[ — Hunter Stats —
Skill: Novel Raider
Type: Innate
Rank: Unique
Info: A skill born from a reader’s deepest longing to step beyond the page and into the world within.
Effects:
i) Read: The reader perfectly recalls everything they have ever read.
ii) Raid: When activated, the reader can randomly raid one of their favourite novels.
iii) Record: A grimoire that takes the shape of the novel the raider is raiding, substituting their physical presence in reality as they raid fiction, all while recording and preserving the raid progress and results.
iv) Reward: Upon a successful raid, all skills, knowledge, and experience carry over. Physical items and assets are archived and can be manifested in reality at the raider’s convenience.
Notes:
i) Each novel or complete individual volume can only be raided once, in sequential order.
ii) Upon entry, the raider’s consciousness inhabits an assigned role in the novel.
iii) Roles are assigned based on compatibility, soul affinity, and destiny — granting the character’s memories, background, and relationships while preserving the raider’s original personality.
iv) Clearing a raid requires surviving to the novel’s end. Death inside is permanent. Real-world time advances only by the minimum time it took the raider to read that novel cover to cover.]
I read through the skill description twice, the second time out of utter disbelief. I snapped out of it hearing the heavy metal door buckled again with a horrific screech.
Going through the combined list of novels my late parallel self and I have read in our lifetimes, I slapped my palms on my forehead in despair, wondering why we both had to be a gritty horror enthusiast instead of slice of life or smut? Heck, I would have happily settled for fluffy romance novels right now.
I snapped out of my thoughts as the door buckled a third time, the metal shrieking as the dent deepened. I had five minutes left at most. Maybe less.
Amidst the urgency and panic it hit me I could take my chances with Novel Raider skill or with Kobold raider about to break in. Knowing the latter had ninety nine point nine percent chances of me dying, I decided on the Novel Raider skill.
But first, I ran deeper into the archive toward the chief archivist’s private workstation. I scrambled underneath his fancy mahogany desk, curling into a tight ball. I took a deep breath, braced myself, and activated my innate skill, "Raid!"
[ — Novel Raider —
> Randomly selecting a previously read novel to raid...]
Soon various book covers of all the novels I and my late parallel self had read flashed before my eyes before stopping on a generic cover of a half-naked woman firing into a horde of zombies in a burning city. The title screamed at me in bold, embossed crimson letters: Resident Hazard II.
[ — Novel Raider —
> Do you want to raid the novel ’Resident Hazard II’? <Raid/Resign>
Note:
i) Regardless of your choice, Raid or Resign, skill will undergo minimum skill cool down time.
ii) Raiding ’RESIDENT HAZARD II’ will permanently forfeit your ability to raid ’RESIDENT HAZARD I’.]
I stared at it, my hand trembling violently.
My late parallel self had actually read this book and loved it enough to read two more times. Which meant I knew exactly what kind of hellscape I’d be walking into, and activating my skill on this novel would be like leaping out of the frying pan and straight into the fire.
I couldn’t help but curse my late parallel self in my head, why did he have to have the same taste as me when it comes to novels? But beggars can’t be choosers. The heavy vault door let out a tortured groan behind me, the dent stretching visibly wider. Time was completely up.
I glanced at the cover recalling my alternate self’s personal best for devouring this specific book was just over six hours on his third read.
Six hours in the real world. But inside? It would be however long it took to survive the book. What mattered was whether six hours was enough time for the authorities to contain the situation back home. It had to.
"Raid," I whispered aloud, bracing myself for the unknown. The moment that confirmation registered, the mahogany legs of the fancy desk dissolved into darkness with my entire surroundings.
When I could finally see again, I found myself standing in a suffocatingly crowded room, where every single pair of eyes was glued to a television mounted high on the wall. The chaotic local broadcast showed a panicked, surging mass of people trying to flee the city. They were screaming desperately at a massive steel gate that completely blocked the only bridge out.
"Open the gates!"
"You won’t get away with this!"
Meanwhile, the booming megaphones mounted on tall poles above the checkpoint drowned out the angry cries of the mob. A cold, synthetic voice echoed through the speaker:
"This is a biohazard quarantine zone."
"Due to the risk of infection, you cannot be allowed to leave the city."
"All appropriate measures are being taken."
"The situation is under control."
"Please return to your homes."
"You have five seconds to comply."
"Use of live ammunition has been authorised."
"Five. Four. Three. Two. One!"
Pop. Pop-pop. Pop-pop-pop.
The soldiers in black opened fire without a shred of hesitation. They weren’t firing warning shots. The crowd on screen didn’t need to be told twice, they broke and ran, screaming and stampeding back toward the city center in pure animal panic. Yet, the soldiers didn’t cease firing.
The broadcast abruptly cut to harsh, white static.
The crowded room grew deathly quiet, the silence far heavier than before. The suffocating stillness had everything to do with the fact that every single person in here, myself included, was wearing the exact same black tactical uniform as the soldiers who had just opened fire on those civilians.
Soon, our tactical comms buzzed to life in perfect unison, ringing with our new orders direct from corporate command. Looking around at the pale faces, I knew we all had the exact same grim idea of what those orders were going to be.