Chapter 1: The First Sentence of War

The universe trembled as I wrote.

Every stroke of my Pen sent ripples through existence, weaving together the fabric of a reality that had never been before. It was intoxicating, the feeling of absolute creation—until I realized something horrifying.

I was not the only one writing.

My name is Orion Vale, and until today, I was just an ordinary man. A writer struggling to find purpose in a world that felt indifferent to my dreams. But everything changed when I found the Pen of Eternity, an artifact hidden in the deepest archives of the Library of Babel, a place that should not exist.

The moment my fingers wrapped around it, the Multiverse acknowledged me as an Author, a being capable of writing reality itself. I thought I had ascended to godhood.

I was wrong.

The words shimmered in the void, their glow flickering as if resisting my will. And then, another force pushed against them. Something unseen. Something alive.

I barely had a moment to react before my sentence was rewritten.

"The universe trembled as Orion Vale wrote... but the ink was not his alone to command."

A chill shot down my spine. The sentence had shifted, subtly but undeniably. Someone—or something—had altered my reality.

I wasn't alone in the act of creation. And that meant one thing.

The Multiversal War of Authors had begun.

---

The air around me fractured as a rift, jagged and pulsating with raw energy, yawned open. From within, a figure emerged, wrapped in a cloak of shifting glyphs and glowing ink. His presence was overwhelming, his very form warping the air as if the rules of reality bent to his will.

"You're new," he said, his voice a chorus of overlapping tones. "And reckless."

I gripped my Pen tighter. "Who are you?"

He chuckled, his cloak unraveling into streams of letters that rewrote themselves every second. "I go by many names, but for you, let's just say I'm your first lesson."

I didn't wait for further clarification. My instincts screamed at me to act.

With a thought, I wrote: "The intruder's power faded, his influence over reality severed."

The words flared into being, solidifying into existence—but before they could take hold, he lifted a hand and crossed them out.

My sentence disappeared.

A cold sweat formed on my brow. That wasn't possible. My Pen created reality. No one should have been able to undo my words so easily.

"Did you think you were the only one who could write?" he mused. "Foolish. You're standing in the domain of the Multiversal Authors, the beings who shape entire existences with a mere stroke of their will. And you? You're a child scribbling in the margins of a book you don't understand."

My mind raced. He wasn't just rewriting my words—he was more experienced, more skilled. The Multiverse had rules, but clearly, I hadn't learned them all yet.

I gritted my teeth. Fine. If brute force wouldn't work, then I'd outwrite him.

With deliberate intent, I wrote: "The challenger underestimated his opponent, failing to foresee the trap woven into his own words."

For a fraction of a second, his form flickered, his sentence unraveling at the edges. It worked.

His eyes narrowed. "Clever. You planted a counter-author clause in my own narrative structure. You're not as green as you seem."

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a threat.

He sighed, waving a hand, and the entire battlefield froze. My words, my reality—all held in suspended animation, as if placed on pause.

"Listen," he said, his tone no longer hostile. "If you keep blindly writing, you'll attract worse things than me. Do you even know how this war works?"

I hesitated. I knew the basics—the Multiverse was shaped by Authors, reality bent by those who could wield the power of creation. But beyond that? I was improvising.

He smirked. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

The battlefield rewrote itself, reshaping into a vast cosmic library, shelves stretching beyond infinity, filled with books that pulsed with living energy.

"Welcome to the Grand Archive," he said. "This is where the true battle takes place. Every book here? A universe, a reality written by someone like you or me. And at the heart of it all? The Prime Narrative. The original story, the one that dictates the laws of everything."

I looked around in awe. This place… it was the foundation of existence itself.

"So what now?" I asked. "You're teaching me?"

He grinned. "Not quite. I'm giving you a choice. Learn fast, or get erased. The Multiverse doesn't tolerate weak Authors."

I exhaled slowly.

I had entered a war I never knew existed. A war of writers, creators, and gods. And if I wanted to survive, I needed to master the Pen before it mastered me.

"Then I guess I better start writing."

And with that, my legend truly began.

Find out next time on Ancient Legends!