s a meteor ride. One taste, and I’m electrified. Sparks rain down in stereo. 네 목소리가 내 우주야…” (Your voice is my universe) The speaker boomed, shaking the shelves until dust drifted down in lazy spirals. The faint smell of old paper and ink filled the air, mixing with the bitter tang of Diana’s coffee.

“Once upon a time,” Alita started.

“No, that is not where we start today. Our audience needs something more fun — it’s been months, you know,” replied Diana, her fingers brushing against the crackling pages of the script as she sipped.

“Black coffee again?” Alita questioned, wings buzzing like impatient moths.

“Yes. We have long weeks to go. We are protagonists after all,” Diana declared, puffing out her chest.

“No thanks to the author, man. It’s been weeks, you know! Being protagonists is such hard work,” Alita muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The library seemed to listen. Shadows stretched across the walls, long and crooked, as if trying to escape the books. A draft whispered through the aisles, though no window was open.

Now, let’s pause for a moment. Where did we last leave off? Ah, yes, this was the point… Turn on the TV, we need to continue the story.

[System ready to go 100%]

[System now delving into the story]

 [ERROR! ERROR! SYSTEM GLITCH SPOTTED]

Alita panicked. “Wait, no! We don’t want to work — we’re not ready!”

The TV hissed, static crawling across the screen like ants. Then, with a violent pull, it sucked them in. On the screen, a woman appeared: Ariadne Van. Her voice cut through the static, sharp and commanding. “This is no time for sipping coffee. We have work to do… a life to write.”

The protagonists vanished into the screen. The script fell to the ground, its pages fluttering until one of them opened. The air smelled suddenly of smoke, acrid and biting.

“The serpent whispers as shadows call, yet it is unity that will break this thrall. The key to Heaven’s gate is near. When realms unite, the path ahead will be clear.”

Then came a low hum. Deep, resonant, omnipresent. It vibrated through the shelves, rattled the chandeliers, and seemed to pulse inside their bones.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Author intoned, each word heavy with inevitability. “Our story is just beginning.”

The script burst into a blue flame, its light flickering against the walls, casting ghostly shapes that danced and twisted. When the fire died, only a message remained: “It’s time to watch Black Butler Season Two… and Black Clover.”

The library door slammed open. Raymond rushed in, shivering, his breath fogging in the sudden chill. “Who let the ghost out of his grave?” he muttered, eyes darting around.

The chandeliers swayed, though no wind blew. The smell of burnt paper clung to the air, mixing with the bitter scent of Diana’s abandoned coffee. A single book dropped from the highest shelf, landing with a thud that echoed like a drumroll.

Raymond jumped. “Okay, that’s not funny. Who’s running special effects in here?” He tiptoed forward, whispering to himself. “If this is a ghost, at least let it bake. I could use a croissant.”

Another book fell. He yelped. “Alright, alright! Haunted library, fine. But seriously — buy five croissants, get one free! Even the undead should appreciate that deal!”

He looked around, realised Diana and Alita were gone, and sighed. “Figures. They get sucked into a TV, and I’m stuck negotiating with shadows. Typical.”

Raymond shook his head, muttering as he left. “If the Author’s watching, at least give me a snack break. Omnipotence should come with catering. I didn’t even get to tell Diana about the prophecy; Through sacrifice, their bond will endure, and dawn will rise to illuminate the way. ”

15 years earlier…

The world stretched wide, a canvas of mystery and light. But shadows crept closer.

“Gasp—hhhhh—gasp! Run, Diana! Don’t look back!” Tammy urged, his hands locked around mine as we darted through the city’s labyrinth of alleys. The night air was cool, each breath a plume of vapour. Pat-pat-pat-pat! Our feet hammered the cobblestones, echoing like drums.

“Brother… I can’t… I can’t run anymore!” I cried, sweat streaking down my face.

“We can’t stop now! I promised to keep you alive—I won’t let them take you!” His voice was fierce, his body weaving through narrow passages as he glanced back. Behind us, the mob surged like a tide. Clang-clang! Pitchforks struck against stone, thud-thud! Boots pounding closer.

We burst into a clearing at the city’s edge. Voices echoed: Don’t cross the boundary. But there was no time to hesitate. I clutched his hand tighter as we sprinted toward the bridge, dust rising beneath our feet.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Our hearts pounded in unison.

“There! Don’t let the sacrifice escape!” the chief roared, torch in one hand, pitchfork in the other. The villagers’ frenzy grew—eyes wild, chants fevered.

“Capture the Holy Maiden! Sacrifice her to the gods! Seize the child bride!”

Goosebumps erupted across my skin. Terror knotted in my stomach.

Then—whssshhh—thk-pshhht! An arrow sliced the air, striking Tammy’s hand with a sickening crack! Blood sprayed in jagged arcs.

Silence.

He froze, eyes wide, as if the world itself had stopped. Then he staggered, knees buckling, and collapsed. His body convulsed, foam spilling from his lips, each breath a broken gasp that seemed too fragile to exist.

“Tammy!” My scream tore through the night. Don’t fall asleep, Tammy! Don’t leave me here alone! Foam spilt, flickering, fading fast. The bridge loomed—sixteen meters high, the river below roaring like thunder.

They call it sacrifice, but I call it murder. How could they demand this of me? How could they call it holy? His sea-glass eyes dimmed, lips bruised blue, each breath a broken prayer.

I ripped my dress with my teeth—rrrip!—pressing cloth against the wound, tears streaming hot down my cheeks. My hands moved in frantic rhythm, thump-thump-thump! Pressing his chest the way he had taught me. His cold fingers brushed my face, his fading gaze locking onto mine.

“Live… don’t die here. See the world… taste every cake you desire. And remember—when the skies weep blood and flame, two souls as one shall rise. One, dark with golden eyes of fire; the other, crowned in gold, noble of heart…”

His words faltered as cold hands seized my shoulders. Mr Wagu loomed above, his smile unsettling.

“Don’t believe his lies,” he hissed. “The ritual is painless. Do it for your family, for the city. Your parents’ sacrifice must not be in vain.”

Mrs Wagu’s eerie smile followed: “You’ll end the plague. Prosperity will return.”

Others chimed in, voices pressing, suffocating.

“You’re the only one who can do this. Do it for little Tibolt—two years of life, they said. Two years, stolen from mine.”

My voice caught in my throat. Tammy’s weak hand was kicked aside—thwack! —by the crowd. Hands reached for me. Grab-grab! Panic surged.

I ran—not forward, but over the bridge, plunging into the sixteen-meter drop. Screams echoed—Aaaahhh!—as I felt like a broken kite. Tammy’s lifeless eyes reflected my descent, a single tear slipping free.

Silence. Wind whipped against my face—whoosh! The roar of the river grew louder—crash! I locked my arms, praying the water would consume me whole.

The impact was brutal—SPLASH! —like stone shattering my body. The current spun me, dragging me into blackness. Freezing water clawed at my lungs. I sank deeper, vision fading.

Then—a voice rose from the depths. Do you want to live?

It was human, yet otherworldly. My body felt heavy, numb, leaden. A light formed—a silhouette mirroring mine, reaching out. Tears—or blood—slid down my cheek.

“I… I want to live,” I whispered in my heart.

“Then so be it. Live eternally, mortal being.”

Energy surged. Whoosh! Water expelled from my lungs. Memories—mine, not mine—rushed through me. Voices echoed.

And then… silence.

I opened my eyes. Light flooded my vision. The scent of flowers and damp soil surrounded me.

Rustle-rustle. Leaves whispered in the breeze. Chirp-chirp! Birds sang overhead, their voices sharp and sweet. Buzz-buzz-buzz! Insects danced between blossoms, wings shimmering like glass.

Munch… munch… munch. A deer grazed nearby, its jaw grinding rhythmically, ears flicking at the faintest sound. A fox darted past, paws scritch-scritch against the earth, its tail a flame of red. Butterflies spiralled upward, wings flutter-flutter-flutter in a kaleidoscope of colour.

I rose slowly, surrounded by oak and pine, a meadow of blossoms stretching endlessly. The air was thick with fragrance—wild honey, crushed grass, damp moss. My fingertips brushed petals soft as silk, while the ground beneath me pulsed with hidden life.

My heart thudded—thump-thump-thump—not with fear, but with awe.

“Run, resist, remember.” The words echoed in my mind, louder now, like hoofbeats pounding across the earth.

“Where… where am I?” I whispered, though the forest itself seemed to answer in chorus—rustle, chirp, buzz, flutter, thump, caw.