Final: The author and his actors

30 minutes. No, it's 20. Just twenty minutes to stop her from turning. From becoming demonic.
"I need to think of something," Marcus whispered, glancing at Illia, who stood by the Unity Crystal.
He moved toward her while the other participants were either working on the riddle or fighting each other. He couldn't explain why, since he wasn't supposed to have knowledge of the future. But he knew. He knew that in twenty minutes she would no longer be herself. And in thirty, she would be dead. And he had to do something.
"Kaltheus, please don't go near that silver-haired girl," he called over his shoulder to his mysterious companion. "Just... trust me. It's for your own good."
She looked at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. Her face was cold, but there was a hint of "I wonder..." in her gaze.
Marcus quickened his pace. Illia stood before the crystal, peering into the barrier. At that moment, a voice rang out:
> Question: "A mage and a warrior stood at the abyss. One wielded words, the other wielded steel. The mage raised his hand, and the world bowed. The warrior stepped forward, and the silence disappeared.
One creates, but is unprotected. The other destroys, but cannot explain.
When they are equal, order arises.
Tell me: What makes magic a sword, and a sword magic? That one without the other is weakness, and together - strength? And how is true balance measured?"
The words echoed through the hall, leaving a strange vibration in the air, as if the hall itself wanted to hear an answer not from the mind, but from the essence of the soul.
"Illia!" Marcus shouted. "Are you... are you okay? Are you dizzy? Do you feel something... unusual?"
She turned around, confused:
— What?.. You're scaring me. We're rivals, remember? Or are you... — her face suddenly turned slightly pink. — Are you...
— No, no! That's not what I meant! It's just... what if you feel anger? Or some kind of shadow inside? Something that doesn't seem to be yours, but wants to break out?
— Hey, is this some kind of joke? To confuse me?
Marcus clenched his fists. "How can I explain something I can't know?" — was spinning in his head. Ten minutes left. Just ten. And then she — his friend, their symbol of hope — would disappear. Burn in a demon she herself doesn't recognize.
He began to panic. Thoughts were whirling in his head, logic was breaking down, fear was growing. He looked at her — and saw a person he could save. But he didn't know how.
"I am the author of..." — suddenly flashed in his consciousness. "And they are actors." The words of the system.
- System! How many times can I use "Writer"?! - he exclaimed mentally.
> System: Two. But... will I have enough mana?
- Show me your stats!
[Stats open:]
> Strength: 30 +8 | Dexterity: 23 +4 Endurance: 40 | Stamina: 34 Thinking: 55 +11 | Clarity: 15
> System: You've grown. But your clarity has dropped since the last chapter. Emotional damage, remember?
- Where are your mana stats?
> System (lazily): Oh, did you notice?) Catch: Mana: 250 / 300 Magic Aura: 110 / 110
Skills: [Writer], [Written Story]Passive: [—]Gifts: [Loading...]
“Gifts? What’s that?” Marcus muttered.
> [Update! Rare use of the system (less than 10%) grants: +200 mana.]
“Great!” Marcus exhaled. “This is a chance.”
Illia was still looking at him. Her gaze was a mixture of alarm and incomprehension.
“Listen… you’re becoming like a novel hero. A convenient gift at the right time,” the system grumbled. “A real cliché.”
But Marcus wasn’t listening. He was too busy trying to survive. No, not survive, but save. Even if it costs clichés.
- Illia. Please. I beg you... Just stand still. Relax. Close your eyes. I have something to do.
- What? You're not going to... - She flushed, but seeing his gaze, trembling and sincere, she simply nodded. - Okay. But if you're going to do something weird, I'll break your nose.
He smiled weakly.
- I promise, it will be decent.
"WRITER"
He raised his hand sharply, and the magic text swirled in the air. Illia saw it for the first time. Her eyes widened.
> [Illia relaxes. The demonization phase begins, but for now she retains her sanity. From outside the academy, Instructor Irma Delar decides to intervene and enter the arena.]
Mana: 270 / 500
> System: Cunning. You didn't prevent the demonization, but you postponed the consequences. You're learning. I like it.
Illia winced. A shadow of pain appeared on her face. She grabbed her head.
"What... something... is telling me... to kill them... to kill them all..."
Marcus stood in front of her. He knew that time was running out. But he was no longer just an observer. He was an author.
"Don't be afraid. If something happens... I'll rewrite it."
His voice was calm. And for the first time, he was confident.
Somewhere in the distance, a rumble was heard. Irma Delar was already entering the hall.
And the world was preparing for a new scene. One in which the author - finally - had a voice.