23 Plot Versions

"What do you need from me?" asked Gris, thinking Solnisca was too hasty.

Solnisca withdrew her hand and stared directly into Gris' eyes. "The Route of Death. If you progress well, you could be one of the strongest characters, just like in the original."

"Why do you fight so hard to stay alive?"

"I don't want to meet my end before facing that cursed author!"

Now, Solnisca's gaze brimmed with vengeance. Veins tightened on her face as she clenched her teeth. It was evident she harbored intense hatred towards the author, the prime suspect behind her transmigration.

"Thought I'd finally catch a break and retire early, all thanks to my sweat and toil," she spoke with trembling lips as she held back a burst of anger. "But as I set out for leisure, I was whisked to this peculiar realm. That damn author! He's got a spiteful streak just cause I tossed a few curses."

Gris recalled that he had once left a protest comment on the author. He asked curiously, "Did you also criticize the plot like me?"

"Kind of," Solnisca shrugged her shoulders, making Gris frown. "I'd been a faithful reader for ages, but that author kept tweaking the storyline. It irked me, so I let out a curse or two for changing the plot too much."

"Well, that's news to me."

"Perhaps you missed it, or you're a new reader. When I spoke up, he replied I could craft my own plot. And that's how I..."

The memory of her death in a plane crash still haunted Solnisca. She let out a rough exhale and covered her face with both hands, trying to block out the painful recollection.

"Look, I suffer from *hyperthymesia. That means I recall every detail with clarity. I can recount every version of 'Rise of the Low-class Hero.' But this world... it strays from any plot."

For the first time since meeting Solnisca, Gris wore a surprised expression mixed with tenseness. It was not surprising for him to discover she was a fellow transmigrator like himself.

He had anticipated beforehand. Once he knew the novel had several versions of the plot, he could not help but feel betrayed.

Being a transmigrator had its advantages: knowing what would happen, almost like having a glimpse of the future.

"Darn it all. I've even noted the storyline I recall," Gris cursed as his mind was stuck. He snapped his fingers as he realized something. "Hold on. We could have transmigrated to the novel whose plot I read!"

Solnisca removed her hands from her face. "I've delved into your memories of that novel, and indeed, the plot doesn't align."

"Could you provide an instance?"

"Well, in the novel, Empress Lyora wedded my father, the serpent fellow, due to his knack for predicting calamities conjured by the Cataclysmic Sorcerer. But in truth, she tied the knot with him because the snake man has two penises!"

Gris remained silent when Solnisca shouted, "Every damn thing's gone to hell!" while hitting the wall of the carriage.

"Isn't there a better illustration? What about our main man, Lux?"

"Truth be told, I'd rather steer clear of that topic 'cause it's a load of rubbish," Solnisca rubbed her sore, reddened knuckles. "Well, it seems he's the sole character who snugly fits any version. Don't even consider laying a hand on him. He's practically invincible cause the author keeps slapping on plot armor."

The dream realm was connected to reality because the souls of sleeping humans roamed there. Dying there and not being able to get up again is the same as death. 

Solnisca tried to eliminate Lux's soul several times but always failed. She could not kill strong souls because they would immediately wake up and consider it a nightmare. But the weird thing was that Lux's soul quality was still low.

"Work with me if you aim to uncover more," Solnisca grinned at Gris, who eagerly awaited her next story.

Gris narrowed his eyes. "You deceitful scoundrel. It's plain as day you've got a crew. I bet you've pulled this stunt on other transmigrants, too. With your class, there's no way you haven't reeled anyone in yet."

"You prick. I knew you wouldn't be easy to outmaneuver," Solnisca sighed in disappointment. Her face became expressionless. "You've got it. I've rounded up a crew. Tag along if you're curious."

"Let's see what your gang's made of when we hit the academy."

As Gris uttered those words, the carriage came to a halt. He quickly stepped off to lend a hand to Solnisca.

"Make sure you look after yourself, 'cause I'm not about to lose a talent like you," Solnisca whispered as she accepted Gris' hand to disembark from the carriage.

She glanced at the coachman and gave him a pretty smile. The coachman could only respond awkwardly.

From the start, he had heard Gris and Solnisca's conversation. He thought he was from the lower class and could not understand what they discussed.

The only thing he could grasp was that both Gris and Solnisca used harsh words. It surprised him because everyone praised the princess's kindness.

'No one will believe me if I spread this. I might get arrested for libel and slander,' the coachman thought as he saw Solnisca being welcomed respectfully by the people in the alchemist's guild.

Gris also received a warm welcome since he had come for Blayz, who was busy taking care of the areas affected by the Tenth Apocalypse Wave.

He mingled with the others and responded to them politely. But his mind was still wandering over Solnisca's words.

As for the plot, he had already recovered from the shock. After all, the original plot had already been broken the moment he behaved differently from his original character.

What made him overthink was the characters. Although the plot could change, the characters' traits should still be similar to the novel.

However, since Solnisca stated that there were multiple versions of the plot, Gris could not utilize the characters list he had created.

'Come to think of it, Alaric is also a bit strange. I can't judge the other characters based on the novel from now on.'

Gris felt dizzy. This state seemed more like reincarnation than transmigration to the familiar world.

No wonder Solnisca appeared furious when discussing the author. That person had tossed her into a new world just when she started to find happiness, much like Gris had been content after resigning from his job before being unexpectedly pulled here.

"Young Master, it's Lady Gwendolyn," Leander whispered as Gris seemed to daydream.

Gris snapped back to reality and turned towards a tall, slender, brunette girl who conversed with several people.