Hello everyone,
Before we begin, once you’ve finished reading my little dramatic melodrama, I’ll post the revised Chapter 1 at the very end here.
So… what can I say about my story? Pretty chaotic, isn’t it? All those silences and disappearances on my part haven’t exactly been respectful.
I know WebNovels don’t work like that. And I’m not going to apologize endlessly. However, I do think it’s necessary to be transparent with you—out of respect for those who have been following this story.
First of all, understand that I genuinely hate reading and writing. Yes, ironic. But not as much as it sounds.
So what’s my motivation?
One story to rule them all. One story to—
Nope, wrong genre. Sorry about that.
More seriously, while all of this has its advantages, it also comes with major flaws. And I’m going to explain why this story won’t continue here. Because yes, this message is to tell you that the story won’t have a continuation… for now. Let me explain.
I imagined this entire little world in December 2024. In January 2025, I started writing it with the goal of sharing it with everyone. But then a problem came up: I didn’t know how to write a proper text. Formatting, structure, pacing—I knew absolutely nothing.
So I used AI. Yes, I committed the ultimate sacrilege for many of you—but go easy on me, I’m making my best puppy eyes here. I fed it everything that needed to be in each chapter, and it only handled the formatting. It didn’t invent anything—but I know that for some, even that is already too much. I spent five or six months like that: prompt, and boom, formatted chapter.
But here’s the major issue I eventually ran into: it couldn’t maintain coherence. I couldn’t move forward anymore, so I decided to learn how to write on my own, using everything I had observed from the way it structured things. That’s how my second story, Ashborne, was born—written entirely on my own. It took time, but today it has 22 chapters, and I can say this: I love what I’ve created. Since then, I write completely independently. I only use AI to correct typos. (Yes, I’m still a disaster when it comes to spelling.)
“You’re talking about another story—who cares?” you might say.
Fair enough. But I think the journey matters if you want to understand the decision I’m making now—even if my explanation is a bit clumsy. The story you’re reading here has been written entirely by my own hands since around Chapter 63.
But today, here’s the truth: I hate what I did from Chapters 1 to 62. Maybe some of you enjoyed it at its core, but I feel like it’s a mess—something that disrespects both the people who’ve followed me and future readers.
So I won’t be updating this story for now. I’m not closing it, at least not yet. I’m going to take some time and completely rewrite every chapter of the first three volumes from scratch. I’m going to give my text everything it’s missing—life, emotion, that spark that lets readers truly imagine.
Yes, I apologize to everyone who read it for giving you something so painful to read. The core was there, but the execution and structure are not what I want to present. I’m not fishing for sympathy, don’t worry. I’ll understand if you’re disappointed after reading all this, and I fully own my mistakes.
So I’m stepping away from this story for an undetermined amount of time. I’ll come back to you once I’ve finished rewriting this rough fabric that currently passes as a prologue. Thank you again to everyone who read it despite everything—that’s the greatest motivation for me to keep improving and refining my craft.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
See you soon, and take care.
Chapter 1: The Call in the Blood
The curtains swayed gently in the breeze drifting through the window, the crisp winter air slipping into the small apartment. The living room, lit by a soft, muted glow, revealed an utterly ordinary space, everything arranged just a little too neatly.
Against the wall stood cabinets lined with shelves filled with books of every kind. From simple cookbooks to perfectly aligned manga volumes. Opposite them, a small open kitchen connected to the living room gave off faint metallic sounds, utensils shifting slightly in the draft.
The hallway running alongside the kitchen lay in darkness, broken only by the light spilling from a half-open door. Steam drifted out from within as the sound of running water cut through the heavy silence. In the small bathroom, a man stood beneath the shower, his head tilted toward the showerhead, letting the water run down his body.
“Seriously? I couldn’t even have one peaceful day, huh? She just had to make it worse,” he said, exhausted.
He grabbed the faucet handle and turned it further toward hot, his eyes closing as his body shivered under the pleasant sensation.
“I wonder what I really did wrong. Maybe I’m asking for too much, but… is this really my life? Why did I make those choices… to end up here?” he wondered.
He opened his mouth and let the water pour in, filling it until it overflowed.
“Glrlglrlglrglrglrlg.”
He gargled for a few seconds before spitting the water onto the floor with a faint smile.
“Sometimes I wish I could go back to being a kid. Find that carefree feeling again. Complain about everything, know nothing, and just enjoy life,” he continued at last.
He placed his hand back on the faucet, turning the water off and standing still as droplets continued to fall, the silence settling in around him. A few seconds later, he shook his head.
“Come on, Veil. Get a grip. You haven’t given up until now—don’t start today. Show them you can do it,” he said sharply.
He grabbed his shower sponge and poured body wash onto it, scrubbing himself vigorously, as if the motion itself could push him forward. He turned the water back on, letting it crash against his skin again, the foam sliding to the floor as he rinsed himself clean.
Once finished, he shut off the water again and slid open the glass panel. He reached out to grab his towel, but just as his fingers were about to close around it, the bathroom door suddenly swung open.
A gust of wind rushed through the apartment, sending a chill through Veil’s body as the towel slipped from its rack and fell to the floor.
“Tch, seriously? What a piece of junk. They could’ve at least thought about the fact that metal is slippery,” he muttered, annoyed.
He placed one foot onto the bath mat, shifting his weight to bring his other leg forward. At the same time, he leaned down to retrieve his towel, stretching out his hand toward it. But his foot slipped, the mat sliding out from under him and sending Veil off balance in one swift motion.
“Shit—no, no, no!” he shouted.
He flung his arm out, trying to grab onto anything within reach, but found nothing but air. His head struck the corner of the sink with a dull, sickening thud that echoed through the room.
A searing pain exploded through him as he collapsed to the floor with a heavy, muffled sound. The cool, damp tiles sent a shiver across his skin, even as a spreading warmth seeped from his head.
“Wha… it hurts… it hurts so bad,” he whispered faintly.
His vision blurred under the burning pain, his breathing turning ragged as he tried to move his hands and arms. Nothing responded. His eyes closed on their own. Against the cold floor, his skin began to feel an unsettling mix of creeping warmth.
He forced himself to open his eyes again, his sight still hazy as a reddish stain bled into the white tiles.
I’m… I’m just tired. I just need to rest, he thought, unable to speak.
He closed his eyes once more, the warmth slowly fading as a biting cold spread through his entire body.
So cold… Why? I just want to go home… please, he thought.
His heart began to race as his breathing grew increasingly erratic, a pounding like a drum echoing in the bathroom. But all his efforts were in vain. The beating faltered… then stopped. A few faint pulses lingered, before everything went still.
On the cold floor now stained with blood, only a lifeless body remained, frozen in total silence. His spirit had already left that shell, drifting into the endless darkness of the void.
