Bloodscript: Survival Game of the Reborn
“I’m talking to you.”
He turned.
Slowly.
Up close, his face was a swirl of almost‑features: eyes that weren’t eyes, cheekbones that flickered into other people’s, a mouth that never quite lined up with the words.
For a second, seeing me there, his expression… glitched.
“Ah,” he said. “You climbed back up.”
“Sorry to ruin your falling‑into‑nothing ending,” I said. “Readers hate those.”
He smiled, sharp and delighted. “You really do think in stories,” he mused. “No wonder the system likes you.”