Selection and Concentration

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠poured everything I had into this novel.

I had fallen into a vicious cycle of writing furiously, going on hiatus, writing furiously again, and repeating the same pattern. At that rate I would never become a real author. So I made up my mind: sink or swim, I would finish this one no matter what. Maybe my desperation reached the heavens. I found a good manager, successfully switched to paid serialization, and began earning enough to live without worrying about my next meal.

Yet just as the story was maintaining decent numbers and heading toward its finale, a string of misfortunes piled up and I fell into a slump. The words wouldn’t come. No matter how hard I forced them out, I couldn’t break a thousand characters, and what I produced was nothing but a bizarre jumble of letters. It had never been like this before. In the past, simply sitting at my desk would make my hands move on their own. Now it felt as if something inside me had broken; the words simply refused to flow.

Still, under my manager’s constant pressure, I somehow squeezed out another ten chapters even if it meant destroying my upload schedule. The readers’ reactions were merciless.

The view count had already been cut in half two chapters earlier. In the end I lost both the ability and the will to write. I no longer had the strength left to squeeze out even a single sentence.

The comment that cut deepest of all was this one.

I knew that. The ending was right in front of me. All that remained was for the protagonist to stand at the head of the united human forces and fight the final battle against the enemy Ma-in faction. I, the author, knew better than anyone that the story would end within thirty chapters. But what was I supposed to do when the words wouldn’t come? I had thrown every tantrum, every desperate act, every pathetic trick in the book, yet nothing worked. What the hell did they want from me?

“Fuck… I want to write it too…”

I clutched my hair, then finally placed my hands back on the keyboard. I ended up committing one of the things an author should never do.

I had picked a fight with the readers, unable to contain my frustration. By the time I came to my senses it was already too late. Even if I deleted the comment now, the notification history would remain.

“This crazy bastard—”

A curse slipped out before I could stop it. Did he think I chose not to use Selection and Concentration? What a complete lunatic.

A reply appeared instantly. Help? With what? Surely not with writing the ending?

“Hah. Who the hell are you?”

As if he could write it for me. What a ridiculous reader. Still… if this bastard could actually give my trash novel a proper ending, I was desperate enough to accept even his help. Even if the final chapter only got double-digit views, as long as I could finish it, I would take it.

I hit enter and leaned back in my chair as if collapsing. What on earth was I doing? I should be using this time to write. …Though even if I tried, I’d only manage a few sentences before tearing my hair out again.

“Hey, you little shit.”

The reply came like clockwork. He said he would help and this was all he gave me? Everyone offers encouragement. Even my parents in heaven are probably cheering me on right now. Idiot. I was the fool for expecting anything from him.

“Haa…”

I took off my glasses and squeezed my eyes shut. Staring at the monitor all day had left my eyes painfully dry. Even so, I hadn’t written a single character today. Still, I had to write something. Even if it was trash that would earn me curses from the readers, even if it was only five hundred characters, I had to produce something.

The moment I opened my eyes with that thought—

“Ugh… what the hell is this?”

A wave of nausea hit me as if someone had grabbed my skull and shaken it violently. My feet still felt planted on the ground, yet my vision spun and everything blurred.

*

When the dizziness finally faded and the headache stopped, I opened my eyes again. Pure white filled my entire field of vision. Had I accidentally pressed Alt-Tab and opened Notepad?

“……?”

No. This wasn’t a computer screen. It was a sheet of white paper. Once I regained my senses I realized a pen was gripped in my right hand. What was I even writing?

The paper was covered in strange, alien characters. The uniform handwriting and size suggested it hadn’t been written by hand but printed. What on earth was this?

“# ##? ## #####.”

“Excuse me?”

I looked up at the unfamiliar voice. An unfamiliar outfit, an unfamiliar language, an unfamiliar man… He held out his hand as if demanding something. What the hell was going on? A moment ago I had been in my own room.

The messages flashed before my eyes like subtitles, moving so quickly I couldn’t read them properly. Something about data, settings, difficulty…?

“I told you to submit it. Time’s up. Hand it over.”

“……?”

The man who had been speaking an unknown language was now speaking Korean. Or rather, it was being translated into Korean for me. Was this because of that “Translation” ability that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had flashed by earlier? The paper I had been holding was now in the man’s hand.

As he walked away I caught a glimpse of the text at the bottom of the sheet.

Freyja Imperial University Application Form…

Freyja Imperial University. That name sounded familiar. …Wait.

“Freyja Imperial University?!”

“Whoa.”

“Why is that guy suddenly acting like that?”

Only then did I look around at the whispering voices. People stood in a long line along one wall of the corridor. I was right in the middle of them.

Freyja Imperial University. The main setting of the novel I had written. And this place looked exactly like… the entrance examination hall of the Imperial Academy?

“Next. Examinee number three. Interview room one.”

“Next. Examinee number four. Interview room two.”

What the hell was going on? First, I needed to calm down and assess the situation. The medieval-style pillars, the corridor covered in a fantasy-style red carpet. The people with hair of every color—red, gold, green. And above all, the unfamiliar language (which now sounded like Korean) and the words Freyja Imperial University.

No matter how I looked at it, I seemed to have possessed a character inside my own novel.

But why, for fuck’s sake?

The answer came to me immediately.

Shall I help you, Author-nim?

It had to be that lunatic who wrote the comment. He said he wished me luck and that I should reach the ending I wanted… Did he mean for me to go inside the novel myself and finish it?

“God damn it.”

This had to be a hidden camera prank, right? Or maybe some kind of hypnosis therapy? There was no way this was real. Right?

“Examinee number ten.”

“…Huh?”

“No talking while waiting.”

“Ugh… yes…”

An employee who had been circling the area suddenly grabbed my shoulder. It didn’t look like he had used much strength, yet I felt an excruciating pain as if my shoulder blade would shatter. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I hunched over instinctively.

At least the pain told me this wasn’t a dream… But since when were random employees at the Imperial Academy this strong? No. I was the one who was weak.

Whose body did I possess…?

Ignoring the throbbing pain in my shoulder, I raised both hands and examined them. Large palms covered in calluses. Clearly not a noble magician. A prospective knight from a commoner background, then?

Another set of subtitles scrolled across my retina. Stats? There hadn’t been any stat system in my novel. …Or so I thought. Come to think of it, there was. I had never mentioned it in the actual story, but I had recorded stats in a separate setting document to balance the characters. I had never brought it up in the author’s notes, so how had it been implemented here?

Anyway, if these were truly my current body’s stats, I was in serious trouble. The average stat for characters I had designed was ten. In the latter half of the novel, major characters often exceeded one hundred in certain stats. Yet aside from Health, Strength, and Mana Sensitivity, every single one of mine fell below ten.

I was screwed.

“…Examinee.”

“……”

“Examinee number ten.”

“…Ah? Yes?”

“Proceed to the special examination room.”

When I came to my senses, everyone who had been standing in front of me had disappeared. I was now at the very front of the line. The employee pointed toward a large door at the end of the corridor. As far as I remembered, no one else had gone that way. Why me?

“Why am I the only one getting special—”

“We do not tolerate delays.”

“Yes…!”

When the employee reached for my shoulder again I quickly stepped away.

Special Examination Room.

The temporary sign hanging on the door made me swallow nervously the moment I saw it. …My body had reacted on its own. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I had no idea what was inside, yet my body seemed to sense something and had tensed up instinctively.

The entrance exam was so early in the story that my memory of it was hazy. What exactly was the special examination room for? Not that it mattered. I would go in, tell them there had been a mistake and that I had no intention of taking the exam, then leave. After that I would get out of the Imperial Academy and calmly assess the situation.

“…Excuse me.”

The moment I opened the door I was greeted by a massive room with no windows. Could this even be called a room? The ceiling was at least three stories high. It felt more like an auditorium or a warehouse.

“Examinee number ten! Come in! And close the door!”

“Hah.”

A clear, high-pitched female voice rang out from far away. The instant I heard it—and saw the faint silhouette in the distance—I knew exactly who it was. Even though I had never seen or heard her before, she looked exactly as I had imagined her.

Alexia von dem Cloist.

Chairwoman of Freyja Imperial University.

…And the strongest Ma-in in existence.

The character who had only existed in text form was now standing right in front of me.

“Examinee number ten… that would be Schluss Heinkel, correct?”

“Chairwoman, this is a blind interview. Mentioning names is—”

“It’s fine! The special exam is entirely at my discretion anyway, isn’t it?”

“Well, that’s true, but…”

A character I had created was breathing, moving, and speaking right before my eyes. Every novelist’s dream was unfolding in front of me.

Then perhaps that person was also inside this novel… No. That was impossible. That character only appeared after the story had stopped being a story. He wouldn’t exist in this world.

Anyway, the name of the person I had possessed was Schluss Heinkel.

…I had no memory of that name at all. None whatsoever. Was he an extra who only showed his face briefly in the early chapters? That didn’t make sense. A name like that would mean he was a commoner…

“Schluss?”

“Yes?”

“Then let’s begin the exam!”

“Ah, actually, there seems to be some kind of mistake—”

“It’s been so long! About three years, isn’t it?”

Alexia cut me off with that booming voice of hers. That self-centered personality that showed zero consideration for others was exactly as I had written it without thinking.

“It has been three years, right?”

“Yes. The last time someone applied for a double major was three years ago.”

“……?”

“Combat Magic Studies! And Elemental Magic Studies! The rule is that anyone wishing to major in more than one department must take my special exam! Are you ready?”

What? Double major? What was she talking about?

Oh no.

I suddenly remembered the application form. There had been multiple checkboxes for departments. In my confusion right after possessing this body, had I accidentally checked two of them?

“N-no, there appears to be some misunderstanding—”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re not ready! We’ll begin now!”

Would you please listen to me, you crazy woman? Then why did you even ask if I was ready?

“All right! Be-giiin!”

“Wait, fuck—”

The moment I finally lost my temper and started cursing, my vision suddenly flooded with pitch blackness. I was certain I had moved my lips to finish the swear, yet only the first syllable was audible before all sound was cut off.

What is this?

It wasn’t that all sensation had disappeared. I could still feel my limbs, but both sight and hearing had been blocked. I moved my arms and legs, trying to figure out what was happening, when I suddenly felt a wave.

It wasn’t wind against my skin, nor was it sound. It was a wave that could not be perceived by any of the five human senses. I was feeling with my sixth sense the very same wave that I had only ever described in text within the novel.

I had never felt it before, yet I understood immediately. This was undoubtedly the magical wavelength emitted by a spell formula as the magic activated. It was probably the formula for the barrier that had trapped me in darkness.

Another subtitle appeared. A quest? That wasn’t something I had set up in my novel. It must have been added by whoever sent me here.

Barrier of Terror… The name sounded familiar but I couldn’t quite recall it. If it was a barrier, escaping through normal means would be impossible. Did that mean I was supposed to use one of the “abilities” I had been given earlier?

Merely thinking about the abilities made the list appear automatically. Selection and Concentration. What kind of ability was this?

I understood. If I used this skill on Strength, my stat would become 12 + 99 = 111, granting me power on the level of the strongest beings in the world. For exactly three seconds, anyway.

That reader’s note was written without a single ounce of shame. …Anyway. Which stat should I raise to escape this barrier?

The answer was obvious. Processing Power. In my novel, magic was a phenomenon created when “spell formulas” used magic power as an energy source. Therefore, destroying the formula would stop the magic. I had described the process of dismantling a formula as “calculation.” Just as a computer solves complex equations, one had to reverse-calculate the formula, find its security vulnerabilities, and strike them to break it apart.

Selection and Concentration. Apply to Processing Power.

The moment I silently recited the command, the effect manifested instantly. My mind split into two, three, then dozens of separate consciousnesses, and an overwhelming flood of information from each of them poured in. It was manageable now because my sight and hearing were blocked; if dozens of visual and auditory inputs had flooded in at once, I can’t imagine how it would have felt.

Time was limited to three seconds. I closed my eyes and gently analyzed the magical waves brushing against me like tickling feathers. I knew nothing about magic, yet my brain performed trillions of calculations per second, inferring the shape of the spell formula from its regular waves and grasping its structure.

When I mathematically visualized the code-like structure, several beautiful geometric patterns rose in my mind. No matter how I prodded them, the patterns remained firm. But there—between them—a single faintly glowing point. Instinctively I reached for it, and cracks began to spread across the glowing patterns.

The fractures at the edges seemed to mend themselves, but they could not stop the wave of destruction that had begun at the center.

Crack…!

Craaaack…!

Finally the beautiful spell shattered, and the dark veil lifted.