Whether You Call Me a Guardian Dragon or Not, I'm Going to Sleep - Chapter 85: Creating a Hero (5)

Irene Pareira is a boy who sleeps to run away from reality.

The book he wrote wasn't some ordinary book, nor was he an ordinary person. He holds the ability to see the future unknowingly and writes it down as great stories.

Little did he know, he would wake up in a different body in a world where he finds out the characters in his book…A world of magic, swords and monsters.

'Wait, this isn't a world from my novel. It's a real world and the novel is just my prediction of some people just like the guardian said. So I will just enjoy the show as an audience and leave after the story ends. I have a whole new world to discover in front of me.'

But what awaits him was something he could never imagine. In front of the world, in front of the whole universe, his assumption was just a grind of sand. The truth of the world made him rethink his life and the life he lived back in another world.

Viktor North, the author, finds himself in the middle of the whole universe where he was nothing but an extra later in his life as he kept living. An extra who was abandoned by his mother, his brother who was an elemental guardian and also a demigod, his race and the God.

'But I prefer to sleep than going against these unwanted people and unwanted problems. I want to sleep. I just want to shut my eyes and sleep under my warm blanket, probably forever if it's possible.'

This is the story of an author, a grand magician, a guardian who somehow became a god and the only thing he could think of was sleep.

He is the definition of what a 'Shut-in' is.

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The smell of blood invaded my nostrils. I watched helplessly as the woman standing over me raised her sword. I was completely drained, I had no mana left, no items, nothing. As the crimson tendrils held me down by my arms and legs, all I could do was wait for my death.

As the sword drew near, I felt the last bit of courage I had disappear. I was going to die. Alone. In this god forsaken place filled with evil. And for what? To protect those ‘friends’? The same people who mocked me, took advantage of, and used me?

Oh, who am I trying to fool? I was here only because of my own greed. Because I wanted to be useful to someone. Because I wanted to that group to need me. To value me. To have a reason to keep me around. How naïve I was, thinking that power would grant those wishes. All it did was help build a wall between me and everyone else.

The sword approached. I saw the purple light reflect off the sword’s blade. After everything I went through, I hadn’t expected my death to be by the hands of another player. I saw her smile, but this time I didn’t think it was beautiful. It was an ugly smile because it was genuine. She was enjoying watching me die. She was enjoying killing me.

The sword struck my chest and pierced my heart. I let out a scream of pain and agony. The pain was so real, all of this was so real. It shouldn’t be, but it was. What should have been a simple game had become my new reality – all of our new reality. A reality filled with magic, war, blood, and death.

My vision darkened as the pain slowly faded. I felt the last of my vitality leave my body. It felt cold. I wondered to myself, when would I stop being? When would my thoughts disappear?

Soon, I saw those words I feared for all this time appear before me. “DEATH”, in the pale blue font the game always used. They remained suspended in the air for several seconds. It was over. After a long time of fighting, grinding, and exploring, it was finally over. I had died. This was the end of my story.

Suddenly, words before me shifted and changed into something different. I took a shallow breath as I heard a faint heartbeat.

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What does it feel like when you have a best-selling detective fiction author for a boyfriend?

Whenever you offend him, he would look at you disdainfully, “A character molded after you could only ever appear in my novel as a deceased victim.”

Whenever you seriously offend him, he would threaten you, “The very next victim who dies in my novel would be named after you.”

Whenever you seriously, seriously offend him, he would add on to the previous threats, “Furthermore, the victim would have died at the hands of an extremely perverse and twisted serial killer, and would have suffered an extremely painful and terrible death.”

But, by a stroke of coincidence, if you happen to be this best-selling author’s editor, he need not resort to the above mentioned tactics. In fact, all he has to do is one, single thing –
-Delay the submission of his draft.

- Description from Novelupdates