I relish the chaos I’ve stirred up. Everyone’s standing there slack-jawed as the guards suddenly start brawling out of nowhere. The one I tweaked is throwing punches like his life depends on it, dropping the other to the ground before hamring away at his crotch. I can almost feel the poor bastard’s pain. Oof.
But you know what? I kind of like it. If nothing else, it proves just how powerful my quill really is. I could have anything I wanted... I shake my head. Nobody died and made king—only the author. Still, there’s no point in losing myself to every passing desire. It’s no fun if everything’s just handed to on a silver platter.
I’ll use this more carefully. But for assholes like them? No rcy.
"Co on, let’s get inside while we have the chance." I grab Roxy and Powder by the arms and pull them along through the thick gate.
The mont we step in, a wave of stench slams into like a physical blow. It’s thick and humid, clinging to the back of my throat—an ugly mix of manure, rotting vegetables, and the sour musk of unwashed bodies baked under the sun. My nose wrinkles on instinct, and I swear I can taste the filth in the air.
I glance down and spot horse droppings scattered across the cobblestones, mashed flat in so places, still steaming in others. Flies swarm lazily over the piles, their buzzing adding to the city’s miserable soundtrack. A few ragged workers are half-heartedly sweeping with frayed brooms, but their sluggish movents say loud and clear: "I don’t get paid enough for this."
The buildings along the main street look ancient, leaning as if they’re one strong breeze away from collapsing. Cracks spiderweb through the stone, and so walls are missing entirely, leaving dark gaps where the wind whistles through. People move through the streets with hollow eyes and hunched shoulders, every step weighed down by exhaustion.
Vendors call out from warped, splintering stalls, their voices hoarse and lifeless. They’re selling at and vegetables, but the mont my gaze lands on a slab of beef writhing with pale larvae, my stomach churns. Yeah... I’d sooner eat my own boots.
Suddenly, the system screen lights up:
[You have a new comnt from a new reader, UNKNOWN4U: {Gods? Dragons? Many of us don’t even have a car (sothing used to travel)}]
Oh—welco! Glad you decided to join the fun. Also... what’s a "car," exactly? It sounds fun. Could you describe it to ? If I know what it looks like, I could whip one up with my quill and take it for a spin.
That reminds ... do you readers have any suggestions for what I should whip up with my quill? I was thinking of crafting armor for Powder and Roxy myself. Give your best designs—go wild.
[Would you like to trigger another reader quest?]
The system suddenly booms in my ear with the voice of Big Boss, rattling my brain.
You don’t have to shout! Just because you can’t show yourself doesn’t an I can’t read your damn ssages!
...
And yes... fine... please... it sounds fun. I sigh.
[New Reader Quest Activated: Suggest armor creations Quill could create for his team and himself, including detailed descriptions on how to make them. (Duration: two weeks) Reward: Five bonus Chapters.]
"Are you okay, Quill?" Roxy leans in, her shoulder brushing against my arm. She’s very close—too close. Her fingers start gently tapping against mine. What is she doing? I narrow my eyes.
"I’m fine—just lost in thought..." I answer casually, edging a little to the side. A second later, I feel her body press into mine again. Seriously... give so space...
"Are we there yet?" Powder suddenly nudges from the other side, and I stumble straight into Roxy, my arm wrapping instinctively around her waist. Her face flares red in an instant, while Powder casually drifts off to the side, hands laced behind his head, whistling like he’s on a peaceful stroll—eyes conveniently "searching" for the Adventurer’s Guild.
I almost add another two months to his punishnt right then and there... but I rember ObservantReader’s comnt from this morning. He seed pretty traumatized by my last punishnt on Powder.
[Comnt from ObeservantReader: {it’s not harmful but that is DIABOLICAL, poor Powder is getting castrated 😭😭 remind again to never ss with a literal god that can shape the make up of my existence, losing my little brother without even knowing why is TERRIFYING}]
Sorry, sorry—it’s not as bad as you’re imagining.
I ease my arm away from Roxy and step forward, putting a little distance between us. Ahead, a tall building rises over the worn street, its facade marked by bold, weathered letters that read: "ARCANA’S ADVENTURER’S GUILD."
"Look! We’re here!" My pulse kicks into overdrive, thudding in my chest. I’ve dread of this mont for as long as I can rember.
I dash ahead like an overexcited kid, nearly colliding with a young man in my path.
"Sorry," I mutter without slowing, weaving around him as Powder and Roxy hurry to keep up. My pulse is racing by the ti I reach the massive wooden doors, and with one push, they swing open.
The scent of sweat and dried blood hits instantly, heavy and tallic in the air. The room buzzes with life—adventurers talking in tight circles, laughing, boasting, showing off their weapons. Others crowd around a towering board plastered with papers, scanning for quests worth their ti. The sheer energy of the place sends a thrill down my spine.
"This place is amazing," Powder and Roxy say at the sa ti, their voices almost blending. I glance back to see them wearing identical knowing grins.
"Go on, leader," Roxy teases, her voice warm but expectant. "You’re the one who has to register us."
"Yeah, go ahead, boss. We’ve got your back," Powder adds, giving a not-so-gentle shove forward with his big hands.
"W-wait—! I said wait!" I laugh, barely containing my excitent as we approach the counter.
Two people stand there side by side—a boy and a girl, looking so similar they might be twins, and certainly no older than sixteen.
"Welco to Arcana’s Adventurer’s Guild, travelers," they say in perfect sync. "Would you like to take on a quest, or, if you’re new, would you like to register with our establishnt?"
They’re striking—each with one light-green eye and one pale-blue eye, frad by hair as white as fresh snow. Their beauty catches so off guard that I almost forget why I’m here.
"Yeah... hello," I say, my voice coming out a bit awkward, but they don’t look down on for it. That small kindness boosts my confidence. "We’re here to register as adventurers. And our party na is Rewrite."
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