Chapter 1: The Doll Who Watches
Sound was born within the darkness.
There was no light. There was no sky. Only sound— like raindrops tapping against reality itself.
"Thousands of worlds are hidden here," the voice said. "Like drops of rain— close to one another, yet never the same."
With every word, countless worlds ignited in the dark— some with skies filled with fire, some with histories written in blood, some with gods, some with demons.
"In these worlds, humans were never ordinary," the voice was calm. "What Earth calls fantasy— that, too, is fantasy."
It paused for a moment. Then—
"But fantasy is not real." "It is only a dream."
The instant the word dream was spoken, one world collapsed. Another was born.
"Because I am the one who dreamed them." "I am the world creator."
"THE AUTHOR."
The name was not a roar. The name was an order.
But— within this darkness, there is another existence.
It does not stand in the light. It does not speak in words. Darkness itself is its body.
It has no name. No birth. No destiny.
It has only one identity—
The Doll of the Author.
It stands at the center of the void. Before it hang thousands of worlds— like drops of rain.
And on its face— two eyes.
Large. Red. Crimson.
The eyes never blink. They do not know sleep. They do not understand mercy.
They only watch.
In one world— a young man kneels on the ground. Before him lies a burned village.
He wanted to be a hero.
The Doll looks. The world trembles under its crimson gaze.
The young man's memories change. He no longer remembers— "I couldn't save them."
Instead, he remembers— "I was late."
A hero is never born. In that world, a ruthless ruler rises instead.
The Doll looks away.
In another world— a king is praying. The gods are listening.
The Doll looks. Within its eyes, a single word appears—
[REDACT]
The gods fall silent. The prayer dies in the air. The king goes mad.
The Doll says nothing. It only watches.
In another world— a child is being born. On his forehead was written—
The Chosen One.
The Doll looks. Deep within its red eyes, a line is drawn.
The future changes.
The child grows— but no prophecy calls to him.
He lives. But he is not special.
The Doll turns its gaze away.
Thus— in every world, either a hero or a villain.
And above everything— a single gaze.
The Doll's gaze.
It does not fight. It does not rule.
It observes.
And observation is the cruelest power of all. Because— what is seen can be corrected. And what can be corrected, can also be broken.
The voice in the darkness speaks again—
"You exist to watch," THE AUTHOR says. "Not to interfere."
The Doll gives no answer.
Its crimson eyes remain fixed upon thousands of worlds.
And for the first time— one world looks back at it.
The darkness deepens. The rain stops.
The story begins.
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🩸 Chapter-End Line
"Heroes change worlds. The Doll decides which worlds deserve heroes."