I Became a Nobody in My Favourite Novel-Chapter 1: “Thrown into a Doomed World”

Ethan closed the book slowly, his fingers were moving over the ripped edge of God's Final Requiem. His eyes were stuck on the last line of the page and kept re-reading it. And again, and again, refusing to believe what he'd just read.

And thus, the hero died. His body was broken. His will was broken. The world also met the same fate, it was burned and got turned into the ashes by the wrath of the outer gods.

He was dripping from his eyebrows. His lips started twisting in the disbelief

"That's it?" he said, voice cracked. "That's how it all ends?"

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He sat back, blinking as if a new line might get summoned there, a line where he hoped the ending would change.

It can't be right. Not after everything that happened till now.

This wasn't how a legend was supposed to end. Not in silence. Not in defeat. Not in despair.

A hollow pain flowered in his chest, the sort that left him with the sensation of someone had reached in and taken out all of his feelings. For years, this tale had been his priority. Each page, each turn, each moment of fear and awe, he had lived it truly. He had celebrated their triumphs as if they were his own. He had cried for their deaths as if they were alive.

Hadn't been merely a book. It had been a life for him, his everything. He felt complete when he read that book. But now?

Now it was all finished and with the worst ending possible.

He glared at the cover, his heart starting to pound as if it couldn't bear the silence. God's Final Requiem wasn't a dime-store novel where the hero is dragged on through chance and various favorable outcomes. It had heft. It had anguish. It had honesty. Every move forward left wounds on them. Every battle counted. Nothing was ever easy. Nothing was ever pure.

And now?

Now it had all come to ash.

The hero was lost and met his end. The world was broken and now there was no life left in God's Final Requiem. The Outer Gods had triumphed, and the world had been converted into ashes.

All the blood was spread. All the sacrifices which were made by people, All the hope, it was for nothing.

His hand tightened on the book, his knuckles started becoming pale, his fingers trembling as he tightened his jaw. He said angrily:

"This is crap," he snarled. "There had to be another way. There had to be."

He dropped into the chair, his shoulders heavy with everything that he couldn't say. He stared up at the ceiling as if it might have the answers. But it was just a plain, motionless ceiling.

What was the point?

What was the point of resisting, of holding on, of perishing, if in the end, nothing was different? If the darkness still won?

His voice was barely more than a whisper, a breath against the storm building inside him.

"If I were in that world... I wouldn't let it end like this. I'd make it better."

He didn't mean for those words to carry the weight.

But they did.

And the world listened.

The air shifted. It Thickened. It felt like the world was cracking under all that pressure, just like a breaking glass.

The room became heavily suspicious as if the walls were all holding their breath. Shadows flinched at the edge of his eyesight. The ceiling started to ripple; it started bending and curling into something other.

"What the hell is going on?"

The book dropped from his grasp, the pages were trembling as if they were afraid before the book landed on the floor with a gentle thud.

Then

Pitch black Darkness.