[The next round shall commence in:]
[12:51:11]
There I was standing a few steps away from the Fleming’s graveyard.
And yet, I could not enter.
A group of hooded individuals were digging up the graves of each tomb with shovels and the like.
I was about to come nearer, thinking they were cultivating the land or whatnot, when I noticed what they were really doing:
They were taking the bodies, dragging them in duffle bags.
I had an urge to call them out, but I did not need to be in another mess just because I couldn’t mind my own business.
—He says he wants to remain lonesome and yet always butts in on other people’s problems.
The words of the Narrator, who seemed to be the one who butts in on other people’s problems, reverberated in my mind.
What a joke, this Narrator.
A system in web novels frequently had a protagonist who bore a system.
This system would help him through thick or thin by giving him an advantage.
That usually consisted of extra currency, being the only one who levels, being the sole reader of something, or being the honored one.
I had none of those.
The ability of the Narrator was vague and it doesn’t really do anything but narrate my story.
In fact, the Narrator narrated every part of my life.
In the middle of doomsday, I was unable to bathe after departing from The Federation. But after taking a visit to Eisenblad State Hospital, I was finally able to take a shower in one of the rooms. The water still runs, good thing. During my shower as I scrubbed my body with a torn piece of a blanket and a bar of soap, when these words were uttered by that damn system:
—Reverie made sure to agitate the soap and work up a lather on the scrap of fabric.
—He scrubbed his torso, and went down, down, down...
I just knew whoever was on the other side of the system enjoyed poking fun at me.
What is this, My Pervert System?
But, at the very least, there was something useful regarding the Narrator.
That is its ability to change the course of the story.
I had witnessed it beforehand.
The Narrator had squished my anomalous existence in between the characters’ pasts, making them believe I had been one of them.
Of course, seeing that Harriet was able to see through it made me question its abilities ever so slightly.
Though, Harriet may have been an exception. Out of all characters besides Ben, she was the one I felt closest to.
Her counterpart in my reality was my first love, after all.
Harriet.
All is said and done, but there was a calm sorrow that plagued both my mind and heart that started from my knowing of Harriet’s demise.
Anyhow, the Narrator is able to change the storyline. How, I was not aware.
But that will contradict with what Bachulus had told me.
He told me, not in his exact words, to not mess with the storyline, for it may cause an effect even worse than I had imagined.
Which side should I stand on, in the grand scheme of things?
What’s more is the mystery of Oliver’s death.
What did he really see in his last few moments?
He mentioned "Fourth Wall Breaker."
It was a term I was only slightly familiar with.
The fourth-wall referred to an unconventional, usually metaphorical, wall that separated fiction, the characters, and reality, the audience.
In a world like Earth-73 wherein a novel had become reality, it seemed befitting of the term.
But up to what extent did that apply?
I am a writer of a novel.
That novel turned into reality.
While that was going on, the characters of said novel were brought to life.
How, then, was I supposed to differentiate real characters to fictional?
I recalled the words of Bachulus.
Never get too attached, for fictional characters don’t live beyond their respective Chapters.
How terrific.
Did I have to wait for each Chapter to end?
How was I supposed to find companions that would live to the end?
I thought once more, then a realization struck me.
I must only interact with the main characters!
-
Other than that, I wanted to know the limits of my newfound anomaly, Regenerator.
A shard of glass just so happened to be under the soles of my combat boots.
From then on, I realized a few things.
A slit on the skin where fat has accumulated will regenerate quicker, around ten to twenty seconds.
A bone fracture would take more than an hour depending on its severity.
A ripped vein would use its own blood to form the skin, making it look like an amateur’s metalworking or welding.
It needed some sort of body fluid to regenerate skin, or else it’d just leave a scar.
According to my knowledge of Imperfect Knight’s power system, when there is a part that is sliced off the main body, it will heal on its own. Eventually, making a clone of its former inhibitor.
Regenerating does not lessen your Word, but it does, however, hurt as hell.
As it regenerates, you can feel the pain tenfold. There was fiery pain when slicing the tissue and as it healed.
I was then searching for a place to sleep for the night.
In due course, I decided to live on the third floor of an abandoned corporate skyscraper.
It was chilly, but at least there were no behemoths or the like.
Zipping my jacket up to my chin, I used a bundle of an unknown plant’s leaves as a pillow.
My legs were in pain so I elevated it on a boulder, reminding me of my first meeting with Ben.
No...Why did I feel like I was wrong?
The white figure that haunted me suddenly appeared in my mind.
Huh...I was sure I had met Ben before the aftermath of the first round.
Flashes of memories of that night before the first round. I was praying, then a white figure walked up to me and...
What else?
—The Narrator has rewritten the story.