《Plot Armor Agency》


 Wait For me You Peasants!

    Click... Click... Click...


    The sound of frantic typing filled the dark, cramped room. The only light came from the screen, its glow casting weird, ghostly shadows across piles of crumpled snack wrappers and half-empty cans of Red Bull. The air was thick with the stale stench of instant noodles and desperation. Sitting hunched over the keyboard was a boy¡ªthough that might be generous; more like a creature. Hair sticking up in every direction, eyes bloodshot and ringed with dark circles like he hadn''t slept in days¡­ because he hadn''t.


    He was a mess, a haggard, smelly, awful-looking mess of a human being. But he was on a mission. His fingers pounded the keys, rapid-fire, a machine-gun rhythm of pure, manic energy. Click. Click. Click. Each keystroke felt like a battle cry against the legion of trolls who dared to challenge his genius.


    His bloodshot eyes scanned the screen, darting back and forth across the never-ending flood of comments. "This plot makes no sense." "You call this writing?" "Did you fail every creative writing class, or just most of them?" He snorted, rolling his eyes so hard they almost disappeared into his skull.


    "Bitch, what do you know?" he muttered under his breath, fingers smashing down on the keyboard as he replied to one particularly idiotic comment. "You wouldn''t know a masterpiece if it bit you in the ass."


    He leaned back for a second, rubbing his temples, a twisted smile curling his lips. "Peasants," he whispered with a venomous chuckle. "All of you. Ungrateful peasants. You should be worshipping me for this masterful novel, like rabid dogs drooling over a piece of meat."


    His eyes blazed with a mix of fury and caffeinated madness. He took a long gulp of Red Bull, slamming the can down on his desk with a clatter. "Come on, give me your worst," he growled at the screen, as if daring the faceless masses to attack him harder.


    Then, amid the sea of hate, insults, and the occasional poorly spelled praise, one comment made him pause. Just for a second. The words seemed to shimmer on the screen, brighter than the rest, almost like they were glowing:


    "Wanna change the storylines of billions of novels with your plot armor?"


    He blinked, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "The hell?" he muttered, leaning closer to the screen. His greasy hair flopped into his eyes, and he shoved it back, squinting at the comment. Was this some new kind of troll? Some weirdo trying to mess with him? Or¡­ or maybe they actually got it?


    He laughed, a short, sharp bark of a laugh that echoed around his filthy room. "Yeah, right," he sneered, fingers itching to type back something sarcastic, something cutting. "You think you can just come in here and¡ª"


    But something stopped him. Maybe it was the way the words seemed to pulse, alive with some strange energy. Maybe it was the fact that no username was attached to the comment, just a blank space, like the internet itself was speaking to him. Or maybe¡­ maybe he was just so sleep-deprived he was starting to hallucinate.


    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    He glanced at the empty cans and crumpled snack bags. "Okay, maybe I''ve had too much caffeine," he mumbled, but his eyes never left the screen. The comment seemed to be¡­ waiting. Beckoning.


    "Ah, screw it," he muttered, clicking on the text.


    The second his finger hit the mouse, the screen went black. His room plunged into total darkness, the glow of the monitor snuffed out like a candle in a storm. "Shit," he cursed, slamming his fist on the desk. "Did my piece-of-crap computer just die on me now?"


    But before he could move, the screen flared back to life. Colors swirled, shapes shifted, like his computer had been hijacked by some insane graphic designer on an acid trip. And then, slowly, a shadowy figure emerged from the chaos, as if forming from the pixels themselves.


    The figure''s voice came out slowly, like a record scratched up by the Devil himself:


    "Wanna¡­" The screen flickered.


    "Change¡­" His heart thudded.


    "The¡­" His breath caught.


    "Storylines¡­" Was he going mad?


    "Of¡­" Sweat dripped down his temple.


    "Billions¡­"


    "Of¡­"


    "Novels¡­?"


    He stared, slack-jawed, as the words hung in the air like a twisted omen. Then, the figure''s tone grew darker, more sinister: "Penalty for failure? Your worthless existence. Your fate. Every word you type, cursed to hell. You''ve got a spine, kid, but do you have the guts to change the world?"


    A grin spread across his face, slow and deranged. His breath was coming out in ragged, wild gasps. Then he burst into a deep, guttural laugh¡ªa madman''s laugh, a villain''s laugh. "Hahaha!" He threw his head back, letting the sound echo through his filthy room. "Just wait for me, peasants¡­ Just wait."


    His fingers hovered over the keys, trembling with excitement, the words tumbling out in a crazed mumble. "I''m gonna show all of you. Every single one of you trolls and losers. Just wait¡­ You think I''m a joke now? You have no idea what I''m capable of."


    And the figure on the screen? It watched. And waited.


    With a reckless, feverish grin, he clicked the screen once more, defying everything with the pressure of his finger. And then¡­


    His entire body lurched forward, like he''d been yanked by some unseen force. The room around him dissolved, the walls crumbling into pixels, the floor dropping out from under him. He fell, or at least, he felt like he did¡ªlike falling through a bottomless void. His stomach turned, his heart racing with a mix of terror and wild, uncontrollable excitement.


    He slammed onto solid ground. The air knocked out of his lungs, and he blinked, gasping. Slowly, he pushed himself up to his knees, taking in his surroundings.


    He was in¡­ space. But not the empty, silent kind. This was something else¡ªa strange space where the horizon was an endless expanse of star-strewn galaxies, spiraling and stretching as far as the eye could see. Milky Ways upon Milky Ways, constellations tangled together like a cosmic spider web, glowing in an eerie, almost unnatural light. There was a slight mechanical hum in the air, like the sound of a great machine breathing.


    He looked down and saw Earth¡ªa small, blue dot far, far below him, as if he was standing on some glass-like surface suspended in the heavens. A transparent wall separated him from the vastness of space, like a window into infinity.


    A screen, floating in mid-air like a ghostly apparition, materialized before him. It was unreal, but so real¡ªdefying all logic, yet somehow there. Words glowed on the screen in bright, electric blue. He stared at them, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.


    The top of the screen read:


    NAME: [ERROR: UNKNOWN]


    Below it, there were several lines of text. Most were blurred, locked, or obscured by static, like someone had taken a redacted document and fed it through a digital shredder. But one line was clear, standing out against the rest:


    "Plot Armor Genius."


    He laughed¡ªa low, mad chuckle. "Damn right," he muttered, his grin stretching wide across his face. "Who the hell else would it be?"


    He leaned in closer, trying to read the blurred-out sections, but they were unreadable, a mass of digital noise and static. His name? Gone. His past? Locked behind some kind of firewall he couldn''t penetrate. All he had was this new title: Plot Armor Genius.


    "Well, that''s new," he mumbled to himself. "So, what now?"


    The screen flickered, and a new message appeared:


    "Welcome to the Plot Armor Agency. Your mission begins now."


    He smirked, licking his dry lips, his eyes wild and glittering with excitement. "Alright, whatever you are, whatever this is¡­ I''m in. Let''s rewrite some goddamn reality."

 Assistant

    He opened his eyes, wincing as a sharp, throbbing headache pulsed through his skull. The ceiling above him wasn''t like anything he''d ever seen¡ªdefinitely not metal, but not exactly normal either. It looked like some kind of crystal, smooth and reflective, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost alive. There was a strange, mechanical vibe to it, like the entire room was built out of some futuristic tech he couldn''t even begin to understand.


    Groaning, he pushed himself upright, trying to shake off the confusion that clouded his mind. "Where the hell am I?" he muttered, rubbing his temples. Something felt off. Really off. He looked around, taking in the strange, shimmering walls and the soft, blue glow that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere all at once.


    Then he looked down¡ªand his heart nearly stopped. He was completely, utterly, butt-naked.


    "Shit!" he screamed, his hands flying to cover his crotch. Panic surged through him. "What the¡ª! Where are my clothes?!" He frantically scanned the room for something¡ªanything¡ªto cover himself up. His eyes landed on a thin, metallic blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Without a second thought, he grabbed it and wrapped it around his body, sighing in relief as he managed to hide his¡­ "little problem."


    "Okay, okay¡­ it''s fine. No one saw," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his racing heart. But then he heard it¡ªa soft chuckle, low and mocking, coming from somewhere in the room.


    "What the¡ªwho''s there?" he demanded, his voice trembling slightly as he scanned the empty space. But he saw no one.


    The chuckle grew louder, turning into a full-blown laugh. "Oh, this is rich¡­ I didn''t expect my first assignment to be such a pathetic creature," a voice said, dripping with amusement.


    His head snapped toward the sound, and his eyes widened. Out of thin air, a woman appeared, materializing like she''d just stepped through some invisible doorway. She was tall, with a slender, well-toned figure, wearing a tight mini skirt that hugged her wide hips and a white blouse that struggled to contain her large breasts. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, but it only seemed to accentuate her sharp green eyes, predatory gaze. She had a smirk on her lips, a look that was both bemused and disgusted, like she was staring at a piece of trash on her expensive shoes.


    "Wh-what the fuck?" he stammered, stumbling back onto the bed, his heart hammering in his chest. "Who the hell are you?!"


    The woman''s smirk widened into a full-blown grin as she crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a once-over with a gaze that felt like it could cut through steel. "Wow," she said, her voice thick with mockery. "What a tiny dick."


    His face flushed beet red, and he instinctively tightened the blanket around himself, his eyes wide with shock and a little bit of terror. "Hey! Who the hell do you think you are?" he shouted, trying to sound braver than he felt. "Don''t you just pop out of nowhere and insult me!"


    She laughed again, the sound light and airy but filled with a cruel edge. "Oh, this is going to be fun," she purred, stepping closer. "But I''m afraid I''m not here to admire your¡­ assets." Her tone was dripping with sarcasm, and he could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger.


    "Stay back!" he yelled, jumping to the other side of the bed, holding the blanket like it was a shield that could protect him from whatever this¡­ this woman was.


    She raised an eyebrow, looking at him like he was some kind of insect she could squash under her heel. "Relax, little man," she said, her tone as cold as ice. "I''m not here to hurt you. Much."


    Before he could retort, a floating window appeared in front of him, glowing with a faint blue light. He blinked, staring at the text that began to scroll across the translucent screen:


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    NAME: Scarlet


    ROLE: Assistant


    Below that, more information appeared, but most of it was locked, the letters blurred and unreadable, save for a few lines:


    Status: High


    Personality: Rude, untouchable, despises weakness, views you as a "sickly creature"


    Alignment: Dream Creature


    He swallowed hard, trying to make sense of the words in front of him. "Assistant?" he muttered, still holding onto the blanket for dear life. "What the hell does that even mean?"


    Scarlet leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "It means I''m here to make sure you don''t completely screw this up, little man," she said with a sneer. "I''m your guide, your handler, your¡­ let''s call it your babysitter. And trust me, this is a job I wouldn''t wish on my worst enemy."


    He scowled, still trying to process everything. "A babysitter?" he spat. "I''m not a kid! I don''t need a babysitter!"


    Scarlet''s grin turned wicked. "Oh, you will," she said, her voice almost a purr. "Because from where I''m standing, you''re nothing but a sad little worm in a very big, very dangerous universe. And if you think you''re going to survive out here without me, you''re even dumber than you look."


    He glared at her, anger boiling in his veins, but deep down, he couldn''t shake the feeling that she might just be right.


    His heart pounded as he stared at the floating window in front of him, the words "Plot Armor Genius" still flickering on the screen. Scarlet leaned closer, her eyes narrowing with a mix of disdain and annoyance. Her voice was cold and sharp as a knife''s edge. "Listen up, worm," she said, her tone clipped and irritated. "For me to become a manager, I have to make sure *you* complete 100 storylines. If you manage that, you''ll become a full-time employee in our prestigious Plot Armor Agency¡­ you piece of shit."


    He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure as her words sank in. Scarlet''s expression soured further, and she muttered under her breath, "Where the hell did I go wrong to end up babysitting this trash?" She bit her perfectly manicured nails, frustration and anger flashing across her face. "I should be managing a real talent, not¡­ this."


    He flinched as her gaze turned back to him, more cutting than before. "To survive here, you have to complete 100 storylines and get them approved by the publishers," she continued, each word dripping with disdain. "If you can''t meet the deadlines¡­ well, you''ll be kicked into the Abyss. And trust me, before that happens, I''ll personally pluck your little crotch and use your balls for golf. Got it?"


    A cold shiver ran down his spine. He felt a scream building in his throat, but he forced it down, terrified he might actually wet himself in front of her. He was stunned, his brain short-circuiting at the idea of his "little man" being plucked out. He instinctively reached down to make sure it was still there, relief washing over him as he confirmed it hadn''t disappeared.


    "Y-yes, yes, I''ll do it!" he stammered, obediently sitting down on the edge of the bed, head down, trying to look as submissive as possible. But when he dared to glance back up, his eyes inadvertently landed on something he wished they hadn''t¡ªScarlet''s panties, barely hidden beneath her mini skirt, a delicate pink lace that sent his blood rushing to his nose.


    Blood erupted from his nostrils in a fountain of red, and he staggered back, mouth agape. Scarlet''s eyes widened in shock, her face twisting in disgust. "You filthy pervert!" she screamed, her voice high and shrill. Before he could even think to explain, she swung her leg up and kicked him square in the face, sending him flying back onto the bed. His vision blurred, stars dancing before his eyes, and then everything went dark.


    He woke up a few moments later, a sharp pain throbbing in his head. Groaning, he scrambled to his feet, desperately babbling, "I''m sorry! I''m sorry! I swear I wasn''t looking! Please don''t kill me, don''t pluck me, I''ll do anything¡ªjust spare my¡­ my little bro!"


    Scarlet stood there, her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a tight line. Her eyes blazed with anger, a vein twitching at her temple. She looked like she was two seconds away from launching him into the sun. But then she sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Pathetic," she muttered. "A beggar, a trash piece of shit like you gets to see this majesty up close, and you think that''s not a reward of a lifetime?" Her mouth curled into a smirk, a cruel glint in her eye. "Now grovel at my feet, worm," she commanded, her voice filled with mocking disdain. "Let''s see you jerking around like the ant you are."


    He screamed internally, his pride torn to shreds, every nerve in his body vibrating with humiliation and rage. His mind was a whirlwind of fury, and despite his fear, a single, blazing thought cut through the chaos: *I''ll make you pay for this, bitch. No matter what it takes, I''ll make you pay for this humiliation.*


    He stayed on his knees, trembling, forcing himself to swallow his anger¡ªfor now. But deep inside, a spark of defiance had ignited, and it was growing, burning hotter with every second.

 I’m Really Fucked Up

    After all the chaos, embarrassment, and pain, he sat on the bed, his face still throbbing from Scarlet''s kick. His mind was racing, but he couldn''t focus. It was too much¡ªthis strange place, that crazy assistant, and the sheer insanity of everything she''d said.


    Scarlet, meanwhile, had crossed her arms and was tapping her foot impatiently, staring at him like she was waiting for him to catch up. When she finally spoke again, her voice was dripping with the same arrogant tone she''d had since she first appeared.


    "Alright, listen up," she said, her words cutting through his dazed thoughts like a knife. "Since you''re such a clueless piece of shit, let me break it down for you. Welcome to the Plot Armor Agency¡ªthe most prestigious organization behind every goddamn novel, movie, and story you''ve ever come across." She waved a hand dramatically, like she was presenting something grand, though her voice was thick with sarcasm.


    He blinked, still trying to wrap his head around what she was saying. "Wait¡­ what?"


    Scarlet let out a sharp, annoyed sigh. "Do I really have to explain everything to you?" She rolled her eyes, clearly irritated. "The Plot Armor Agency is the backbone of every successful story. We''re the ones who make sure those oh-so-special protagonists don''t get killed off five minutes into their heroic quests. We give them the plot armor they need to survive whatever dumb shit they get themselves into. You ever wonder how some dumbass MC walks away from getting stabbed twenty times or survives a fall from a 10-story building? Yeah, that''s us. We make sure those idiots can complete their storylines and get to the end without dying or getting fucked up by some overpowered villain."


    His jaw dropped. "You mean¡­ all those stories¡­ you make sure they don''t die?"


    Scarlet snorted. "Of course. How else do you think they get through impossible situations? Do you honestly think natural talent is enough to survive a 300-chapter novel? Without us, they''d all be toast." She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. "We give them the strength, the luck, the insane plot twists that save their asses at the last second. We''re the gods of storytelling, and without us, there''d be nothing."


    He stared at her, trying to process the sheer weight of what she was saying. "That''s¡­ insane."


    "No," she said, her voice flat and cold. "What''s insane is that I''m stuck babysitting you." She crossed her arms and looked down at him like he was dirt beneath her feet. "I''m a top-tier agent, and now I''m stuck here explaining basic shit to a loser like you."


    He shifted uncomfortably under her glare. "So¡­ how does this work, exactly?"


    Scarlet rolled her eyes again, clearly frustrated that he didn''t just get it. "The agency has a hierarchy, dumbass. At the top, there''s the CEO¡ªthe big boss who oversees everything. Below that, you''ve got managers, like the one I should be if you don''t screw everything up. Then there are full-time agents, who handle the more complicated storylines, followed by part-timers who get the smaller jobs."


    "And then¡­ there''s you," she added with a sneer. "The lowest of the low. Temporary employee. You don''t even get to pick your name here yet. Everything you have, everything you are, has to be earned." She practically spat the last word, making it clear just how much she despised his current position. "You''ll be earning your name, your clothes, your status, your whole existence here. Welcome to hell."


    He swallowed, a cold knot forming in his stomach. "And¡­ what do I have to do?"


    Scarlet gave him a hard look. "You have to submit at least one storyline every month. Think of it like freelance work, but with way more at stake. You get a beginner''s package when you start out. That includes 100 Int Coins¡ªthe currency here and basic clothes. You''ll need them to buy everything you need to survive. Clothes, food, basic living essentials, even the ability to bypass certain checkpoints in the storylines you''re assigned. Without Int Coins, you''re as good as dead here."


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    He nodded, feeling the weight of her words settling on his shoulders. "So¡­ I have to use these coins to survive and clear storylines?"


    "Exactly," she said with a wicked grin. "And since you''re a temporary employee, you don''t get shit unless you work for it. Each storyline you submit has to be approved by the publishers, or it doesn''t count. Miss a deadline, and you''re out."


    "Out?" he repeated, not sure he wanted to know the answer.


    Scarlet''s grin turned darker, more malicious. "Out means kicked to the Abyss. A place for failures like you, who couldn''t hack it in the agency. But like I said, don''t worry¡ªyou won''t be there long. I''ll make sure to pluck your tiny crotch off and use your balls for golf long before they throw you down."


    His face paled, and he felt another wave of panic rising. "O-okay, I get it! I''ll do it! I''ll meet the deadlines!"


    Scarlet snorted, clearly amused by his desperation. "You better, or you''ll be nothing more than a stain on the bottom of this agency''s shoe."


    His head was spinning. One storyline per month? Int Coins to buy even the basics like food and clothing? And if he failed, not only would he be thrown into some hellish void, but she''d personally take out her frustrations on his most sensitive areas.


    This was beyond messed up.


    As he sat there, still processing everything, Scarlet stepped closer again, looking down at him with that same cold, superior expression. "Look, let''s make one thing clear," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "You''re lucky to even be here. Most people don''t even make it this far. But don''t mistake your position for anything special. You''re at the bottom of the barrel, and the only reason you''re not completely crushed is because I''m here to babysit you."


    He clenched his fists, trying to fight back the humiliation burning in his chest.


    "Just remember," she added, her lips curling into a smirk. "A piece of trash like you doesn''t deserve to even breathe the same air as me. Consider yourself lucky you get to see me up close. It''s probably the best thing that''ll happen in your worthless life."


    He felt anger bubbling up again, but there was nothing he could do. He was completely trapped, dependent on this nightmare of a woman for his survival. Still, deep inside, the fury was building. One day, he thought. One day, I''ll make you pay for this, Bitch.


    Scarlet gave him one last look of disdain, her eyes narrowing in disgust. "Here," she said, flicking her hand carelessly. In the air before him, a small stack of shimmering coins appeared, glowing with an otherworldly light. "That''s your 100 Int Coins and your basic clothes. Use them wisely¡ªor don''t. I honestly couldn''t give a shit. Just remember, you worthless pebble, don''t disturb me before submitting your first storyline. I''ll be checking it myself before it goes to the publishers. Last thing I need is you turning me into a joke in front of everyone else."


    With that, she snapped her fingers and disappeared just as suddenly as she''d arrived, leaving not a trace behind. It was as if the whole encounter had been some bizarre fever dream, except for the fact that the Int Coins were still floating there in front of him.


    He sat on the bed, feeling the weight of it all press down on him. His head was swimming, his mouth dry, and a bitter, foul taste lingered on his tongue. How low could this get? He didn''t even have a name, and the most messed-up part was¡­ he couldn''t remember what his real name was. His heart sank as the reality hit him¡ªthat Bitch hadn''t been lying. He actually had to earn his own name in this insane place.


    He ran his hands through his hair, staring blankly at the coins, the sinking feeling of hopelessness creeping in. "What the Fuck did I do to deserve this?" he muttered to himself. The unfairness of it all gnawed at him, but he forced himself to stay calm. "Don''t be discouraged," he whispered. "There will be a time when I''ll make her pay for all of this. But for now¡­" He shook his head, clearing the thoughts of revenge from his mind. "I need to focus."


    With a sigh, he first covered his butt nacked body with the basic clothes, the clothes look like simple plain blue with two white lines starting from one feet and ending on the second, it looked like some sci-fi prisoner clothes well he had to do any thing to survive then he reached out and touched the coins. As soon as his fingers brushed them, a new window appeared before him, floating in the air just like all the others.


    You have received 100 Int Coins. Condition met for opening the Shop.


    He didn''t even flinch this time. He was starting to get used to these weird windows popping up out of nowhere. The shock was wearing off. He sighed again, leaning forward to get a better look at the interface that had materialized in front of him.


    The shop window expanded, showing several different sections, each labeled in bold text. He skimmed over the categories quickly:


    Daily Living Items


    Storyline Shop


    Chat System (Locked)


    Lounge (Locked)


    Everything but two categories were locked tight, like they were gated behind some kind of invisible barrier. Only "Daily Living Items" and "Storyline Shop" were available to him. Curious, he clicked on the Storyline section first. His eyes scanned the options.


    The cheapest price listed? 100 Int Coins.


    He groaned, running a hand down his face. "Of course, Why wouldn''t it be" he muttered. "It''s like they want me to Fucking go broke and grovel on my first day."


    He slumped back onto the bed, staring up at the strange crystalline ceiling again. "I''m really fucked up," he muttered under his breath. It was starting to dawn on him just how deep he''d fallen into this mess. There was no escape. No name, no freedom, and only enough coins to barely get started.


    He closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts. "One step at a time," he told himself. "First, get the storyline. Then¡­ figure out how the hell to survive here."


    The thought of Scarlet''s smug face flashed in his mind, and he clenched his fists. One day, he thought darkly. One day, I''ll make that bitch regret every word. But right now, he had to play by the rules¡ªand those rules were stacked heavily against him.

 Stories

    He sat there, staring at the glowing shop window. The pit in his stomach deepened as he realized just how badly he''d screwed up. The lowest-priced storyline available was 100 Int Coins¡ªthe exact amount he had. But it wasn''t just about the storylines. He needed food. Clothes. Basic things to survive. There were no magic plot twists here, no miraculous banana peel saving his life. There was no plot armor for him. No shortcuts. No lucky encounters. He was alone, in a world that couldn''t care less whether he lived or died.


    The weight of his situation settled heavily on his shoulders, making him feel like the miserable trash Scarlet had said he was. But as much as he wanted to curl up and give in, something inside him stirred. No. He couldn''t just sit here and wallow in self-pity. He had to figure this out. He had no other choice.


    As he struggled to his feet, a window appeared in front of him, hovering in the air with a faint blue glow.


    Plot Armor Genius Activated


    A flood of strange sensations hit him, like a thousand neurons firing at once, trillions of connections lighting up in his brain. He felt his mind sharpen, his thoughts becoming clear and precise. The system''s description flashed before his eyes:


    Plot Armor Genius: The ability to process problems at a transcendent level.


    "Well, that''s something," he thought, smirking bitterly. He didn''t have any plot armor to save him from this mess, but maybe, just maybe, his brain could pull him through.


    Ignoring the Daily Living section for now¡ªhe knew he couldn''t afford a single item there¡ªhe opened the Storyline Shop. Five sections appeared, with the headings clear except for a few that were blurred out and locked:


    - Novels


    - Mature (18+) Novels


    - [Locked]


    - [Locked]


    - [Locked]


    His eyes immediately landed on the *Mature* section. A grin spread across his face. "I''m a cultured man," he whispered to himself, his mood lifting for the first time in hours. He chuckled as a thought popped into his head. "My fellow readers, just wait for me. Your brother''s gonna lose his virginity today!"


    He clicked the section with excitement, his mind racing with possibilities. "I''m coming, baby," he whispered, eyes twinkling with hope. But as the list of novels opened up, his excitement was instantly crushed. The minimum price for even the lowest-tier Mature novel? 100,000 Int Coins.


    It was like being hit by a truck.


    He froze, then awkwardly chuckled, pretending to brush it off. "I-I was just joking, y''know? Of course I''m not gonna¡­" He trailed off, the bitterness returning. He clenched his fists and screamed internally. " Why?! Just WHY?! "


    Slumping back onto the bed, he slammed his head into his hands, groaning at his terrible luck. After his little melodrama, he shifted his focus to the ''Novels'' section. The screen flooded with familiar titles, names that sparked something in his memory:


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    - Martial Peak


    - Demon Emperor


    - Solo Leveling


    - I Am The Fated Villain


    - Nano Machine


    The problem? The prices. His eyes widened in horror as he scrolled down the list. The cheapest ones were 500,000 Int Coins, and some of the top-tier ones were priced well beyond that.


    ''How the hell am I supposed to afford this?!'' he thought, gritting his teeth. He cursed the system under his breath, sliding past the more expensive titles, looking for anything remotely affordable.


    Then, something strange caught his eye. A title at the bottom of the list. It didn''t look like the others. The font was more elegant, almost royal in its design. The name was unfamiliar, something about it giving off a strange, prestigious vibe. It looked expensive, but when he tried to select it, an error message flashed:


    Low Authentication: Insufficient Credentials.


    He frowned, scratching his head. ''What the hell does that mean?'' He stared at the screen for a moment, contemplating why he couldn''t access it, but quickly brushed it off. No point dwelling on it now. He needed something cheap and quick, just to meet his first deadline.


    He randomly scrolled through the lowest-tier stories, finally settling on one that looked simple and easy to get through. A basic children''s novel. ''This should be easy'' , he thought, clicking the selection with a tired sigh.


    But little did he know, even the lowest-tier story was about to kick his ass in ways he never imagined.


    As soon as he clicked the story, the world around him shimmered, and a portal opened up in front of him. He''d missed the description, too busy wallowing in his frustration to even glance at what he''d chosen. All he saw was a name that seemed innocent enough¡ªThe Baby Story. How bad could it be, right?


    A large, door-like crystal appear at the center of the room, shimmering with faint, fiery waves that seemed to dance like an illusion¡ªboth mechanical and mysterious at the same time. The light was soft, dim, almost hypnotic. He couldn''t help but be drawn in, staring at the door, awestruck by its beauty.


    This isn''t so bad, he thought. The portal, the eerie calm, the otherworldly glow¡ªit all felt like a dream. A soft breeze swept through the room, carrying a scent he couldn''t quite place. He wasn''t sure whether to feel comforted or unnerved, but something deep inside warned him this was far from a dream.


    With a deep breath, he stepped through the door.


    A bright flash of light blinded him, forcing him to shield his eyes. When the light finally faded, he found himself standing in a room, and his jaw nearly dropped. It was a lobby, elegant and pristine, but nothing like he had imagined. The atmosphere felt rich, almost ethereal. He glanced around nervously, his heartbeat slowing as he took in the surroundings.


    Sitting behind an immaculate reception desk was the most stunning woman he had ever seen in his life. Her beauty was almost surreal, like something carved by the gods. Her hair, dark and flowing, fell effortlessly over her shoulders. Her skin had a softness to it that glowed with a kind of purity, and her eyes sparkled with a depth that made his mind go blank. Every movement she made was fluid, elegant, as if she wasn''t just a person but a living piece of art.


    He swallowed hard, feeling his throat go dry. "Uh¡­ I¡­"


    The woman smiled, and it was like a soft melody playing in the background, her voice a tender, melodic tone that sent shivers down his spine. "How may I help you, sir?" she asked, her tone as soft and gentle as a lullaby.


    He blinked, trying to regain his composure. "Uh, yeah. I-I picked a storyline," he stammered, still trying to shake off the spell of her presence. "I think I''m supposed to start it now?"


    The receptionist nodded, her smile never wavering. "Of course, Mr. ¡­" She paused, glancing at her screen. "Ah, no name registered yet. Well, you''ll earn that soon enough," she said with a sweet, understanding tone that only made his heart race faster.


    He nodded dumbly, still lost in her gaze. "Yeah¡­ name. I''ll get that."


    The receptionist, still smiling, asked, "What storyline did you select, sir?"


    "Oh, uh¡­ The Baby Story."


    Her eyes widened, just for a split second, and she seemed to freeze. There was a flicker of something in her gaze¡ªterror, shock, something darker¡ªbut she quickly composed herself. Even though her face remained calm and professional, he noticed the beads of sweat forming at her temple, the slight tremble in her hands as she gripped the desk.


    "Are you¡­ sure, sir?" she asked, her voice quivering just a little, as if she had seen a ghost but was trying desperately to maintain her composure. Her confident facade cracked ever so slightly, though she never stumbled.


    He hesitated, confused by her reaction. "Yeah, I''m sure."


    She gave a slow nod, but this time, her voice was barely steady. "Very well, sir." She motioned to a glowing door behind her, her movements more hurried now. "Please step through this door, and you will arrive at your storyline. May you¡­ create a wonderful story, sir."


    He furrowed his brows, still unsure why she looked so rattled. "Thanks, I guess¡­"


    She didn''t respond this time, only watching him with those wide, slightly panicked eyes as he approached the door. Something was off, but there was no turning back now.

 The Baby

    He stepped through the door and instantly felt like he had been yanked into another dimension. The first thing he saw was the night sky¡ªa vast, endless expanse of black velvet dotted with twinkling stars. A massive full moon hung in the sky, shimmering like a diamond, casting an eerie glow over everything. There was no ground beneath his feet, no sense of direction. Just the sky, stretching out infinitely in all directions.


    Before he could even process where he was, his foot touched the air¡ªsolid one second, but the next he was plummeting. His stomach lurched as gravity took hold, and he began falling. His scream tore from his throat, panic surging as the moon and stars blurred around him. He didn''t know what was happening or where he was going, only that he was free-falling into the unknown.


    As he hurtled through the sky, a screen flashed before his eyes, stopping him mid-panic.


    Welcome to the World of Despair


    Your task: Protect the child born in the slums of the Western Union.


    Name: Rade


    Rade possesses the constitution of the Ethereal Moon, granting him otherworldly powers on every full moon. His senses heighten, and his strength skyrockets. But he is just a child.


    Your mission is to protect Rade from ''The Baby,'' a cruel organization that captures gifted children and babies for unspeakable experiments. These experiments are beyond human imagination. Help the young hero destroy this organization and save every child from a life of misery and doom.


    Time limit: 1 month


    Failure will result in your dismissal from the Plot Armor Agency and immediate banishment to the Abyss. Rade will live a life of suffering and die if you fail.


    Reward: 1,000 Int Coins and a Save Pass


    Note: You do not currently have a Save Pass. Without one, failure means there are no second chances. Tread carefully.


    His mind raced as he read through the mission details. The name "The Baby" sent a chill down his spine. He was supposed to protect a child named Rade, who was apparently some kind of superhuman on full moons. But this wasn''t just a baby story¡ªit was far worse. Children were being experimented on, tortured by an organization that was as cruel as it was twisted. This was way more than he had bargained for.


    He was still falling, but something changed. His panic began to fade as his mind sharpened. Another window popped up in front of him.


    Plot Armor Genius Activated.


    Suddenly, everything clicked into place. His brain worked on overdrive, processing his situation with crystal clarity. He could do this. He just had to protect a kid and destroy the organization. As horrible as it sounded, maybe it wouldn''t be as impossible as it seemed.


    The wind that had been roaring in his ears suddenly went silent. He blinked, his mind pulling him back to reality. His body had stopped falling. Confused, he looked around, realizing he wasn''t plummeting through the air anymore. He was standing on it¡ªfloating as if the sky had turned into solid ground.


    He hesitated, carefully stepping forward. The air held him, firm beneath his feet. "What the hell¡­" he muttered to himself, still trying to comprehend what was going on. But there wasn''t time to think. He had a mission now.


    Save Rade. Destroy The Baby. He had one month. No plot armor to save him, no backup plan. And failure meant far more than just getting fired¡ªit meant being tossed into the Abyss.


    But for now, he was alive. The world waited below him, and the story was just beginning.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    As he floated there, trying to make sense of what he''d just been thrown into, another window popped up in front of him.


    "Here are the Skills you''ll need to add plot armor to Rade and help him survive this hellish world," the message began.


    He blinked, his heart racing. Maybe this wouldn''t be so bad after all. The system seemed to be giving him something. He read on:


    Time Freeze : "You can stop time to add plot armor. While time is stopped, only you can move and act. You are completely invisible in this world. No one knows who you are, and no one can see or notice anything you do. However, you cannot stay more than 500 meters away from the MC, Rade. You can move freely in the world during time stop to add plot armor as long as it makes sense within the story. Remember, plot armor only works if it follows some logic. If it completely contradicts reality, the plot armor will fail."


    He smirked at the sarcastic tone in the last sentence. "Of course, I don''t get the all-powerful plot armor," he muttered. "It''s gotta be grounded in some form of reality." He imagined himself giving Rade the ability to fly just because he felt like it¡ªyeah, that wouldn''t fly. Literally.


    The window continued:


    Additional Features: (Locked due to temporary employee status and low authentication.)


    You''ll unlock more Skills once you prove you''re not an utter failure.


    The sarcastic tone of the system rubbed him the wrong way, but he couldn''t deny that having time-stopping powers gave him a leg up. It wasn''t much, but it was something. Now, all he had to do was rewrite Rade''s story in a way that didn''t contradict the "reality" of this messed-up world of despair. If he failed, not only would he lose his job and get tossed into the Abyss, but poor Rade would face a life of unspeakable torment and eventually die.


    "Great," he muttered. "Just perfect."


    He glanced at the floating window again, his mind racing. He could move through time and space while being invisible, but only if he stuck close to Rade. And plot armor only worked if it made sense within the story''s twisted logic. That meant no pulling off stupid, godlike saves unless he could somehow justify them.


    "Okay," he whispered to himself. "I just have to rewrite the story, make it fit, and not get caught."


    Another sarcastic message flashed:


    Now, please rewrite the story in a way that suits you best. Don''t screw it up.


    He gritted his teeth. "I get it, okay?" He closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. This was his story to rewrite now, whether he liked it or not. Time to make it work¡ªbefore everything fell apart.


    As everything clicked into place about what he had to do, he stood there for a moment, absorbing the weight of his mission. He had to protect Rade, the child with the Ethereal Moon constitution, from the terrifying organization known as "The Baby." His job? To stop them from capturing and experimenting on the child.


    He had plot armor abilities, sure, but there were strict limitations. He could stop time, move unseen, and remain invisible¡ªbut only if he stayed within 500 meters of Rade. If I can''t go far from him, then Rade must be nearby, he thought as his Plot Armor Genius trait kicked in, his mind sharpening like a blade.


    The air smelled fresher here, nothing like the city smog I''d been used to. No hint of exhaust fumes or the staleness of modern pollution, just a cool breeze carrying the scent of something old, natural¡ªlike wet earth after rain, mixed with the faint sweetness of wood burning somewhere far off. It was almost peaceful, which was a weird contrast to everything else going on. The cobbled streets were neat, and the flickering gas lamps bathed everything in this soft glow, making the place feel kind of serene¡ªif you ignored the tension bubbling underneath.


    I floated through the air, taking it all in. It was like stepping into a period drama set in Victorian England¡ªminus the plague and grimy teeth, of course. People bustled about, minding their own business, hopping in and out of taverns, and filling the quiet alleys with drunken laughter. There was something almost¡­ charming about it. It was like the kind of place you''d read about in a storybook, where the most exciting thing was some scandalous affair or a midnight duel. But the energy here was something else¡ªlike there was a layer of chaos just itching to break loose.


    And then, one building caught my eye.


    It wasn''t just another tavern. No, this one had way more people coming and going¡ªpacked to the brim, like the kind of place you''d go for a bit more than just a pint. Something about it seemed off, though. Curiosity got the best of me (as usual), and I floated toward the second-floor windows, trying to get a peek at what was going on inside. That''s when I heard it.


    Soft. Rhythmic. Sounds.


    I inched closer, trying to figure it out. And then¡­ it hit me.


    "Ahh¡­ ahh¡­ haaa¡­"


    His face flushed red in an instant. Wait¡­ is that¡ª? He couldn''t help but move closer to the window, and what he saw made his eyes go wide. Inside the room, bodies were entangled in an unmistakable act, their movements slow and deliberate, accompanied by soft gasps and moans of pleasure.


    "Oh, come on," I muttered, my face heating up like a furnace. Those kind of sounds. The unmistakable gasps and groans of pleasure, echoing through the night. And it wasn''t just one room either¡ªnope, practically every window on the second floor had the same show going on. A brothel. Just my luck.


    I tried to back away, but the noises only got louder, more detailed. My brain? Scrambling. My body? Betraying me in ways I did not need right now. Seriously? Now''s the time to have a "moment"? My face was burning as I clutched my lower half, mentally screaming at my body to stop.


    "Focus, man. You''ve got a job to do." I muttered, shaking myself out of it. I needed to find Rade, not get tangled up in some sleazy side quest. But it was like my brain was playing tricks on me, replaying every little sound, reminding me just how human I still was, even in this weird floating ghost form.


    And then, out of nowhere, I heard something that made the whole situation about ten times worse¡ªa child''s voice. Clear. Innocent. Completely out of place in the middle of all this debauchery.

 Reality

    The sound of the child''s scream hit him like a lightning bolt, cutting through the haze of confusion and disbelief. He immediately snapped out of his daze, heart pounding in his chest, and rushed toward the source of the scream. Floating through the dark, misty air, he darted toward an alley just beyond the crowded building. The closer he got, the more intense the pit in his stomach grew.


    As he approached, the scene that unfolded in front of him made his blood run cold.


    A boy, no older than six or seven, sat on the ground, trembling uncontrollably, his small hands clutching his sister''s lifeless body. His crimson-red eyes were swollen from crying, his face streaked with dirt and tears. His hair was jagged, sticking up in wild spikes, matted with dust. The clothes he wore were nothing more than rags¡ªtorn, tattered, and barely hanging onto his frail, malnourished body. He looked like a beggar, abandoned and forgotten by the world.


    But that wasn''t the worst of it.


    Lying in front of him, her body twisted in a grotesque way, was his older sister. She was naked, her skin marred with bruises and cuts. The signs of torture were unmistakable¡ªher once-beautiful body now a canvas of cruelty and abuse. Her lifeless form seemed too fragile, too broken. She had been through hell, and it showed in every gash and bruise. The cruelty of it was overwhelming, and even from a distance, he could feel the weight of the horror that had befallen her.


    Her eyes were closed, her face pale, but there was something strange¡ªa small, peaceful smile resting on her lips. As if, in her last moments, she had seen something, or someone that brought her a sense of comfort. Maybe it was Rade. Maybe it was a final vision of escape from the misery she had endured.


    The boy was wailing, his sobs tearing through the air as he clung to his sister''s cold body. He was shaking, his little hands gripping her as though, somehow, he could bring her back to life. The sound of his crying was unbearable¡ªa mixture of grief, rage, and hopelessness all rolled into one heart-shattering noise.


    The MC, watching from above, floated closer. His body shook as he approached, trying to hold on to a small shred of hope that maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªthe girl was still alive. He kneeled next to her, hesitantly placing two fingers on her neck, checking for a pulse. But there was nothing. She was gone. Long gone.


    His stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat as the brutal reality of the situation hit him like a freight train. He turned away from her body and started vomiting, his entire body shaking with disgust, sorrow, and anger. His mind was racing, struggling to process the sheer horror of what he was seeing. The boy, Rade, had just lost his only family¡ªhis sister¡ªthe one person who had likely protected him in this cruel world.


    The MC''s eyes turned bloodshot with rage. He clenched his fists, trembling as the weight of what he was seeing crushed down on him. This wasn''t just a story anymore. This was a nightmare¡ªa nightmare with no escape. The brutality of it was so real, so gut-wrenching, that it left him gasping for breath.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    He stared at the boy, who had collapsed against his sister''s body, weeping uncontrollably. It broke something inside him, a part of him that had never truly been touched before. The world of "The Baby" wasn''t just a cruel one. It was a world filled with unimaginable suffering¡ªwhere no one, not even children, were spared from the horrors of human cruelty.


    What kind of monster could do this? he thought, his mind spiraling into a dark place. The brutality, the torture, the sheer inhumanity of what had happened to Rade''s sister was beyond anything he could have imagined.


    He had been thrown into this world thinking it was just another story¡ªa series of tasks to complete, a simple game to win. But this¡­ this was different. The reality of it slammed into him harder than he could''ve ever anticipated. This wasn''t just fiction. It felt real. It was real. And he wasn''t sure he could handle it.


    Tears welled up in his own eyes, but he forced them back, trying to stay strong. For the boy. For Rade. He had to pull it together. He had to help Rade. But deep down, he knew the scars of this night would never leave him. The image of Rade''s sister, broken and abused, lying there with a final, tragic smile on her face, would haunt him forever.


    He wasn''t ready for this. But he didn''t have a choice. Reality had hit him like a truck, and there was no way to turn back now.


    As he turned away from Rade''s lifeless sister, wiping the bile from his mouth, he noticed something in the darkness of the alley. A hand. It was barely visible, hidden by the shadows, but unmistakably there¡ªpale, cold, and motionless. His heart skipped a beat, dread creeping into his chest. He had thought the horror was over, but something told him he was wrong. Very wrong.


    He stepped cautiously past Rade and his sister''s body, moving deeper into the alley. The shadows swallowed him whole, the air growing thick with the stench of death and decay. And then, the scene unfolded before him.


    It was like he had stepped into hell itself.


    Bodies. Piles and piles of women''s bodies, strewn across the filthy alley floor. They were of every age¡ªsome young, barely teens, others older, withered, but all naked, bruised, and battered beyond recognition. Their skin was marred with the marks of abuse, their faces twisted in expressions of agony. The sight was so grotesque, so brutally inhuman, that even the most hardened souls would be shattered by it.


    The MC''s breath caught in his throat as his eyes scanned the horror in front of him. He had seen violence in movies, played bloody video games, and watched the darkest parts of human nature unfold on screen. But this¡­ this was different. This wasn''t some fictional nightmare or gore-filled horror flick. This was real. This was beyond anything his mind could handle.


    His legs wobbled, and his stomach churned violently. His body gave out before his mind could catch up, and he collapsed onto the ground, retching uncontrollably. His insides twisted, his gut felt like it was being shredded apart as the bile rose up from his throat. He heaved again and again, rolling on the ground as the brutal scene imprinted itself into his mind.


    What kind of sick world is this? he thought, eyes burning from the tears that streamed down his face, mixed with vomit. The image of those bodies, of Rade''s sister smiling in death, haunted him. His heart was crushed¡ªno, ripped out¡ªand set on fire by the sheer cruelty of it all.


    He couldn''t stop the pain. It flowed through him like poison, mixing with his anger, his sorrow, his disbelief. He couldn''t tear his eyes away from the mangled bodies. The more he looked, the more he felt like something was tearing him apart from the inside. No movie, no nightmare, no evil mind from the darkest horror stories could create something like this. Not even the likes of Hannibal Lecter could stand before this and remain unscathed. Anyone would be reduced to vomiting and despair.


    After what felt like hours of agony, the vomit, the heaving, and the tears stopped. But the pain, the anger¡ªthose never stopped. His heart felt like it had been ripped apart and crushed under the weight of this cruel world. His eyes were bloodshot, and he could barely see through the stinging tears. Every breath was a reminder of the suffering he''d just witnessed.


    But something inside him shifted. Beneath the agony and despair, a fire began to burn. He stood, wobbling on his feet, his body weak but his soul filled with something new¡ªa deep, unbreakable determination. He looked up at the sky, eyes still red, and clenched his fists.


    "I swear," he whispered through clenched teeth, voice shaking with conviction. "I will save this world. I will burn them all. Every single one of them¡ªno matter where they hide, no matter how deep they crawl into the depths of hell. I''ll drag them out, and they will regret ever being born."


    He would make them pay. Every last one of them.


    There was no turning back now.

 Pitiful Existence

    The MC stood there, his body frozen with dread as he watched Rade, the small boy dragging the weight of his dead sister behind him. Each step was a struggle, every movement a painful reminder of what had been lost. Rade''s frail shoulders barely supported the limp body, his sister''s legs dragging lifelessly across the dirt.


    The boy''s face was an empty canvas, hollow eyes staring forward, devoid of hope, devoid of life. His sister was gone. Her laughter, her warmth¡ªgone. And yet, Rade clung to her with desperate hands, refusing to let go, as if his sheer will could pull her back to life.


    The MC hovered in the air, silently watching, his own chest tightening with a mixture of helplessness and guilt. This isn''t what I signed up for... he thought bitterly, but the thought felt shallow, out of place. This was beyond plotlines, beyond shitty missions. It was... life. Or death. Or something far worse, a space in between, where despair became a living, breathing thing.


    Rade''s small, trembling hands clutched at his sister''s body as he finally reached their broken-down home on the outskirts of town. It wasn''t much¡ªa house that had barely survived time''s cruelty. The roof was caved in, the walls crumbling. But for a boy like Rade, it was enough. Enough to shield him and his sister from the rain. Enough to call home.


    He gently lowered her to the ground, her body slumping against the worn wooden wall, and then he sat beside her. The silence that followed was deafening. The only sound was the wind, soft and gentle, as if it, too, was mourning.


    MC swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. Do something. Help him. But how? He couldn''t touch the boy. Couldn''t change the script. He could only watch, like the voyeuristic ghost he had become, powerless to do anything but observe the boy''s world collapse around him.


    Rade''s tiny frame shuddered. He rested his head on his sister''s cold lap, as if pretending she was still alive, still able to comfort him, still able to run her fingers through his hair like she used to. His small hand rose to his head, patting it softly in an imitation of the way she used to soothe him. And then, his voice¡ªa fragile, broken thing¡ªbegan to sing.


    "Hush, little baby, don''t you cry¡­ Mama''s gonna buy you a mockingbird¡­"


    The words barely escaped his throat, cracked and hoarse. The MC winced, feeling a deep, aching pain in his chest that he hadn''t known he was capable of feeling. He watched as Rade sang the lullaby, the same one his sister had always sung to him when their bellies were empty, when the world was too harsh. It was a whisper of a song, filled with longing, with the futile hope that maybe, just maybe, this was all a dream.


    But it wasn''t a dream. She was gone. The only light in his world had been extinguished, leaving behind a chasm of darkness.


    Rade''s sobs grew louder, more guttural, until they morphed into something raw and primal. He screamed. He screamed so loud that the universe should have broken under the weight of it. Every ounce of his pain, his anguish, his hopelessness was poured into that scream, as if he could tear open reality itself with the sound.


    The MC hovered above, tears blurring his vision. Fuck. This. He clenched his fists. What was the point of having "Plot Armor Genius" if it couldn''t stop this? What good was a system if it let a kid suffer like this? What had he done to deserve this level of misery?


    Then, just as suddenly as the screaming began, it stopped. Rade sat in silence once more, his small fists digging into the dirt beside him. His voice, now barely a whisper, trembled with a mix of rage and despair. "I''ll make them pay. A hundredfold. A thousandfold¡­ I''ll make them all pay."


    The MC''s stomach twisted. He could hear the weight behind those words, the dark determination in the boy''s voice. He''s lost everything. And when someone loses everything, they become capable of anything.


    Rade laid his sister down on the ground, his hands trembling as he began digging. There were no shovels. No tools. Nothing but the raw determination of a boy who refused to leave her lying in the open. His small fingers clawed at the earth, nails cracking, blood smearing across the dirt. He dug, and dug, and dug. Hours passed. The sky shifted from the black of night to the pale light of dawn. The boy kept digging.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    MC floated above, watching every agonizing moment. It was like time had slowed down, like the universe wanted to prolong the suffering. What kind of twisted story is this? He wondered. What kind of sick, twisted author writes this kind of shit?


    Finally, the grave was deep enough. Rade placed his sister''s body inside, wiping his eyes with the back of his dirt-streaked hand. For a moment, he stood there, staring at the broken body in the ground. Then he disappeared into the house and returned, holding a single, delicate white flower¡ªjust like the one he had placed in her hands before.


    Kneeling beside her, he placed the flower in her hand once more and gently folded her fingers around it. Then, slowly, painfully, he began to cover her with earth again.


    By the time he finished, the sun was fully up. The grave was nothing more than a mound of freshly disturbed soil, but to Rade, it was everything. It was the final resting place of his last family member, the last piece of his heart.


    Rade stood over the grave, his lips trembling. "May you live well in heaven... and I... I''ll join you soon."


    No. The MC''s blood ran cold. No, no, no. Those weren''t just words of sorrow. They were a declaration. A final decision. He''s not planning on living.


    Rade turned and walked back toward the house, his steps slow and deliberate. The MC followed, heart hammering in his chest. No¡­ He can''t be¡ª


    The boy emerged from the house a moment later, a knife gripped tightly in his small hand.


    Fuck. Fuck, no. The MC''s mind spiraled into sheer panic. He''s going to end it.


    His hands twitched, and then¡ªred. A red flash exploded in his vision as a system window popped up.


    Caution: The protagonist of this world, Rade, is in danger.


    Plot Armor Genius activated.


    Time froze. The knife hovered inches from Rade''s throat, the boy''s small hand trembling as it inched closer. No. Not like this.


    The MC''s breath was shallow, panic taking over. What the hell do I do now?


    The world had frozen, like a photograph suspended in time, yet the MC''s mind raced, heart pounding like a drum inside his chest. How do I stop him? The knife was still inches from Rade''s throat, the boy''s small, trembling hand wrapped around the hilt. Damn it.


    He looked around the room. It was dead silent, and time itself had ground to a halt. The air was thick, frozen mid-breath, and yet he could feel his pulse hammering as if the universe had singled him out, given him this terrible responsibility.


    He had seconds¡ªno, less than that¡ªbefore time resumed. How the hell do I get through to him?


    The MC darted through the room, rifling through anything and everything, but all he found were broken pieces of furniture and old, abandoned belongings. Useless. Completely useless.


    "Fuck!" he yelled into the void. His voice echoed in the suspended silence, the only sound in this frozen world. There has to be something. He glanced back at Rade, whose small hand still hovered with that cursed knife in it.


    There''s always something, right? This is the part where the hero steps in and saves the day, right?


    The boy''s hollow eyes haunted him. There was no hero here¡ªjust a little boy who had lost everything, and a panicking, desperate MC who had no idea what the hell he was doing.


    MC floated back over to Rade, hovering in front of the boy''s face, searching for any glimmer of life in those eyes, anything he could latch onto. But there was nothing¡ªjust grief, despair, and resignation.


    The system''s red warning glared at him again:


    Protagonist in immediate danger. Prevent or accept consequence.


    Prevent or accept? What the hell kind of choice is that? He had no idea how to prevent it, but accept wasn''t even an option. Not if it meant watching Rade die.


    MC''s hands trembled as he moved to Rade''s side. He floated down beside the boy, his mind buzzing with panic. Think, you dumbass!


    Suddenly, his eyes caught something¡ªa small glass of water on the windowsill. Next to it, a pair of delicate white flowers¡ªthe same kind Rade had placed in his sister''s hands.


    The flowers. That''s it!


    The MC shot toward the window, his mind working overtime. If I can just make him see the flowers, maybe it''ll break him out of this suicidal spiral. Maybe it''ll remind him of his sister, of why he can''t give up.


    He grabbed a handful of dirt and worms from outside the house, carefully placing them atop the flowers. The plan was simple: attract the sparrows nearby, let them knock the glass over, and create a distraction¡ªsomething to snap Rade out of his dark trance.


    This has to work. The sparrows eyed the worms but flew away before even noticing them.


    With everything in place, he resumed time, holding his breath as the world came back to life.


    The sparrows flapped their wings, ready to move¡­ but instead of noticing the worms, they flew away, completely oblivious to the carefully laid trap. The worms blended in too well with the flowers, unnoticed by the birds.


    His heart sank as his plan crumbled in an instant.


    MC cursed under his breath. Goddamn birds... what do I do now?


    The knife was still in Rade''s hands, inching closer to his neck. The MC''s eyes widened in horror as he saw the cold, sharp edge of the blade nearing the boy''s skin, his small hand trembling with grief.


    No¡­


    The sparrows had failed. The distraction hadn''t worked. And now, there was nothing standing between Rade and his final, irreversible act.


    The MC''s pulse raced, every second feeling like an eternity as the knife came closer, closer to the boy''s neck. His breath caught in his throat as the blade glinted in the pale light, so close now that the moment seemed inevitable.


    Time was running out.


    He had failed.


    The knife hovered just millimeters from Rade''s throat, and the world around the MC stood still once more¡ªnot in the frozen sense of time, but in the gut-wrenching realization that there was nothing more he could do.


    And then, the knife moved...

 Truth of This World

    Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down a long, grand corridor. Not quite running, but fast¡ªalmost like a rush. The corridor was eerily pristine, stretching endlessly, giving off an otherworldly vibe. The polished floors reflected the faint glow of chandeliers above, and the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting forgotten battles and unknown worlds.


    A pair of beautiful legs, toned and swift, darted down the hall. The woman wore shorts and a simple top beneath a half-jacket, her every movement full of energy. Her short, tousled hair bounced as she moved, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She had a tomboyish charm about her, the kind of confidence that drew attention. She reached the end of the corridor and burst through the large doors with a loud thud, the sound like thunder reverberating through the space.


    "Scarlet!" she shouted with enthusiasm, storming into the room.


    The room was neat, almost unnervingly so. A single bed, made perfectly without a wrinkle, sat against one wall. A simple desk, a lone lamp casting a soft light on an open book. A long mirror stood to one side, and a wardrobe held what few clothes there were. Minimalist, cold, yet organized.


    Seated on the chair by the desk was Scarlet, legs crossed, a book in hand. She looked up slowly, her eyes betraying a mixture of surprise and boredom. Her every movement was poised, elegant, and she exuded the grace of someone highborn¡ªa woman of privilege, of power. Her raven hair, neatly tied back, framed her sharp features. She was the picture of control.


    The newcomer, a young woman named Jonna Miles, didn''t hesitate to rush forward, flinging her arms around Scarlet from behind. "How are you, Scar?" Jonna beamed, her playful tone echoing through the quiet room.


    Scarlet, still seated, didn''t flinch, though her expression hardened slightly. She stood up, slipping out of Jonna''s embrace with a graceful, practiced motion, and bowed formally. "Welcome, Fifth Manager Jonna Miles. How may I assist you?" she said, her tone cold and professional.


    Jonna wrinkled her nose in mock annoyance, her tomboyish demeanor unshaken. "Why so formal, Scar? I hate it when you act like this." She leaned lazily against Scarlet''s shoulder, her energy bright and carefree.


    Scarlet, ever meticulous, brushed off her jacket and straightened her skirt, as if dusting off an invisible speck. Her eyes darkened for a brief second before her tone shifted to something sharper. "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice cold and bossy, like a ruler questioning a servant.


    Jonna blinked in surprise, then broke into a mischievous grin. "Ahh, there''s my Scarlet," she laughed, leaning back. "I heard you got assigned recently."


    Scarlet didn''t meet her gaze, instead walking over to her desk and resuming her reading. Her voice was tinged with disdain. "Yes. Assigned to some trash bag," she muttered, her lips curling slightly, as if even thinking about it disgusted her.


    Jonna raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Where is he?" she asked, scanning the room, curious.


    "He''s already chosen a story and gone with it," Scarlet replied with a smirk, her voice dripping with sarcasm.


    Jonna''s eyes widened, her excitement shifting to surprise. "What?! He picked a story already? But¡­ wasn''t he supposed to submit something next month? The first month was just supposed to be practice!" she exclaimed. "Didn''t you tell him?"


    Scarlet''s eyes glinted with malice. "Why would I care?" she said dismissively. "If that piece of trash dies, it''s no loss to me. Let him burn for all I care."


    Jonna blinked, stunned. "Which story did he choose?" she asked cautiously, sensing that something wasn''t right.


    Scarlet''s smirk grew into a wicked grin. "He chose The Baby."


    Jonna froze. Her usually carefree demeanor evaporated as a heavy silence fell between them. Her eyes widened in shock. "The Baby? That unfinished novel? You didn''t tell him what kind of story it is, did you?" Her voice wavered. "Scar, you do know that story isn''t finished¡­ it has no ending. No one ever chooses it because it''s impossible to clear. He''ll be stuck there until the rescue team picks him up!"


    Scarlet laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "Exactly," she sneered. "And I didn''t tell him anything about it. Why would I? Let him suffer. He''s just another worthless pebble in my way."


    Jonna stood, speechless. "But¡­ that''s cruel, even for you."


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Scarlet''s eyes darkened. "I don''t care if he lives or dies. I want him to feel the agony. How dare he be assigned to me of all people? He''ll soon realize how futile his life is. I didn''t even bother teaching him how to properly use his time stop. Let him rot in that unfinished nightmare." Her lips curled into a vicious grin.


    Jonna exhaled slowly, shaking her head in disbelief. "You''re ruthless, Scar. But¡­ what if he does clear it? He''ll be the first to do so. What then?"


    Scarlet scoffed, rolling her eyes. "As if. He''s a weak, clueless fool. He''ll break long before that ever happens. I''m just enjoying the thought of him suffering¡ªstruggling with every moment, knowing he''s trapped." She smiled darkly, her words venomous.


    Jonna leaned back, crossing her arms. "Well¡­ it''s his bad luck, I guess."


    The two women laughed, chatting casually, oblivious to the cruelty they had set in motion.


    Meanwhile, far above in the sky, a lone figure sat at a small table, sipping tea. The man stirred sugar into his cup and glanced at a newspaper in his hand, the headlines blurring in the breeze. He looked out over the horizon with a calm, knowing smile.


    "Turbulent times lie ahead," he muttered quietly to himself, taking a long sip of tea, his eyes twinkling with something that could only be described as¡­ amusement.


    Just as the knife was about to press against Rade''s neck, a piercing sound shattered the silence¡ªa glass hitting the ground, rolling as the two identical white flowers tumbled out. The sharp clink of the glass cut through the quiet like a lifeline. Rade''s eyes flicked up, and for a moment, his hand froze. His grip on the knife slackened, his movements halted by the strange noise.


    The flowers¡ªwhite, fragile, delicate¡ªrolled towards him, mirroring the one he had placed in his sister''s hands. His breath caught, and his body went numb. The knife slipped from his hand, falling to the floor with a dull clatter.


    Tears began to pour from his eyes as he collapsed to the ground, his body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. He clutched the flowers in his small, bloodstained hands, curling into himself, crying until his voice became hoarse. The MC, watching from the shadows, exhaled in deep relief. His heart had been pounding in his chest, sure that he had just failed. But somehow, in this world, a miracle had happened.


    How did the glass fall? The thought nagged at him for a brief moment, but he brushed it aside. He didn''t care. Rade was alive. Maybe his luck had finally kicked in.


    Days passed. The MC continued to follow Rade, floating above, observing him as the boy moved through the world of despair. Ten days had slipped by since the incident, and the MC had spent every moment processing everything he''d learned about this broken world. The full moon came every three days, and each time, there was a noticeable change in Rade''s behavior. His senses heightened, his movements sharp, but underneath that power was a boy spiraling deeper into his grief and anger.


    Every morning, without fail, Rade wandered the town''s alleyways, searching for any sign, any clue, that might lead him to the people who had destroyed his life. He was convinced that The Baby, the organization that had tortured and killed his sister, was behind everything. And he wouldn''t stop until he had his vengeance.


    The MC, though, found himself lost. He had no idea how to complete this story. The weight of his mission was pressing down on him as each day slipped by. He knew he was running out of time. And in the midst of all this, he couldn''t stop himself from visiting the brothels to escape reality for a brief moment, watching the depravity unfold before him, feeling disgusted with himself afterward but not knowing what else to do.


    Then, one day, high noon, something changed.


    The MC was floating on the roof of the broken house, deep in thought, when a noise below caught his attention. Two men had arrived, their steps heavy and deliberate. He floated down to observe more closely, feeling an unfamiliar tension creeping up his spine. Rade was hiding under the table in the kitchen, his small body trembling, but his eyes sharp with fear and anger.


    The two men looked dangerous¡ªboth with the same tattoo on their backs, a half-cross. It caught the MC''s attention. The men stood near the doorway, talking in low voices, but the sound carried.


    "Yeah, that bitch died before we were done with her," one of them grunted. "I heard she had a little brother, though. Maybe we can snatch him up. The boss might be pleased."


    Rade''s eyes widened in realization. These were the men responsible. These were the ones who had tortured and killed his sister. His breath hitched, and tears welled up in his eyes again¡ªtears of rage, not sorrow. He reached for the knife he had stashed under the table, his hands shaking as he wrapped his fingers around the handle.


    The MC, watching from above, felt panic bubble up inside him. Don''t do it, kid. Don''t be stupid. You can''t win this fight. Don''t¡ª But no one could hear him. No one ever could.


    With a scream of fury, Rade charged at the men, the knife held tightly in his small hands. He slashed wildly, managing to cut one of them across the hand. "Ouch, this little piece of shit!" the man yelled, clutching his bleeding hand.


    The men turned on Rade, surrounding him, amused at the sight of the furious boy. "So, you''re that bitch''s brother, huh? Capture him. The boss will be thrilled."


    Rade''s eyes were red with rage, his body trembling as he pointed the knife at them. "You did this to my sister," he hissed, his voice shaking with fury.


    The men chuckled darkly, one of them stepping closer. "Let me tell you something, kid," he sneered. "Your sister¡­ tasted amazing. Soft, tender. We had a lot of fun with her. One by one, until she couldn''t scream anymore." He licked his lips with a sick grin, his words dripping with sadistic pleasure. "I was gonna go for one more round, but¡­ well, she didn''t make it. What a waste."


    Rade''s whole body shook with rage. His grip on the knife tightened, but his hands were trembling. The MC''s nerves were on fire, every fiber of his being screaming to help, to stop this nightmare from unfolding any further. But time was running out. He had to act.


    Plot Armor Genius activated.


    The MC snapped into action, stopping time just as the men began to move toward the boy. His eyes darted around the room, frantically searching for something¡ªanything¡ªthat could help.


    There it was. The broken glass from the night Rade almost took his own life. It was still scattered on the floor, untouched. The MC grabbed the shards and carefully placed them between the men''s feet, setting the stage. He hovered the knife just a little higher, aiming it at the right spot.


    This has to work.


    He resumed time, holding his breath.


    The men rushed toward Rade, but their feet caught on the glass, slipping. One of them stumbled, falling straight into the pointed knife. The blade slashed across his throat, blood spraying from the wound as he clutched his neck in shock. "W-Where did this glass come from?" he gasped, his voice garbled as blood poured from his mouth. He collapsed, gurgling, and died within minutes.


    The second man, enraged, lunged at Rade. "You little bastard, I''ll kill you!" he roared. Rade''s hand shot up, driving the knife into the man''s eye. The man screamed in agony, clutching at his bloody eye socket, his rage turning into a feral howl.


    The MC was about to stop time again when a red warning window flashed in front of him.


    Warning: The story''s main turning point cannot be altered. You cannot interfere.


    Panic surged through him. He couldn''t stop time. He couldn''t protect the boy. What am I supposed to do?!


    The second man, blind with rage and pain, charged at Rade, knife in hand. The boy stumbled, tripping over the body of the first man, falling to the ground. The man slammed the hilt of the knife into Rade''s back, knocking him unconscious.


    The MC''s heart sank as he watched, helpless, his body trembling with fear and anger.

 The Cell

    [? NSFW scene ? ]


    There was nothing but darkness. It was cramped, suffocating, and the air was thick with the scent of blood¡ªold and fresh. Rade stirred, his small body bound tightly in a sack, every movement restricted. Panic gripped him, the oppressive weight of the situation slamming into him like a hammer. He had been captured¡ªtaken by the same men who had taunted him, the same ones who were responsible for his sister''s brutal end.


    Above them, the MC floated, helplessly watching as the nightmare unfolded. His face was etched with disgust and distress, his mind racing for solutions. What can I do? He frantically searched for any way to intervene, but the realization hit him again: Plot armor has limits.


    "I can''t change the story... I''m not the writer, just the guy who pushes plot armor when things spiral into hell," he muttered, pacing frenetically in the void above. "Fuck my luck." The habit surfaced¡ªhis hands subconsciously rubbing his balls in frustration, a pointless attempt to soothe his nerves. But it did nothing to calm him. This was beyond him, and he knew it.


    Meanwhile, Rade''s breathing grew faster as he regained consciousness in the suffocating sack. The darkness was all-consuming, and his heart pounded in his chest like a caged animal. The sack reeked of sweat, fear, and blood. Each time the man carrying him jostled the bag, Rade winced as pain shot through his body. He was helpless, bound, and trapped in a nightmare he couldn''t wake from.


    The man cursed, his voice dripping with fury. "You little shit," he spat, the sound of his boots scraping the uneven stone floor echoing through the air. His anger was palpable, seething. Rade''s earlier defiance had cost him an eye, and now, the man was hell-bent on revenge. He kicked the sack hard, sending Rade sprawling within it, his small body trembling with pain. "Wait till the boss gets his hands on you."


    Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through Rade''s body. He bit down on his lip, trying to stifle any noise that might provoke another brutal kick. His mind, disoriented and frantic, tried to grasp what had happened, but all he could think about was her¡ªhis sister. Her face, her last breath. The pain twisted deeper in his gut.


    MC hovered, watching the scene unfold, his frustration boiling. Damn it, damn it... He knew he couldn''t alter the course directly, but the helplessness gnawed at him. His frustration turned to desperation as the man carrying Rade finally reached his destination¡ªa rundown tavern on the far edge of the city. It looked like it had crawled out from the bowels of some forgotten world. The wooden beams sagged under years of decay, the windows were fogged with filth, and the whole place seemed to thrum with an unspoken menace.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Inside, the air was heavy, filled with stale smoke and sweat. A few patrons sat in dark corners, their faces obscured, their conversations muted and secretive. At the bar, the bartender polished glasses with a slow, mechanical motion. His eyes flicked toward the door briefly before settling back on the dirty glass in his hand, completely uninterested.


    The man hauling Rade tossed a coin onto the counter, a twisted grin spreading across his scarred face. "Got something for the boss," he muttered, the half-cross on the coin gleaming in the dim light.


    The bartender barely glanced at the coin before jerking his head toward the back. "Room''s in the back. Boss is with a guest." His voice was a monotone, devoid of any care or concern. "Don''t disturb him."


    "Yeah, well, he''s gonna want to see what I''ve got." The man didn''t wait for permission. He shoved his way through the hidden door, dragging Rade along like a piece of luggage.


    The hallway stretched long and narrow, with doors lining each side. From behind each one, dark, disturbing noises seeped into the air¡ªlow murmurs, moans of pain, and twisted laughter. The hallway reeked of unspeakable acts. Behind each door lay a different brand of horror, a place where men came to indulge their darkest desires.


    As the man reached the end of the hallway, he was stopped by two guards standing before a door. "You can''t go in," one of the guards growled. "Boss is busy with a guest."


    "I''ve got something important for him. Trust me, he''s gonna want to see this," the man argued.


    "I don''t care what you''ve got. He doesn''t want to be disturbed," the guard snapped.


    While they argued, the MC floated closer, his attention drawn to one of the nearby rooms. Curiosity and dread mingled as he peered inside.


    The room was small, with a dirty bed and a single drawer beside it. On the bed, a young girl was tied up, her body stretched in a humiliating doggy style position, she was naked nothing to hide her pure body, her wrists bound to the front of the bed. An old, fat man stood over her, grinning as he slapped her bare skin, reveling in her pain. The old men streching her legs wide open so he can clearly see every hidden part of her body that she protected her whole life, he open his mouth with wide grin and starts licking her like she was something to eat,


    "Now you understand, don''t you, bitch?" the man hissed, his breath ragged as he spat down at her. "You''ll pay for disobeying me."


    Her chastity was no longer, the fat ugly bastard started licking putting his fingers in her vagina smirking laughing, "How does it feel, your body is really reacting to my fingers quite well, who would have thought that you were such a whore who loves to stick other peoples finger. Don''t worry the main thing is still waiting I''ll make you feel soo good, that you will never try to even think of disobeying me. "


    The girl''s face was wet with tears, her eyes wide with terror as she struggled against the bonds. Her mouth was gagged with a dirty cloth, muffling her screams, and her body convulsed whenever he put his finger in her vagina, the red marks on her skin growing darker. Her tear-streaked face contorted in agony as the man''s saliva dripped onto her, and she cried silently, her sobs echoing in the back of her throat.


    The MC''s stomach turned. This place¡­ it''s hell, he thought, his mind reeling. He wanted to look away, but he couldn''t. The cruelty, the suffering¡ªit was too much. But he couldn''t do anything to stop it.


    A part of him wanted to believe there was a way out¡ªsome trick of the plot, some twist that would bring a sliver of hope. But standing in that hallway, surrounded by the echo of screams and the stench of suffering, he knew... this wasn''t that kind of story.


    It was only going to get worse.

 The Cell (2)

    [? NSFW scenes]


    The MC hovered in the air, helpless and nauseous, his eyes fixed on the horror unfolding below. The dim light from the dirty, flickering lamp cast grotesque shadows against the cracked walls, but none were more monstrous than the sight in front of him. The girl lay on the filthy bed, her body stretched taut by the ropes biting into her wrists, legs spread wide in a degrading position, it was a doggy style position that MC always had seen in P*n. The fat, ugly man above her moved with a twisted sense of pleasure, his grins widening with every whimper that escaped the girl''s gagged mouth.


    Her face was wet with tears, her body trembling in fear and humiliation. The air was thick, suffocating, filled with the rancid stench of sweat and decay. She shuddered, every nerve in her body screaming for release, for an end to this torture, but there was no escape. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths, her wide eyes darting around the room as if searching for something¡ªsomeone¡ªto save her. There was nothing. Only pain.


    Why is this happening? she thought, her mind clouded by agony and despair. I just wanted to live. I didn''t do anything wrong. Her body convulsed as the man continued his violation, his heavy breathing filling the small room, overpowering her muffled cries. Each slap of his hand against her bare skin sent shockwaves of pain through her body, leaving red welts on her flesh that pulsed with a stinging heat. She winced, trying to pull away, but the ropes held her fast, biting deeper into her wrists and ankles.


    The MC clenched his fists, his entire being shaking with revulsion. He had seen horrors before, witnessed atrocities that would haunt any man''s dreams in modren TV shows, but this¡­this was beyond anything he could have prepared for. His stomach churned, bile rising in his throat. He wanted to intervene, to stop it, but he was nothing more than a spectator¡ªan impotent force, bound by the rules of the System he couldn''t control.


    The fat bastard let out a wheezing laugh, his thick fingers groping the girl''s delicate body with crude, greedy movements. His eyes gleamed with sick satisfaction, his lips curling into a grotesque sneer as he leaned in closer. He was enjoying every moment, savoring the power he held over her. She was nothing to him but an object, a toy to break.


    "That''s it," he whispered, his breath rancid as it hit the girl''s ear. "You feel it, don''t you? That''s pleasure. It''s written all over your face."


    The girl''s body jerked, her muffled screams growing louder. She could feel the full weight of her captor''s cruelty, and it was crushing her, soul and body. Her mind screamed for mercy, for someone to intervene, but her voice was trapped behind the dirty gag shoved deep into her mouth. She couldn''t fight back. She could only endure.


    [Explicit scene here]


    {


    The fat bastard rubbing his lil veasly dick pressing on her back with a snister grin and a laugh ''Here I come my sweetheart'' putting his raging dick in that delicate pure hearted girl who didn''t know the horrors of Men trembling shaking as he put his ugly dick in her vagina she screams violently but her voice was mumbled by the gagged in her mouth the pain she was feeling it was just an amusement for that fat bastard, he starts trashing his dick in her violently drooling like a dog not a slightly care of the pain she was feeling as her vergity was stolen from her, her whole world was crumbling in front of her like the human skin is peeling of her.


    The pain it was unimaginable nothing can describe the intensity of the sharp pain she was feeling, her insides were raging in fire screaming but that ugly bastard was feeling more amused thrashing more violently spanking her ass she was trembling every time his hand touch her skin she trembles as some lightning struck her it was really heart wrenching.


    }


    Her vision blurred from the relentless flow of tears, her thoughts spiraling into darkness. Am I going to die here? Like this? Is this what I am now? Every movement of his, every degrading whisper in her ear, chipped away at her soul. The humiliation was worse than the physical pain¡ªher dignity stripped from her, her body no longer hers to protect. It was broken, violated, and all she could do was exist in the torment.


    Above, the MC shook his head violently, his heart pounding so hard in his chest he thought it might burst. I can''t look, he told himself. I have to look away. But his eyes were glued to the scene, horror rendering him immobile, paralyzing him with guilt. He was a god in so many ways in this world, yet here, now, he was nothing but a spectator to a hell he couldn''t influence. The helplessness ate at him, clawing at his sanity. Why can''t I do something? His mind raced for a solution, but it all ended in the same bitter realization. He had no power here.


    "You''re going to remember this," the fat man growled, licking his lips with sickening pleasure. "I''ll make sure of it."


    [Explicit scene here]


    {


    He stops thrashing his dick insider her and let it out, it was a lil relief he planned before the hell he was gonna show as she started thinking maybe maybe its all over maybe she doesn''t have to endure this anymore thier was a hope a sense of relife was coming but as she indulge on those thoughts, he put his finger inside her vagina once again '' I''m gonna start again my love''. The thoughts of relife the hope it was crashed by the slow whisper on her ear, she was stuck with the reality that she can''t EXCAPE from this hell this reality of her life but it was just a start of a more horrible and cruel dream.


    That ugly bastard as he was putting his fingers on her vagina he started laughing in pleasure '' yes.. yes.. thats the face I wanna see, now I''m gonna show you real heaven'', as he said that he pull her hairs strongly with his hand making her head to face upward towards the ceiling and putting his ugly lil dick in her ass hole not in her vagina but in her asshole she screams shaking trembling eyes gone white tears wetting her whole face the pain of her body tearing apart, it was unbearable, but he didn''t stop thrashing more then ever in her ass forcing it as it was stuck on something pressing his whole body onto her reaching the deepest part of her, her brain stops it can''t process the pain that was coming to her but he was smirking laughing in pleasure humping like a dog in heat nothing more nothing less.


    }


    The girl''s body tensed under the weight of his assault, her sobs turning into strangled gasps as the pain reached its peak. The fat man grunted, his body pressing harder against her, laughing as her body convulsed involuntarily under him. His pleasure fed off her suffering, the sound of her gagged cries driving him deeper into his depravity. He was drunk on her pain, savoring every twitch of her muscles, every tear that slid down her cheeks. He reveled in the way her body responded, forced into submission, unable to escape his control.


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    "You''re mine now," he said, his voice low and menacing. "No one will save you."


    Her soul felt fractured, shattered beyond repair. The overwhelming sense of defeat settled in her chest like a heavy weight. No one will save me, she thought. This is it. I''m broken. The numbness began to set in, her mind retreating from the horror, retreating from the unbearable reality of what was happening to her. She closed her eyes, wishing for the darkness to swallow her whole, wishing for it all to end.


    [Explicit scene here]


    {


    The fat old bastard didn''t stop thier but picked an old worn out lamp from the wall and starts dripping the hot oil on her bare back and screamm ''yeahssss... How are you feelimg my love, isn''t it fantastic how you pressing your pu**y to my dick so much as the oil drips isn''t it wonderful oh yeahhh''.


    He keeps dripping the hot oil on her body thier was pure madness in his eyes nothimg can stop him from his cruelty, no on was thier to save that lil girl.


    }


    The MC felt his entire body shudder with revulsion. He wanted to scream, to tear the walls down and drag the bastard off her, but he knew he couldn''t. The rules of this world held him at bay, a bystander to an atrocity he couldn''t stop. His hands twitched in helpless fury, and the raw, sickening guilt gnawed at his insides. I''m a coward, he thought, his mind racing with self-loathing. I''m a fucking coward.


    But the fat bastard below didn''t care about anyone''s feelings but his own. His grunts filled the room, his grotesque form moving with increasing aggression as he reached the peak of his disgusting pleasure. He licked his lips, his hands gripping her skin with the force of a man completely drunk on power.


    [Explicit scene here]


    {


    He continues his assault on her putting the hot oil on her bare butt puting his lil ugly dick on her ass and when he feels bored he puts in her vagina just making sure that he will get pure pleasure and nothing else matters..


    }


    The girl had gone silent, her body limp, her spirit crushed beneath the weight of her tormentor''s cruelty. There was no fight left in her¡ªonly resignation, only a broken shell where a person had once been.


    The hallway was filled with the echoing voices of the men, their argument rising in volume. The MC, pulling himself away from the unspeakable horrors unfolding in the room behind him, floated back toward the front of the hallway, seething with anger and disgust. His chest felt tight, every nerve in his body tingling with the urge to intervene, but the brutal reality of his helplessness gnawed at him.


    I can''t stop this, he thought, grinding his teeth. I''m powerless in this fucking place.


    At the door to the boss''s chamber, two burly guards blocked the way, their arms crossed and expressions set in stone. The man who had dragged Rade here, Jackal, was arguing with them, his voice a growl of frustration. His one good eye gleamed with impatience, his hand twitching as if ready to fight.


    "You don''t understand," Jackal snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "I''ve got something the boss is gonna want to see. Let me through!"


    One of the guards, a hulking brute with scars covering his face, took a step forward, towering over Jackal. "I don''t care who you are or what you''ve got," he said coldly. "The boss said no disturbances."


    Jackal''s lips curled into a sneer. "You think he''ll be happy when he finds out you stopped me from delivering this?" He jerked his thumb at the sack slung over his shoulder, the weight of Rade''s small, bound form shifting inside it.


    "It''s the girl''s little brother. You know, the one with the crimson eyes? Boss''s been looking for him."


    The second guard, a tall man with a thick beard, shook his head. "The boss is busy. You''ll wait until he says otherwise."


    As the argument escalated, the voices growing louder and more heated, a deep, heavy voice suddenly cut through the noise like a blade through flesh. It came from behind the thick door, carrying with it a weight of authority that made every man in the hallway freeze in place.


    "What is this ruckus outside my door?" the voice rumbled, its tone calm but filled with an underlying threat. The kind of voice that demanded obedience.


    The guards stiffened, exchanging nervous glances. One of them turned to the door, knocking twice before answering. "Apologies, boss," he said hastily. "Some random thug showed up saying he had something important for you."


    The door remained silent for a moment, the tension hanging thick in the air. Then, from behind the heavy wood, the voice spoke again, quieter now but no less commanding. "Bring him in."


    Jackal, grinning in triumph, stepped forward quickly. "Boss, it''s me¡ªJackal," he said, his voice filled with the glee of someone who thought they had struck gold. "I''ve brought the girl''s brother. The one with the crimson eyes."


    Another silence followed, thicker and more ominous than before. The MC hovered above them, his heart pounding with dread. He knew something terrible was coming, but he couldn''t stop it. I have to watch this play out, he thought bitterly.


    Finally, the boss''s voice came again, this time with the unmistakable finality of a command. "Wait outside until I call for you."


    Jackal''s face twisted in frustration, but he had no choice but to obey. He took a step back, clutching the sack with Rade inside a little tighter. The guards stood their ground, their expressions stony as ever.


    The MC could feel the weight of the silence pressing down on him. Whatever was going to happen next, it wouldn''t be good.


    The room was dimly lit, the scent of expensive cigars and alcohol heavy in the air. The boss, a small man with sharp, lustful eyes, sat behind a lavish desk, rubbing his hands together in amusement. His short stature was almost comical, no taller than Rade himself, but the scar running from his head to his chin gave him an air of menace. He looked eager, anticipating something valuable.


    In front of him, two figures in dark hoods sat silently. Their faces were completely obscured by shadows, and no feature could be discerned. Their presence was unnerving, like they were specters, their very existence uncertain.


    The boss, speaking in a tone of sickening deference, addressed the hooded figures. "As you heard, sirs, we have the girl''s little brother. So, about our deal..." His voice was thick with greed, his fingers twitching slightly as he rubbed his hands together.


    One of the hooded men finally spoke, his voice cold and devoid of any humanity. It was impossible to tell which one was speaking; the sound seemed to come from both at once, or perhaps from the air itself. "You will get your package."


    The boss''s eyes lit up with anticipation. "And the boy?"


    There was a pause before the voice answered, this time with a hint of irritation. "We will collect him when the package arrives."


    The boss, sensing the impatience, quickly bowed his head. "Yes, yes, of course, sirs. The boy will be ready. The package will be here tomorrow."


    The hooded figures stood in unison, their movements unnervingly fluid, like shadows come to life. "We will return," one of them said in a voice that sent chills down the spine, before both of them turned and disappeared from the room as if they had never been there at all. Their presence had been eerie, and as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.


    The boss let out a wheezing laugh once they had left. "Jackal, get in here!" he shouted.


    Jackal, who had been standing just outside the door, rushed in, still carrying the sack with Rade inside. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what was to come, then bowed his head slightly, not daring to fully kneel before the boss.


    The boss''s sharp eyes gleamed as he motioned for Jackal to lean in. "You''ve done well," he said with a grin, patting Jackal''s shoulder in a mock show of approval. "Go, enjoy the night with one of the boys in the house. Take your pick."


    Jackal, though hesitant, forced a grin. "Thank you, boss. Thank you." His voice was low, and it was clear he was eager to get out of the room as quickly as possible.


    Before he could leave, the boss''s voice turned sharp. "But leave the child in the cell. Put him with the other girls. Make sure he doesn''t escape."


    Jackal froze for a moment, fear flickering in his eyes, but then he quickly nodded. "Yes, boss. I''ll make sure he doesn''t get out."


    The boss waved him off, and Jackal hurried from the room, the sack on his back shifting slightly as Rade stirred inside.


    From above, the MC watched, his anger bubbling up with every word exchanged. This bastard, he thought, watching the boss''s smug, greedy face as he leaned back in his chair. The MC''s fists clenched, the helplessness overwhelming him, but he knew he had to stay focused. He followed Jackal as the man moved through the dark hallways of the underground complex, making his way toward the cells.


    The further they went, the more unsettling the atmosphere became. The distant sounds of crying and muffled screams echoed through the damp, narrow corridors. Jackal descended a set of stone steps, each one taking him deeper into the heart of the twisted world these people operated in.


    At last, they reached the cells¡ªdark, cold, and reeking of decay.