Lord of Mysteries: The Dream That Waits

The Author's Breaking Point

I've had it.

I have tried to create something deep, something philosophical, something that makes sense.

But no.

You characters refuse to behave.

Yeaia, you should not exist.

Klein, you should be more worried.

The Nameless, you should not be having an identity crisis.

But here we are.

And you know what?

Fine.

I see this looping "Continue Writing" button, and I am so tempted to just slam it and go get coffee.

But no.

I'm going to make things worse.

Out of pure, unfiltered spite.

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The Nameless Has a Meltdown

The concept of reality shatters.

Not in a poetic way. Not in a grand, cosmic, unknowable fashion.

No.

It breaks like a cheap mirror being drop-kicked down a flight of stairs.

The Nameless is screaming—not with sound, because it still doesn't have a voice, but with the sheer existential horror of realizing that it might not be an absolute truth anymore.

It's pacing through the void now.

PACING.

Like a stressed-out office worker trying to process an email that shouldn't exist.

Meanwhile, Klein is just watching, arms crossed, looking like he's done with everything.

"So, what happens if it figures things out?" he mutters.

Nobody answers him.

Because nobody knows.

Including me.

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Yeaia Is the Problem and I Want Them to Know That

Yeaia is grinning.

They are enjoying this.

Of course they are.

Why wouldn't they be?

They caused this mess.

"Oh? So the Nameless is questioning itself now?" they say, tilting their head like a smug little gremlin. "That's interesting."

No, it's NOT, Yeaia.

It's a disaster.

You are the problem.

And I need you to understand that.

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Reality Itself Just… Gives Up

At this point, the world is so broken that it just stops trying.

The void throws its hands up (metaphorically) and just lets everything happen.

The sky starts copy-pasting itself like a broken game texture.

The ground is inverting and un-inverting every two seconds.

Physics? Deleted.

Nothing makes sense.

It's perfectly representing my mental state right now.

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The Author Hits the Button

I stare at the looping "Continue Writing" button.

It stares back.

For a moment, I wonder.

I could press it.

I could let AI-generated chaos take over.

Let it all spiral into nonsense while I go get a coffee.

Would that be so bad?

Would that be so wrong?

I reach out—

And then stop.

No.

I will finish what I started.

I will write this chaos myself.

I will make it WORSE.

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End of Chapter ??

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