The Immersion Realm bent around Linxia like a living tapestry—stars threaded through ink-black skies, floating structures shifting with narrative intention, and landscapes made of ideas, memories, and metaphors. For three long years, he had wandered through this dream-scripted dimension, writing himself not into the role of the hero... but into the shadow behind him.
Not Kael. But the one who whispered to Kael. Empowered him. Protected him. Manipulated the strings of his fate.
Linxia was the echo behind the legend. The source behind the myth.
And tonight—finally—he stood before the last gate.
The tenth chapter pulsed in his hand. Still warm. Still trembling. The letters bled reality; they weren't just words. They were law. Consequence. Outcome. Finely carved pieces of someone else's destiny—his fingerprints hidden between the lines.
He had done it. All ten chapters crafted. Narratives intertwined. Fates adjusted. And the final test—editing—stood before him.
Miss D was waiting.
In her usual seat—floating above a desk of rotating glyphs and ever-burning tea candles—she looked over the tenth chapter like a surgeon about to perform delicate work.
"No," she said flatly, tossing the first version into a pile of rejected pages. "Too much exposition. The Shadow doesn't monologue."
Linxia sighed.
Draft after draft, he adjusted the tension. Cut dialogue. Reshaped pacing. Reduced emotional indulgence. Let Kael think he won, while weaving the real victory into a line barely two words long.
Hours passed. Or perhaps eternities. In the Immersion Realm, time was subjective.
Miss D sipped her floating cup of tea, paused mid-page, and... blinked.
Silence.
Then a nod.
"This'll do."
The chapter glowed in her hands, uploaded into the Codex above her desk. As it merged with the others, the ten chapters formed a radiant sigil—complex, elegant, and finally... complete.
[Main Narrative Mission: Completed.]
A chime echoed in Linxia's mind. The System Interface blinked to life, neon script scrolling across his vision:
> +100,000 aEXP Earned!
New Story Thread Unlocked.
Reward Dispensed: "Glasses of Narrative Refraction" (Unidentified Bonus)
Please Check Inventory.
A pair of sleek, metallic-framed glasses materialized in his palm—lenses tinted the faintest violet, edges etched with shifting symbols. He slid them on. Nothing changed. Yet somehow... everything had.
He could feel subtext now. See footnotes behind reality. Dialogue trees hovered faintly around objects, people, even memories. The world had gained a new layer.
He didn't have time to analyze it.
There was a knock.
Not in the Immersion Realm.
In the real world.
With a breath, Linxia triggered the exit sequence. Reality folded open like paper, and he stepped through.
---
Morning light. His apartment. His desk cluttered with snacks, scribbled notes, and a steaming mug long gone cold.
He blinked.
Only one night had passed.
Three years condensed into a fevered moment.
The knock came again—louder this time.
He opened the door to find Zayn, arms crossed, looking slightly out of breath.
"Finally, you're awake," Zayn said, already pushing his way in. "Tryouts are starting. You ready?"
Linxia blinked once. The glasses shimmered on his nose.
He smiled faintly.
"Always."
---
The sun was still rising when Linxia stepped out.
The cobbled path leading toward the arena was already alive with anticipation—students warming up, energy fields crackling in the air, hushed murmurs and silent glares exchanged like pre-battle salutes. But as Linxia moved through the crowd, heads turned for reasons even they couldn't explain.
He wasn't doing anything strange. Wasn't looking at anyone. Wasn't even projecting any pressure intentionally.
But people instinctively stepped aside.
Some blinked and frowned, unsettled by a vague sense of déjà vu. Others avoided eye contact entirely. One particularly sensitive girl from the Eastern Enclave turned pale the moment he passed, clutching the edge of her robe like a warding charm.
No one could place it—but there was something in the air around him.
Something… not quite alive.
And Linxia didn't notice any of it.
He strolled along with calm purpose, eyes forward, mind still processing the aftershock of three years lived as a near-omniscient entity. In the Immersion Realm, he had woven Kael's legend by becoming the Architect of Atvia—the being behind the fallen hero who had rewritten fate itself before falling into madness and obscurity.
And now, that Architect's aura clung to him like the last wisps of dream-smoke.
It wasn't visible. Not exactly. But it was there.
A low hum of dominion.
The echo of a mind that once bent continents with a quill.
The chill of a man who had stared too long into prophecy and found his own reflection staring back.
Even though Linxia had returned, the Architect had not fully let go.
His posture carried the unintentional command of someone used to being obeyed. His silences felt like judgment. His gaze—casual, absent—could make people feel seen in ways they didn't enjoy.
Of course, none of this was permanent.
The System had already informed him: residual aura bleed from long-term immersion would fade in time.
Still, for now, he moved like a shadow half-remembered from a nightmare. Not monstrous—but unsettling.
He passed a group of students who had been laughing moments before. They fell silent. One muttered under their breath, "Who the hell was that?"
No one answered.
Even Zayn, walking ahead, glanced back once, as if to confirm something—but said nothing.
The Arena Gates loomed up ahead—wide, silver-lined, humming with layered enchantments.
Linxia stepped forward, hands in pockets, expression unreadable behind his new glasses. His gaze swept over the archway without blinking. The runes pulsed… and then flickered, like candlelight caught in a breeze.
Again, no one else noticed.
The Architect was fading.
But not fast enough.
---