The colossal knight groaned as its joints cracked to life. Stone grated against stone. It raised its head slowly, the visor of its helmet glowing faintly with an eerie crimson light.
But the army around it... remained perfectly still.
They weren't frozen in time—they were waiting.
"C-Captain, what should we do?!" one of the fighters yelled, panic creeping into his voice as his eyes darted between the countless statues surrounding them.
The tension in the room was suffocating. Even the porters had stopped breathing.
I stood back, arms folded, eyes calm.
Not my problem.
After all, I'm not a part of their fate. I'm just editing the draft—rewriting what was already written. If you think I'd let myself die here, you don't know who's holding the pen.
Hehe.
Trailing at the back of the group, I paused—then looked up.
Just as I expected.
There, mounted on the ceiling of the boss room, was a shimmering screen—already lit, already recording. Broadcasting everything that was about to unfold, live.
And the audience?
The Devine Beings.
The very deities that walk above this world, watching us like we're pieces on a game board. This is one of the reasons I rejected the blessing before. They don't offer power—they offer shackles. Sponsorship, fame, prestige? No thanks. It's all just bloodsport to them.
That screen feeds their curiosity. The squad I'm with? Sponsored. Fed and fueled by divine attention.
And me?
With this cursed red label hovering above my head?
Trust me—those guys won't even blink if I die.
To them, I'm a glitch in their system.
Something they forgot to delete.
They haven't noticed it yet—the screen. Probably too shaken to even look up. Can't blame them. Anyone would be rattled in a room like this. Even I felt a knot in my gut, and I'm the one with the pen.
Still low-level or not, nerves are nerves.
I scanned the room again. The petrified knights remained still, frozen like statues. But the colossal one—the boss—was already on the move, dragging its massive blade behind it. The sound of steel grinding against stone echoed like a death sentence, leaving deep, brutal lines across the floor.
"Everyone!! Get into your positions!! Porters, prep the support gear!!" the captain shouted, trying to hold the squad together.
while I just walked casually to the back—hands tucked inside the pockets of my coat.
I sat near the door, crossed my legs, and leaned back. Might as well enjoy the show.
This is their moment, not mine.
Let the story play out a little.
[A climactic scene is unfolding.]
"Climactic, huh? That sounds promising."
I muttered to myself, watching the squad tighten their formation. The mages' staves sparked with golden light, mana swirling at the tips like coiled lightning. The fighters dashed in, blades drawn, flanking wide to strike the boss from both sides.
"Hold your guard—now!!" the captain roared, planting his shield as a radiant aura surged from him.
A clear Taunt skill—classic aggro pull.
It seems like his is sponsor's Thor. This squad is practically a walking Norse myth.
Then, suddenly—ping.
A new screen flickered open before me.
[Hidden Skill: ???? activated.
[Effect: Temporarily renders the Author unseen by other characters.]
"...What the—?"
A hidden skill?
[Note: Hidden skills can only activate during a climactic scene.]
I stared at the floating prompt. So I'm invisible now... not just to enemies—but to the cast themselves.
How convenient. How narratively convenient.
Looks like the stage is finally mine. I'm saying this in my perspective.
I stood up and casually strolled onto the battlefield.
Swords slashed. Spells exploded. Yet everything passed right through me—as if I wasn't even there.
"...Wait a sec," I muttered, halting mid-step. "Is this... spectator mode?"
I blinked.
Holy sh*t.
It is.
The squad was giving it everything they had—blades flashing, spells roaring—but the boss? It hadn't even swung its sword yet. It just stood there, taking their hits like they were gentle taps on stone.
Barely a scratch on its armor.
They were exhausting themselves against a wall.
"Eunseok! I need a strength boost!" the captain barked, voice sharp—like he was still convinced he could turn the tide.
Eunseok obeyed without hesitation, casting the buff spell just as the captain charged forward, battle hammer raised.
But his moment of glory shattered instantly.
The boss didn't even flinch. With a single, brutal kick, it launched him straight into the wall—his body crashing with a bone-rattling thud that echoed across the chamber.
Pfft.
I couldn't help the sound that slipped from my lips.
"CAPTAIN!!" the others cried.
"NO! Focus on the attack!!" Eunseok shouted, already preparing another ultimate spell, hands glowing with intensity.
I shifted my gaze. The porters were busy now—setting up a turret. Classic item. Once the banner of their pantheon is attached, it boosts the squad's stats. Tactical. Efficient.
Heh. Guess they're useful after all.
Outstanding performance.
If I had to critique each of them like a judge on some celestial panel, Eunseok Lee would take the highest score—no contest. A top-tier mage with a subclass in healing, and it shows. The way he commands both offense and support is rare.
But that's not what caught my attention.
It was the golden light above him—glowing steadily, visible even in the chaos of battle.
A label.
At first, I wasn't sure what I was looking at. But now... I can read it clearly.
Tritagonist.
So that's it.
Now I know exactly why a hidden skill of mine activated.
Tritagonist.
The third most important character in a story. Whether rival, villain, or ally—they exist to shift the flow of the tale. Not the centerpiece, but still vital.
I floated toward him, watching closely. The energy ball at the tip of his staff pulsed larger and larger, raw power crackling in the air. But the boss—towering and relentless—was closing in fast.
"Tanks! Use taunt! Fighters, strike from behind! The boss will focus on me and the front line!" Eunseok barked orders like a seasoned commander—like he'd already taken the reins.
And the squad obeyed.
Then it happened.
[If the captain hadn't acted so recklessly, we wouldn't be in this mess...]
The Inner Monologue Tap triggered on its own. I hadn't even activated it this time.
[Dear Mother Freyja... grant us strength.]
He whispered the prayer like it was his final vow. Then, as he opened his eyes again, a sharp breath left his lungs.
"HAAAAAAA!!"
He unleashed the energy spell—an enormous beam of light and fury—straight at the approaching boss.
The blast struck the boss's head with a deafening explosion, the shockwave shaking dust from the walls. The force made the armored giant stumble backward, metal grinding against stone.
Smoke curled from the blow to its head—scorch marks now branding the once-pristine helm. For a moment, silence.
Then the boss slowly straightened again. Its massive form hunched, then lowered—until it was staring directly at Eunseok.
[I can't die here... I need to reach Tier Ace... stand beside Jaemin...]
His inner voice was steady. Burning with purpose. Determination so sharp, I could feel it bleeding through my thoughts.
Man's got ambition...
Suddenly, the boss clenched its massive claymore with both hands—its stance shifting.
Just as I expected.
With a guttural grind of metal, it raised the blade high above its head, then brought it crashing down in a devastating arc.
The turret's shield held—barely. The impact exploded on contact, a concussive blast shaking the floor and throwing up a thick cloud of dust. The shockwave roared like thunder.
But that won't hold again. One more swing—two at most—and they're done for.
The barrier flickered, strained and cracking.
And the captain? Still out cold. Laid out at the edge of the boss room like a drunk who'd passed out at the wrong bar. Completely useless.
"Everyone!! Yield!!" Eunseok shouted, just seconds before the boss could make its next swing.
The squad broke into a sprint, darting toward the edges of the boss room—anywhere out of the claymore's massive reach. The boss, slow but towering, gave them just enough time to reposition.
Eunseok, though, was drained—his hands trembling, his staff dim. He couldn't cast again so soon.
The others—tanks and fighters—took the frontline, bracing themselves in case the boss launched another attack. Their shields shimmered faintly, ready to deploy.
But the knight wasn't done.
It gripped its sword tighter and slammed it down—this time into the ground.
The entire floor quaked.
With a thunderous crack, a shockwave burst outwards, ripping through stone and air alike. Dust erupted everywhere. A fracture snaked across the floor, racing toward them like a viper.
"AHHH—!" the hunters cried, stumbling to dodge as the blast tore through their ranks. Nearly all of them were caught in the tremor, tossed or dragged by the violent force like ragdolls in a storm.
From behind me, the air grew warm—thick with a strange electricity—and then came the system's whisper, clear as if it were spoken directly into my ear.
[Warning: Deus Ex Machina rate is increasing: 0.001% → 0.010% → 0.1% →]
I froze.
They were interfering.
Of course they were.
Those damn deities can't bear to lose an incarnation they placed their bets on. Cowards behind divine screens.
From the far end of the boss room, where the captain lay crumpled under the rubble like forgotten trash, a golden light tore through the dust. A beam, straight from the ceiling, split the air and struck his broken body.
A crack of thunder echoed—loud and violent—as if the sky itself screamed inside this sealed dungeon.
The others turned in shock. I didn't. I knew what this was.
Slowly, he began to rise from the heap, stone crumbling from his back and shoulders like dead skin. His form shimmered with divine heat, and his eyes... they flickered gold, sparking with electric rage.
[Deus Ex Machina is increasing: 3.00%]
I clenched my jaw.
So that's how it is, huh? The gods couldn't let him fall. Not yet. Not when the cameras are still rolling.
This wasn't a resurrection.
It was favoritism. /Plain and simple.
But go ahead. Let him have his moment.
Every story has its twist. I just happen to be the one holding the pen.
"You guys wanna play, huh?" I muttered under my breath, smirking as the system responded like a loyal scribe.
[Narrative Rewrite has been activated.]
The translucent interface bloomed in front of me, awaiting input. I didn't hesitate.
"All of a sudden, as the arrival of Thor surged into the captain's broken body, the hundreds of petrified knights surrounding them began to move."
A ripple passed through the dungeon, subtle at first—then thunderous.
I looked up from my phantom script, just as the sound of cracking stone filled the room. One by one, the petrified knights flanking the colossal boss began to shift. Crumbling armor, grinding joints, long-dormant eyes igniting with a dim blue glow. Not a few.
Hundreds.
They stirred like a waking army—slow, synchronized, and aimed straight at the newly-empowered captain, who now stood as a beacon.
He didn't realize it yet, but that spark of divinity inside him was a double-edged blade.
Deities can't possess a mortal body for long. Thor, especially—raw power incarnate. If he holds on too tight, the captain's soul will begin to tear apart. Slowly at first. Then suddenly.
Enjoy your moment, lightning boy.
You just became the brightest torch in a room full of kindling.
"Wait... wh–what's going on?!" one of the squad members shouted in panic as the petrified knights, now very much awake, began their slow, menacing march forward.
[The Deity of Thunder is enraged.]
Of course he is.
I could feel the air shift—denser, heavier, like the atmosphere itself was bracing for a tantrum from above.
Then the system chimed again:
[Due to the author's counter-interference, Deus Ex Machina rate has been decreased. New rating: 0.132%.]
So my rewrite worked. I didn't shut him down completely, but I rerouted the story. Diverted it from becoming another cheap miracle. I turned Thor's divine tantrum into a plot device. He's not saving anyone. He's just mad.
And mad gods do stupid things.
Thor—or rather, his spark burning inside the battered captain—leapt forward like a bolt unchained. His body surged with lightning as the hammer in his hands crackled with divine fury.
He launched himself at the towering boss, no hesitation. The claymore-wielding knight didn't have time to react—Thor's incarnation struck him clean in the face with the hammer.
BOOM.
A shockwave split the dungeon like thunder splitting sky. The boss collapsed, skidding backward with a long, screeching trail of fractured stone behind it.
But that wasn't victory.
Because now, all the awakened knights turned toward the source of that divine flare.
And they started running.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!!" Eunseok cursed, panic thick in his voice as he slammed his staff into the ground. A 2nd-grade barrier burst forth, flickering into a dome of pale blue light that enveloped the remaining squad members.
The knights, now fully animated, descended like a tide of steel and rage.
Some began hammering at the shield with swords, maces, even bare fists. The sound was deafening—metal against magic, relentless and maddened. The barrier shook violently with every strike.
Others... turned to him.
To Thor.
Or rather, the barely-holding-together mortal vessel that once was the captain.
The lightning inside him sparked erratically now, like a fire consuming its last wick. His form was crumbling—ash flaking from his skin, divine power too much for flesh and bone to handle.
Then, with a fury only a devine being could muster, Thor screamed:
"Ek mun drepa yðr alla!"
The system, obliging as always, offered its chilling translation:
[I will kill you all!].
And in that instant, lightning exploded from his body—wild, untamed, divine wrath unleashed. The room flashed white for a moment as several of the approaching knights were instantly incinerated.
But there were still dozens left. Too many.
And Thor's incarnation was falling apart.
Fast.
He wouldn't last long.
This wasn't a heroic moment anymore.
This was divine desperation—pure, burning vengeance flaring before the fire goes out.
Thor rampaged through the knights like a starved wolf tearing through sheep—blindingly fast, his movements flickering like skipped frames in broken footage.
One by one, they fell. Screams drowned beneath the roar of lightning. Metal crumpled, steel melted.
At last, his hand seized the final knight. It thrashed, clawing blindly, but Thor silenced it with a brutal grip—crushing its iron-clad skull like a butcher pulping fruit.
"We're saved... We're saved!!" some shouted, breathless with hope, their voices cracking from fear and relief.
But I didn't share it.
Thor stood now at the center of the boss room, surrounded by ruin. His aura wasn't divine—it was wrong. Unnatural. Eerie.
Then, like a bolt behind the eyes, a flicker of a scene stabbed into my mind.
Shit.
The others hurried to their captain, collapsed in rubble. They didn't realize—he was gone.
Eunseok followed with a warm smile, wiping sweat from his brow.
"You did it, boss! We cleared the dungeon!" the others says.
But the body before him was cracking—splitting along glowing lines of golden light. The captain wheezed for air, each breath heavier than the last.
"Boss...? Are you—?"
The moment shattered.
The captain's hand shot up and wrapped around the member's throat.
"Cap...t...ain—" the man choked, eyes wide with terror, as the deity inside him stirred.
Thor's voice rumbled, guttural and raw:
"Endalok yðvar eru nær."
[Your end is near.]
The vision in my mind ended there—
but more were coming.
The squad froze, horror etched across their faces.
Eunseok's eyes widened. "E... everyone..." he muttered.
Then louder—screaming now:
"Everyone, get away from the captain!!"
And chaos returned.
As the squad member gasped his final breath, Thor let go—dropping the lifeless body like discarded waste.
Thud.
The sound echoed like a final bell.
His golden eyes turned toward the others, gleaming with bloodlust.
But they didn't move.
They couldn't.
Then, his gaze stopped.
It locked onto Eunseok.
Like prey caught in the gaze of something ancient and cruel.
[Warning: Deus ex machina rating is increasing at an incredible speed]
[A character is about to die outside of the designated plot line]
The system's voice rang cold in my ears.
I clenched my fists.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Not yet.
Not him.