The Webnovel I'd been reading was called The Dance of Power.
It wasn't some massive phenomenon dominating the rankings, but it had enough charm to pull me in. The worldbuilding was interesting, the characters had depth, and despite all its flaws, it was the kind of story that stuck in your head.
What really made it stand out, though, was its gimmick:
It was an interactive Webnovel.
Readers could submit their own character sheets, and the author would choose two to insert directly into the story.
Of course I tried.
I carefully filled out my form — a picture, backstory, stats, a balanced ability so I didn't look like a clown trying to be OP. I put in effort. Hours of it.
And then the reply came:
[Email: [email protected]]
Hello, Vipez!
Thanks for supporting my humble little story and for always commenting.
Unfortunately, the two character slots are already filled.
Your character is interesting, but he doesn't fit what I want for the next arc. Sorry — he's just not good enough.
That was it.
Short. Direct.
The literary equivalent of patting me on the head and closing the door.
I didn't reply. I dropped the novel instead.
It wasn't that I hated it — there were just better stories to read, and watching other readers' characters get attention while mine got tossed aside… yeah, it sucked.
Maybe that's why this happened.
The chance of becoming a millionaire is one in 50,063,860.
What was happening to me right now felt just as impossible.
I was standing in the living room of a house I didn't recognize. Holding a letter I'd never seen before. And worst of all…
I wasn't me.
The house was too expensive, too luxurious for my normal life.
The silence was wrong — my sister was always blasting music somewhere.
And the letter in my hand had a golden brooch sealing it shut.
I unclipped it with shaking fingers and unfolded the paper.
The very first line made my heart freeze.
"Dear Dreyden. You were accepted into the Triangle."
Dreyden.
My rejected OC.
I had become Dreyden Stella, the character the author didn't even want in the story.
The one I created.
His backstory surfaced in my mind piece by piece.
Dreyden belonged to the Stella family — owners of a level 7 skill book called Copper Body.
But their ability only manifested in children with high vital energy.
Dreyden didn't have enough.
So at age ten, they kicked him out.
Erased him from the family.
Pretended he died.
Sent him to a normal human city where weak people lived and strong people ruled.
He was supposed to survive on his own until an old friend of his father found him and gave him a skill book.
I paused.
…Except I never named that friend.
I never wrote anything beyond "a friend of his father helped him."
But this world wasn't exactly the same as the novel.
The fact that this mysterious friend suddenly had a name…
Idan Vaughan.
…proved it:
I didn't just enter the novel.
I entered a living world based on it.
A world where things I didn't specify were filled in.
A world where logic filled gaps I left in the character sheet.
A world that was alive.
And this world was cruel.
Skill-less humans were treated like trash.
Weak ability users were bullied, enslaved, or worse.
The military academy — The Triangle — was infamous for its hierarchy.
Level 9 and 10 ability users were monsters.
Beasts, aliens, and other races were at war with humanity.
I lay in bed for two hours, staring at the ceiling, the reality sinking deeper and deeper into me.
I wasn't excited.
I wasn't thrilled.
I was terrified.
Because tomorrow, at 10 AM, I had to show up at the Triangle for the entrance exam.
And my entire future depended on whether or not Dreyden already had the ability I created for him.
Celestial Library.
A level 0 unregistered skill — the only way my character had a chance at surviving this world.
If he never met Idan…
If he never received the book…
If the skill wasn't there…
…then my life was already over.
I could check by calling "Status," just like characters did in the novel.
But I couldn't bring myself to do it.
Because if the answer was "no," then I'd be walking into hell unarmed.
The Triangle didn't tolerate the weak.
The world didn't, either.
People without abilities were disposable.
People with weak abilities were tools.
People like Dreyden?
Abandoned.
Forgotten.
Crushed.
"This can't be real… I didn't even WANT to be my character… I was just annoyed he got rejected!"
My voice cracked in the empty room.
Eventually, night came. I turned on the TV — the news said the Triangle exams had already begun. Tomorrow was the last day.
That matched the plot perfectly.
I was entering the story thirty days late. Same as the readers' characters.
Which meant everything else should match too.
Even the terrifying parts.
I shut off the TV and stared into the darkness.
No more running.
I needed strength, or I would die.
"Please… whoever sent me here… just let the skill be there."
I closed my eyes, swallowed the terror, and called out:
"Status."
Magic energy surged through my veins — warm, tingling, pulsing like a river flowing under my skin. It gathered in front of me, forming a glowing square.
I held my breath.
And slowly… I opened my eyes.