A popular novel with various adaptations, <
It was a fantasy, sword and magic story. A world of many race and secret.
The story's premise is compelling, filled with richly developed characters and intricate storytelling. Despite its acclaim, the author chose to end the narrative on a tragic note, destroying the world and rendering all of Derion's struggles seemingly meaningless. This conclusion left fans unsatisfied, sparking widespread frustration.
A year after the novel's controversial ending, a game adaptation was released, offering fans a chance to alter Derion's dark fate. Over the years, players explored 200 different endings, but only one was deemed a "good" ending. Yet even this resolution was bittersweet, the world was saved at the cost of the main cast's heroic sacrifices. The true enemy was merely sealed away temporarily, and a 40-year time skip revealed a world in ruins, where all life had ceased to exist.
Fans were furious and bombarded the author with threats, negative comments, and poor reviews. Then, one day, the story and all records of its existence mysteriously vanished without a trace.
---
"Where is it?" I muttered to myself, confusion mounting.
I had scoured the internet, asked countless people, and even confronted my friend who was once a huge fan of the story. Yet no one seemed to remember <
"This is impossible," I thought, pacing my room. "Were those just dreams? Am.i going crazy?, How did it disappear? And why am I the only one who can remember it?"
I was sure it wasn't a dream, its way to vivid to be just a dream, and the whole story was completed in my head.
To my disbelief, even the merchandise I had collected was gone, and as time passes i decided to stop looking for it. However, I saw an opportunity in its disappearance. I knew the story, so I re-created it and began profiting from it.
"Now this is life"
Though my version didn't receive the same recognition as the original, it gained enough popularity to be featured in big platforms and be recognize by many. I made revisions and provided it with a proper good ending.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
"Well, all is good," I mused, scrolling through positive comments and top reviews. "If it makes money, then it's fine."
Despite knowing the original was better written, I was proud of my work. Even if it felt like plagiarism, I didn't care. I was living a good life because of it.
As I browsed through my private messages filled with requests and feedback, one username caught my eye.
"No way," I whispered, my heart pounding. The message read:
[MASTER_PUNK25: I can tell it's half-heartedly created. Mine is still better, though.]
MASTER_PUNK25. I remembered that name-it was the username of the original author.
"I'm glad you enjoyed my story," I replied, convinced that it's just coincedence and that it was just a fan criticizing and comparing my work to theirs.
I didn't usually reply to comments, but this one was different. I decided to engage. All because of the username.
[MASTER_PUNK25: I applaud you for the recreation of my story, but I'm not satisfied. You had your chances; now I'm giving you a challenge.]
"What?" I muttered, feeling a sense of dread. Could it really be the original author? My insecurities made me hesitate.
[MASTER_PUNK25: All those endings-200 and one original. I did my best to create a good end for them, but in the end, it lies in their actions. And they failed to give themselve the ending they yearned.]
His words were vague, but I understood the gist. It was him. But doubt still lingered.
And what does he mean with that? He's the autbor, he's the one making the story. So what did he mean he tried his best.
He's the one who doomed them, he killed his characters.
Well first, i need to know how and why the original dissapeared, and why am i the only one who can remember it.
I was about to ask when a new message arrived.
[MASTER_PUNK25: Maybe you can change their dark fate.]
?
Suddenly, my vision blurred, and I found myself inside an old, worn-out hut.
"What just happened?" I whispered, looking around in bewilderment as i gasp for air.
The floor creaked with the slightest movement as I got up slowly, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
"What's going on... Where am I?"
Looking around, I saw nothing but holes in the walls, with sun rays penetrating inside. My clothes were different. "What am I wearing?" They were tattered and strange-a robe, I think. "I don't remember wearing something like this."
I instinctively reached for my phone to call for help, but when I checked my pockets, they were empty. "Gone!?" There was nothing except a few items I didn't remember taking with me: a dagger or a knife, a piece of tissue, and a hard piece of bread.
"Why do I have these?" I wondered aloud. The knife was old, intricately designed. It looked like an antique, not something you'd find today.
Questions flooded my mind. Why was I here? Had I been kidnapped? My brain racked up all possible scenarios, yet none provided a clear explanation.
I decided to leave the hut to find out where i was. But before stepping out, I caught sight of a cracked, dusty mirror. The reflection staring back at me was not mine.
"Who... is that?" I whispered, bewildered. The face in the mirror was unfamiliar-younger, with smooth cheeks. Long dark brown hair reaching my shoulder and yellow golden eyes.
It copied all my movements, mimicking them perfectly, just as shown in the mirror.
"Is that... me?" I whispered, bewildered. The reflection moved as I did, but the face staring back was not my own. It was as if I had been transported into someone else's body.
No... It's not an if. Thats because. I am transported to a different body.
It was a girl, who'm i did not know off.
A stranger, and yet it's me.