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Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Chapter 72 Chapter 73 Chapter 74 Chapter 75 Chapter 76 Chapter 77 Chapter 78 Chapter 79 Chapter 80 Chapter 81 Chapter 82 Chapter 83 Chapter 84 Chapter 85 Chapter 86 Chapter 87 Chapter 88 Chapter 89 Chapter 90 Chapter 91 Chapter 92 Chapter 93 Chapter 94 Chapter 95 Chapter 96 Chapter 97 Chapter 98 Chapter 99 END

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Chapter 90

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"Zero."

His eyes quickly opened after the old geezer finally said the last counter, leaving him in the empty void of darkness that surrounds him. This place is lifeless; not a single soul or sound can be heard around except his own breathing and thoughts.

Where the hell am I? How did he do this? There were so many things to ponder, and none of them made any sense at all. This place isn't anywhere on earth; he knew it deep down. This is somewhere else, and it makes him nervous. The blackness around him is nothing short of unsettling; it gives him goosebumps even though there is nothing here at all.

It feels like he's floating in outer space despite still being able to breathe normally; it's weird and eerie in this place, like he's being studied by something he isn't capable of understanding or comprehending. It is not just darkness but also a feeling of something unnatural and inhuman lurking around.

"Turn around," the author spoke in the boy's mind, "what you see here is beyond normal apprehension." The statement made Adam's blood run cold as he turned around slowly, resulting in seeing the most incomprehensible thing he had ever witnessed in his entire lifetime.

Floating in front of him from several meters away is inconceivable, massive, and tiny at the same time; it is like a microscopic creature that is comparable to an elephant but on a microscopic scale. However, the creature he was looking at was unlike anything that existed in this universe; it was something entirely different.

In view of the animated geometric shape of fluorescent and illuminating colors in multiple patterns, it is seemingly impossible for a normal man or woman to even comprehend something like this. In fact, any ordinary Joe would break their mind and soul altogether just by looking at it.

The appearance is so difficult to process, but the fact that he is still able to look at it without going insane is an achievement in itself. An overwhelming feeling of both awe and horror is surging through his entire body; this is something that shouldn't be here.

"The Narrative Generation," a sudden voice spoke at the young man's side, causing him to quickly turn and see the elderly man floating at his side, staring directly at the mysterious thing before them. "This entity is more powerful than any of the gods combined and is the source of stories; the story of God, the story of the universe, the story of everything," the old man continued with a chuckle.

"What even is this thing?" Adam couldn't believe his own eyes; his brain was telling him to run, but his feet wouldn't move and his legs felt numb. It feels like a hand of darkness is holding him down, while the sight before him is enough to send him into a fit of panic: "How in hell could I even explain this in a full sentence?"

The author sighs with a smile, responding calmly, "You can't." A simple and direct reply follows: "To you, The Narrative Generation is akin to a virus that infects you and spreads across your body through your imagination. However, instead of being harmful, this machine is beneficial in keeping everything going. The way he explains this thing is as if the old man were talking to a child that is learning basic things.

He almost choke from hearing something like this: "Is this God?" Adam won't admit it, but he is intimidated and afraid of this thing as he speaks in a low tone, trying not to let his voice crack, making sure the thing before him doesn't hear or see him, as the mere thought of that is terrifying to think of.

"More than God," the geezer spoke in cryptic fashion, "this machine is more powerful than any god or entity that existed throughout the history of all. Everything comes from here—every story, every world, every concept, every person—and it's all coming from this thing, which is responsible for controlling and changing the way reality works. Without it, there is no story to progress further."

This is too much. Adam can feel the urge to vomit right now as he stares at this thing. From the information he got, "This machine is responsible for everyone who was born or ever lived and died, correct?" His eyes can't break away from it; it's like his body is glued to the spot.

"Indeed, but not just people, animals, plants, trees, insects, or even fictional characters, this machine is the reason why everything is the way it is and ever was," the elder man said with a shrug as if this were a normal thing to see for him. "Your existence is also a story to this virus as well."

Adam refused to believe this, seeing it perhaps as an illusion or maybe a deity messing with him; either way, he wants information, all of it. "Tell me everything you know," the young man's voice sounds so serious, more serious than ever before, as he makes eye contact with the old man, "now."

Then he told everything about what this thing is and what it is capable of doing; the old geezer explained to Adam why people, aliens, and other creatures exist, the purpose of life itself, and everything he could understand, helping the poor boy process this existential answer.

The Narrative Generation, also known as The Creative Engine, is a collection of various stories and realities that exist within the author's database. This machine, which is discovered by God and the author, has the ability to connect to worlds that have been created by the author and vice versa. These worlds are not limited to the ones that we know of but can also extend to other realms beyond our perception. As the computer interacts with these worlds, it captures and compiles various narratives that the author can further develop into complete stories.

The stories that arise from the Narrative Generation can span from the concise and straightforward to the grandiose and intricate. They are imbued with the experiences and imagination of the author and inspired by the worlds that are within reach of the Creative Engine. This never-ending anthology is constantly evolving, growing, and expanding as the author delves deeper into the connections that the machine has with the divine.

Stepping outside the bounds of the void is akin to standing on a pristine sheet of paper, where the surrounding environment is an immaculate white canvas. However, upon closer examination of the ground, one would soon realize that every two-dimensionally drawn picture of a respective world exists, with the Narrative Generation continuously producing an ever-expanding anthology of them.

The Narrative Generation, a mechanical entity that transcends the bounds of mere logic and reason, serves as a conduit for the author's imagination, allowing for the interconnection of worlds both known and unknown. It transforms the author's computer into a canvas, where the pristine white space becomes a gateway to an infinite array of two-dimensional worlds, each with their own unique narrative waiting to be discovered.

An enigmatic mechanical entity that defies mere logic and reason is more akin to a virus than a creation of the author. It has invaded the author's computer, beyond the reach of both him and God. Irrespective of this, the elusive concept of divinity, subtly lurking within, acts as a mysterious parasite, weaving tales of unexplored worlds and undiscovered stories that remain unknown and hidden, waiting to be unearthed.

Commonly referred to as a virus, remains enshrouded in mystery. It operates through seemingly mathematical means, yet the true nature of its actions remains incomprehensible. This is largely due to the elusiveness of its origin, which defies both logical and rational explanation. Its presence is both unnerving and intriguing, evoking a sense of strangeness at the unfathomable depths of its power and influence.

To this end, it is responsible for guiding the characters into the path of their own stories, whether they are aware of it or not, as nature itself is stranger than the laws that govern it while also holding the entire story and its people in its own manipulation.

After hearing all of this, he threw up in the unending darkness below, almost fainting from his own puke. His body couldn't handle the shock and trauma of realizing this newfound knowledge. He is not alone in this world, and something much bigger than he could imagine is watching over him.

Deep down, he wants to deny all of this, but the old man's words hold the truth. What he heard and experienced is too real to be a dream, for it feels so real that if it is, then there must be another world out there beyond his perception, and the people he sees in the world are, in fact, fictional.

Even if that were the case, so what?

He is still here, alive, and moving according to his own will; the very fabric of this world he lives in is tangible and real for him, to the point that his reality is far more complex and complicated than what it seems, but no matter how long he ponders on his thoughts, he always comes up with no solution to his predicament.

"I need a breather," he says while breathing heavily of this truth, gripping the beating chest of his own heart. His entire world that he believed in is false. "Indeed. All of this is overwhelming, is it not?" The old man nodded as if he understood his thoughts, but then continued on, "The question is, will you change your way of life knowing this?"

Does it even matter if his world is simply a simulation or something like that?

Everything he does, the people he meets or betrays, and the actions he chooses are real to him, and that is what matters most. "Part of me still sees this as bullshit, but if what you are saying is true, then no, nothing has changed except meeting with you."

The author was a little taken aback by this, expecting someone would be shaken by his revelation. "Why is that, if I may ask?" The old man asked out of curiosity, almost eager for the response to be given, as this is not a normal response in a situation like this.

"Because even if this world is fictional, so what? It doesn't remove the truth that my world is real to me and that nothing you said changes the fact of how I live my life in hellish place I call home," Adam explained as he looked away from the old man, unable to meet his gaze because of his own doubts, but with this response, he was quite satisfied with it.

"Well said, my boy," he said, while smiling widely before giving a bow of appreciation. "Truly, you have been the first one to make me smile like this. I am grateful to meet you, Adam. Thank you. This is perhaps why I liked you out of all the characters I wrote about or observed." A sincere tone of voice can be heard coming from the old man as the young man can see his honest eyes.

"How so?" Said the curious young man, "I don't see myself as an icon or superhero that deserves admiration from strangers. I'm just a flawed person who wants to live life by his own terms, to be free and happy from this mad world I call home," not feeling the type to be honored with words like these.

"And you are, indeed. Adam. Because you represent the freedom and value of liberty in itself—the desire to be free from the shackles of oppression and live a life of one's own choice while continuing to struggle against the forces that throw at you. Bad and good, you've done both, but what makes you unique is how human you are."

His words were kind, but they only served to make Adam feel guiltier about the choices he had made. He'd used and betrayed his allies, ran away rather than helping those who were in need, and even though he claims that he doesn't give shit, deep down, the young man does care a little bit.

"So what?" Sighing with guilt, the young man said with a shameful voice, "Where will this lead me after learning all of this?" Questioning his old man for having to endure such a long and mind-blowing conversation between them.

A smile reached the author's lips: "Would you wish to control your own story, son?" He asked in earnest, "To be the main protagonist of your own tale where you can control events around you?" The old man suggested, in a tone of hope, that he would help this unique character.

He always wanted to control his own story, to be in control of his life; a feeling of uncertainty overwhelmed him: "What if I make things worse than they already are?" That alone is concerning, to say the least, especially since he has no idea how this process is going to affect him.

"It's your life, son, but I must warn you; once you gain this gift, me, God and the machine here will be forever unable to control or protect your existence; is this really what you want?" Never has he been expecting something like this to happen, but interesting things are bound to happen, even if causality itself is unaware of this new development.

"I do."