The Black Author's presence warped the very air around him. The air grew thick, like ink sinking into water, and the entire library seemed to bend under his weight. His steps were silent, yet each one echoed as if the universe itself acknowledged his existence.
Steven gripped his staff tightly, a cold sweat forming on his brow. There was something unnatural about this figure—he wasn't just a being from another realm; he was a force, a void, an entity that made reality itself feel… fragile.
"Who are you?" Steven demanded, his voice steady despite the rising tide of fear.
The Black Author's voice was a whisper, a sound that didn't come from his mouth but rather from the very walls of the library. "I am the one who scribes the fates of all. The one who writes, erases, and rewrites as I see fit. I am the Author of the End."
The librarian flinched, her eyes darting nervously between the two. "No… it can't be him… He was never meant to awaken."
Steven narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean? Who are you really?"
The Black Author's shadowy form stepped closer, his veil lifting just slightly to reveal a glimpse of a face that was... familiar. It was a reflection of Steven, but twisted, scarred, as if the mirror had cracked and the cracks had a life of their own.
"I am the opposite of you, Starcaster. The failure of the Codex. The one who was never meant to exist in your world."
Steven's heart raced. "You're… me?"
"No," the Black Author said softly, "but I could have been. I was the Codex's first true experiment, but I was abandoned—rewritten into nothing. I am the consequence of a creation that couldn't be controlled."
Suddenly, the library around them groaned, its walls pulling inward like a dying beast's last breath. Books began to disintegrate, their pages curling into ash. The very fabric of reality trembled at the Author's will.
"And now," the Black Author continued, **"I will finish the story you started. The Codex will be rewritten, and you—he turned his piercing eyes to Steven—will be erased from it entirely."
Steven's mind raced. This was no ordinary villain. This was an entity born from the very idea of rewriting reality—one who could change everything, even the truths Steven had fought so hard to uncover.
"You think you can rewrite my story?" Steven said, his voice now dripping with defiance. "I am the one who writes my own fate. Not you."
With a flash, he summoned the Arc of Null again, its dark blade slicing through the air. But as he swung, the Black Author merely raised his hand, and the blade froze mid-air, as if caught in an invisible vice.
"Your fate was sealed before you even knew your name."
The air rippled as the Author's form dissolved into shadow, spreading through the library like ink in water, and then—everything stopped.
A sudden chill ran down Steven's spine as the world around him went dark. The bookshelves were gone. The library was no more. All that remained was an endless void, as cold and infinite as space itself.
"This is where your story ends, Starcaster."
But Steven wasn't done. He couldn't be. Not when the fate of the multiverse hung in the balance. He pulled deep within himself, reaching for the power of the Codex that still resonated inside his soul, the force that could rewrite even the darkest of futures.
He closed his eyes.
And he wrote.
A single word.
"No."
The void quivered.
To be continued