Prolog

“But you are the chosen one.”
The tall man spoke, his voice lingering amidst soft whispers of wind and drifting leaves—words suspended, gnawing at the silence between them.

A silhouette of a woman appeared as she turned back to face the man. Her expression was flat, yet deep fear haunted her, every night in her dreams. It was as though she now confronted a choice heavier than any before.

"I don't want this anymore, Phil." She turned, her words trailing like brittle embers, and walked away—hoping the man behind her had heard her clearly.

"This is for Helius." Her voice came again, unwavering. He froze mid-step. Above them, the sky cracked—dark crevices widened, shadowy teeth ripping the horizon. From each crevice emerged horrific, writhing monsters. Then, the woman let a small, bitter smile curl across her lips—an acknowledgment of fate.

| Chapter 46— Volume 3 (End) |

The pages flipped back and forth, and now there were no pages left - only a closing word and the manga cover. Her delicate hand lingered over the final illustration she had just read, still in disbelief that such a popular manga would end so absurdly. 

“is this really it?” she muttered, wondering why people spent their money on a manga that held no meaning in its story. 

Her palm moved to close, bringing the two opposites covers together, and she placed it in her backpack. Once securely stored, she shifted the bag to her front, cradling it protectively. She lifted her chin, tilting it slightly, and gazed at the passing city below, bathed in the beauty of the setting sun. The sunlight now colored her hair and tinted her fair skin with hues of orange. 

I am Yana Zayaa, an indonesian exchange student in Japan, fluent in Japanese. My proficiency made this opportunity invaluable - my teachers couldn’t afford to let it slip by. I’ve always been captivated by Japanese culture, especially manga. Since childhood, I’ve devoured countless stories, particularly fantasy genres, dreaming of one day becoming  renowned manga artist. The thought of my work being adapted into an anime by prestigious studio? Oh, how I longed for that. 

However, my family didn’t share my vision. They had different aspirations for me, pushing me toward fields I had no interest in. Their definition of success clashed with mine. They believed that by guiding me away from my passion, they were steering me toward a more secure future. But I couldn’t ignore the curse that had plagued our family for generations - a curse I was determined to break. 

The city lights flickered on, accompanying the silent night. The sun had set, making way for the moon. Trees lining the streets passed swiftly, then slowed as the bus approached the stop. I stepped off the bus, my backpack now resting on my shoulder. Ignoring the departing vehicle, I adjusted the strap and shifted the bag to the front, securing it close to my chest. The streetlights illuminated the winding path ahead, guiding me through the hilly terrain. As I walked, I noticed a multi-story house with numerous doors and stairs connecting the first and second floors. I ascended the steps, mindful of my footsteps to avoid disturbing the neighbors. Finally, I reached my room.

Yana retrieved the key from her pocket, her fingers brushing the cold metal before unlocking the door. She entered her room, eager to engage in something meaningful related to her dreams. Her white sneakers were neatly placed on the shoe rack, and she leaned against the white wall, stretching her arm to reach the light switch. With a decisive motion, she flicked it on, flooding the room with brightness and dispelling any shadows.

She walked to her desk, where an array of drawing tools and papers awaited. The ruler bore black stains, evidence of countless sketches and revisions. Placing her bag on the bed behind her, she grabbed a manga from her backpack. Her expression hardened as she tossed it onto the desk. It was just another generic fantasy manga, replete with modified monsters and a clichéd storyline. Even the character development was sucks. 

Yana couldn't help but wonder: what made this manga so popular? Wasn't it unfair that a manga of average quality, with only a few volumes, could get an anime adaptation so quickly? Strangely, this manga seemed fortunate, as it had received no criticism or backlash from any quarters. Yana didn't know; she began to suspect that perhaps some people in this world had started to question the quality of their storytelling tastes.

The story was quite simple: it told of a protagonist chosen to be a hero in his world, who quickly set out to save several people from monsters. What was disappointing was when the supporting characters of the protagonist had to fall. This made her angry and disappointed, as if the protagonist, always glorified. Why didn't they care about the supporting characters too? Were they merely created to make the main character famous?

The story emerged victorious from a fierce competition, an unexpected triumph that propelled this manga into the spotlight. Within a mere month, it exploded in popularity, even reaching international audiences. Naturally, adaptation studios were eager to capitalize on this newfound fame, swiftly moving to bring it to the screen. Yana, however, remained unmoved. Her grip tightened around her phone, a silent protest against the impending onslaught of adaptations. She unlocked the screen with a practiced swipe. The display flickered to life, revealing her social media feed. A parade of posts scrolled by—whimsical food creations, the latest weather updates, and the occasional meme. Nothing that screamed 'urgent' or 'important.'

Her fingers danced across the screen, typing with determination. 'I’ll find it, I’ll find it.' A username adorned with a tiny chicken icon appeared, and without hesitation, she tapped on it. Yana scrolled through the posts of the account, each one brimming with updates about manga publications and images of various characters from the series. The account owner also created their own manga series, which had garnered quite a following. The series was titled "The Chosen One"—a classic title, to be sure. But there was no mistaking it: this was the same manga she'd just read on the bus. It was clear that the person behind this account was the mangaka themselves. How fortunate they were to receive such praise from the fans in the comments. Yana couldn't help herself; she began to type her own response as a reader of the manga.

"This manga is the worst!." After posting her comment, she was about to close the app when an email notification popped up, reminding her to finish her own storyboard.

Huft...Yana exhaled sharply, unwilling to waste time. She grabbed a pen and prepared a blank sheet of paper, determined to continue her own manga. "Just wait," she muttered. "I can outdo that awful manga."

Her hand moved skillfully, sketching strands of hair, each stroke more confident than the last. Some fingers became stained with ink, yet she didn't tire. Thoughts of hope and ambition fueled her, keeping her awake until dawn.

An ambition that stirred the soul.

—TBC