The morning light crept in through the high window, slanting across the modest wooden floorboards. It caught the thin steam still rising from Ruvian’s skin, tracing his collarbone, gliding over his bare neck.

His damped, tousled hair swept casually to the side, holding the remaining traces of freshness from the wooden bathtub.

It was a quiet hour, early before the rooster called. He had bathed alone, as most did at this hour. Now dressed and towelling his hair absentmindedly, Ruvian stood by the window of his small, neat room.

He looked toward the floating sapphire grimoire that still hung before his eyes—the [Editorial System] interface, faintly translucent.

‘Weird, what with the sudden spike? Why did my Plot Points suddenly reach [+2010 PP]?’

Then, he mumbled under his breath, more to himself than to the system.

“Maybe it's a starter pack or something, anyway, the blindfolded woman said the quest functions would activate immediately...”

His fingers tapped once in the air near the [Quest] tab, but no new notification had appeared.

“Then why have I not received anything yet…?” he murmured, brows faintly drawn as he studied the dormant text.

‘Was it because I was still too far removed from the main narrative?’

He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair, watching as a single droplet fell and darkened the wooden floor beneath him.

And then, as though summoned not by intention but sheer frustration, the interface glowed.

A low, calm chime echoed in the space between silence and thought, and the System awakened.

Ding!

A new window emerged, clean and simple, floating just above eye level:

[INITIALIZATION: STRATEGIC ALIGNMENT]

[Query: What is your plan for the calamity to come?]

[Please, share it with me…]

Ruvian blinked, taken aback. He frowned slightly, though his reaction wasn’t annoyance, more a quiet readiness.

[Note: Quests will be generated in alignment with your intended strategy. The clearer your direction, the more efficient the guidance.]

Ruvian let out a breath through his nose, not quite a laugh, but something close to it.

“Alright then…” his voice was low, and his eyes locked on the interface.

“I want to stay in the background, not as a spectator, but a quiet hand guiding things forward. I want to push the protagonist, elevate the side characters, shape the cast from the shadows, but all while keeping myself relevant. Not centre stage but close enough to turn things around when it matters.”

There was a pause, a processing delay that made the air feel heavier.

[CALCULATING TRAJECTORY…]

[Analysing relational threads… measuring arc significance… tracing protagonist influence… cross-referencing past, present, and potential interactions.]

[Projecting viable pathway…]

And then came the result, stark, almost insulting in its finality.

[Projected Success Probability: 26%]

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Ruvian stared at the number.

“…26%?” he said at last, slowly, as if the number might change if he said it aloud.

“That’s… generous.” His voice was full of sarcasm and a weary surprise. He exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Then finally, with a tone more resigned than frustrated, he asked quietly:

“Fine. Then tell me,” he closed his eyes for a moment, and when they opened, his gaze was clear, and sharp.

“What’s the pathway with the highest success rate?”

The system responded instantly.

[Query accepted.]

[Compiling optimal narrative alignment…]

And then, with mechanical calm, the numbers solidified:

[Highest Calculated Success Probability: 49%]

“That’s it…?” he murmured, eyes narrowing at the modest glow of the number above. “All that processing, and the best you’ve got is 49%?”

The number pulsed faintly, unwavering.

Still, the system wasn’t finished.

[Optimal Pathway Identified:]

[Proactive Catalyst Integration with Primary Protagonist Arc]

[Selective Empowerment of Chosen Side Characters: Top priority = Calyra Arcanis & Rosalin Varion] Newest update provided by novelFɪre.net

[Direct Engagement with Central Conflicts…]

Ruvian frowned deeper, reading the phrasing twice, then a third time.

“…So basically,” he muttered, tapping the floating text with a dry expression, “I need to stay near the protagonist, meddle with the story’s key events and help the two characters grow stronger?”

The system responded, perhaps too cheerfully.

[Interpretation Acceptable.]

Ruvian let out a sigh, dragging his hand across his face.

‘Of course, that was the most effective method.’

He understood why this was the best chance because the system believed in the protagonist’s strength.

It was because the protagonist was already inside the flow of fate, already woven into the arc structure of the world.

‘But that bastard didn't manage to save anyone due to his naive thinking… Wait, was this the same pathway as the original story that the author had written? It could be since Calyra and Rosalin were also the main heroines in the novel.’

His fingers twitched as the system window hovered closer, awaiting his decision.

Only a 49% chance of success.

But in this world? That was the closest thing to hope he was ever going to get. Ruvian’s gaze lingered on the glowing words for a few more seconds. But then, without so much as a sigh, he sat on the bed and muttered, quiet but absolute.

“No.”

He stared at the system, the soft glow of its hovering glyphs caught the early morning light.

“No. I’ll do it my own way…”

Ruvian then explained to the system what his plan was. The system merely dimmed briefly. He turned his back on it, walking toward the chair where his clothes were folded neatly over its backrest.

The moment he adjusted the cuffs on his collar, the system chimed faintly behind him.

[Independent Narrative Pathway Chosen.]

[Calculating new success probability…]

[Projected Pathway Viability: 21%]

Ruvian glanced over his shoulder at the number, unmoved.

It should’ve sounded damning, foolish even when compared to the previous 49%, the result born from cooperating directly with the protagonist’s arc.

But instead, he found himself nodding slightly in recognition as if this was the number he had expected all along.

Because it made sense. This was a harder path, no doubt about it but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

In fact, he preferred it.

Not because he wanted the odds stacked against him, but because the system’s numbers didn’t measure everything. They measured probability, not potential. And that was the distinction.

“49% was the system’s safe route.”

He paused, then stared toward the light filtering in across the wooden floorboards, his mind returning to something the blindfolded woman had never said aloud, but something that had been written clearly enough in the silence between her words.

It was never about strength alone.

Because Zian, the actual protagonist of this damnable novel, had strength. And still, he failed.

Not because he wasn’t powerful enough. But because he couldn’t be everywhere at once. The calamity didn’t arrive as a single monster to be defeated in a single battle.

It was a storm made of many falling pieces, collapsing across multiple fronts at once, an unravelling of order, of lives, of places where the story simply broke beyond what a lone hero could patch.

Even if Zian survived, even if he killed the final enemy, it would still be counted as a failure if too much was lost along the way.

And that was exactly what happened.

So, no. Ruvian wasn’t going to make the same mistake. He wasn’t going to stake everything on one hero.

‘This world needs more than one hero.’

He turned back toward the interface.

Ruvian’s job wasn’t to become the next protagonist, or even to stand beside him as his moral compass.

His job… was to expand the board.

That's what he told the system.

The system’s probability wasn’t just a measure of how likely he was to survive the calamity.

It was a measure of how likely he was to succeed at his own insane blueprint. A 21% chance didn’t mean failure. It meant the scale of his plan was simply far bigger, the moving parts far more delicate, the risks far more difficult to manage.

After all, raising one character was easy.

Raising dozens or hundreds with all their conflicting personalities, secrets, weaknesses, and arcs?

That was a monster of a task.

But if he pulled it off, if he really pushed the cast forward, inspired relevance in even the most forgotten fragments of the story, then the impact wouldn’t just match the original protagonist’s.

It would surpass it.

He would become the system’s outlier.