The Fistoria Top 100 wasn't a destination.
It was a launchpad.
I sat in my room, the glow of my new gaming laptop the only light. The specs were insane. It purred like a contented beast.
On the screen, my author dashboard glowed.
"Chronos Imperium" - Ranking: #87 (Rising Stars).
Eighty-seven. A number. A beautiful, meaningless number that meant everything.
Comments flooded in by the minute.
"UPDATE SOON!"
"Author, you are a god!"
"I've read this three times!"
Each one was a hit of dopamine. Pure, uncut validation.
But the real drug was in the backend.
The Contract Center tab had a red notification bubble. A '2'.
I clicked it.
The first was another Standard Agreement. Garbage.
The second made my breath catch.
FISTORIA RISING STAR EXCLUSIVE CONTRACT.
The terms were better. A 60/40 split in my favor. A small advance. Promoted placement on the app's front page for a week.
It was still a Bronze-tier contract. I could feel it.
But it was a better bronze.
This is how it starts. They see the metrics. They offer a better cage.
My cursor hovered over the 'Review' button.
The familiar blue-tinted hologram flickered to life in my vision.
[TENSEI SYSTEM: CONTRACT DETECTED]
[CONTRACT: FISTORIA RISING STAR EXCLUSIVE - TIER: BRONZE (ENHANCED)]
[ANALYSIS: MODERATELY FAVORABLE. SIGNATURE WILL INITIATE REWARD PROTOCOL 1-B.]
[SIGN TO ACCEPT? Y/N]
I didn't hesitate.
Y.
The holographic 'Y' flashed gold.
On my screen, the digital signature scrawled itself.
[CONTRACT TIER: BRONZE (ENHANCED) - SIGNED.]
[PROCESSING REWARD…]
A new progress bar. This one had a subtle glitter effect.
It hit 100%.
[REWARD 1: CAPITAL INJECTION - $25,000.00 USD]
[DESCRIPTION: Added to your offshore primary account.]
A smaller chunk. But it was free money. My account was now $125,000 strong.
The System wasn't done.
[REWARD 2: RANDOM SKILL ROLL INITIATED…]
[ROLLING…]
A slot machine effect played in my mind's eye. Symbols of eyes, brains, and mouths blurred past.
It slowed. Stopped.
The symbol was a grinning, cartoonish devil face.
[SKILL UNLOCKED: CRINGE INDUCTION (PASSIVE-AURA)]
[DESCRIPTION: Passive ability. Any individual who reads your work and chooses to stop (a 'Silent Reader') or leaves a malicious review will experience a random, intense wave of social cringe within 24 hours. They will vividly recall their most embarrassing memory. Effect scales with the malice of their intent.]
I burst out laughing.
It was petty. It was beautiful. It was perfect.
The system got me. It truly did.
This wasn't about world-saving powers. It was about revenge. Sweet, specific, psychological revenge.
The hologram faded.
I immediately opened my secret bank app.
Balance: $125,304.12
The number was real. It was mine.
Okay, Alex. You have the fuel. Now find the target.
The first name on my mental list was clear.
Kasia Nowak.
The Fistoria editor who had rejected my original, pathetic manuscript in the old timeline. Her rejection email was burned into my memory. "Lacks narrative cohesion. Unsuitable for our platform."
I opened a new browser tab. Went to Fistoria's "Meet the Team" page.
There she was.
Katarzyna "Kasia" Nowak. Senior Editor, Fantasy & Sci-Fi.
Her photo showed a woman in her late twenties. Sharp, intelligent features. Jet-black hair in a severe bob. Eyes that looked like they could dissect a plot hole from a mile away.
She was polished. Professional. Untouchable.
Not for long.
I dug deeper. LinkedIn. Industry forums. She was a rising star at Fistoria herself. Known for a ruthless eye and cultivating serious talent.
My heart beat faster.
This wasn't some school bully. This was a professional in my intended field. The very gatekeeper who had shut the door in my face.
Turning her? That would be the ultimate power move.
But my Compulsion skill was on cooldown for another 29 days. The timer glowed faintly in my peripheral vision.
[COMPULSION COOLDOWN: 29D 14H]
I couldn't use the big gun yet.
But I could lay the groundwork.
A plan began to form. Cold. Precise.
First, I needed her attention.
Not as a supplicant author.
As a phenomenon she couldn't ignore.
I minimized her photo. Opened my writing document.
Time to write a chapter so good, even Editor Ice Queen would have to notice.
My fingers flew across the keyboard.
The grind was officially on.
//-\\
To my fellow authors in the trenches:
They told us we weren't good enough. They sent the cold, automated emails. "Not a fit for our current line-up." "Lacks marketability."
Every time you see Alex Thorn crush an editor in this story, remember: this isn't just fiction.
This is the scream of every writer who stayed up until 3:00 AM pouring their soul into a document that the world ignored. It is for everyone who has ever struggled with low reads, low reviews, low comments, and those painful, stagnant low collections that make you want to quit.
The gatekeepers are human. They are flawed. And in the digital age, they are becoming obsolete.
They sit in their comfortable chairs judging worlds they could never even imagine, let alone build. They look at spreadsheets while we look at the stars.
We don't write for the approval of a corporate board in a glass office. We write for the person scrolling on their phone at a bus stop, looking for a world better than their own.
We write for the ones who need an escape from a life that feels like a dead end.
If you have a manuscript sitting in a folder named "Draft 1" that you're too afraid to post—post it right now.
Stop waiting for permission to exist. If you've been rejected ten times, go for the eleventh. Use their "No" as fuel for your fire.
Alex Thorn had to die to get his second chance. You don't. You just have to keep typing until your fingers bleed and your vision blurs. The industry thinks they hold the keys. They forgot that we are the ones who build the doors in the first place.
Let them call us "cringe." Let them call us "amateurs." While they talk, we build. While they judge, we evolve into something they can't control.
Current Motivation Level: 6%
Next Level: +1%
If this chapter resonated with you, drop a comment. Tell me about the time a gatekeeper told you "No."
ALL HELL FROM WEBNOVEL STARTS FROM YOU!
— A.T.