Chapter 707 Manuscript
In a luxuriously decorated underground study, Doro sat on an exquisite chair, her expression a mix of shock and confusion as she surveyed her surroundings. Even her usually composed demeanor couldn’t hide her surprise at the sudden and drastic transformation.
The room was filled with sturdy, ancient bookshelves, a clean, polished floor, bright lamps casting light everywhere, and rows of well-organized books. People were quietly reading—the place looked more like a fully operational library than a dusty, abandoned underground archive.
Doro had just gone from a creepy, derelict book storage to this unexpectedly vibrant setup without a hint of transition! Sure, she had thought writing her pseudo-history would spark some change, but she never anticipated this level of makeover…
“Where am I? This layout looks like it’s still inside Bastis, but the decor is completely different! And who are these people?” Taking a good look around, Doro quickly realized she and her trusty zombie puppets had somehow ended up in this familiar yet totally alien space. A bunch of people in Northern Ufeiga-style robes were flipping through books, totally ignoring Doro and her zombie entourage as if they didn’t exist.
Doro frowned in thought, recalling that upon entering this strange new world, she overheard a couple of students chatting about a guy named Hakya. “Right… didn’t they mention Hakya? That’s the guy I made up for my history…”
Suddenly, the realization hit her, and Doro froze for a moment before swiftly making her way towards the exit of the underground library. Sure enough, at the spot where she entered, she found a staircase identical in direction and number of steps. Doro hurriedly ascended the stairs and completed the entire passage.
Pushing open a door, she stepped into a vast open area, a huge indoor space with tall columns and rows of bookshelves packed with even more books. People moved between the shelves, searching and browsing. Bright sunlight poured in through large windows, illuminating the room—if the space she had just left was a basement library, this was the real deal.
Once inside this library, Doro quickly glanced around before darting outside, where she was met with a bustling street scene. Countless people in Northern Ufeiga-style robes filled the wide avenue, moving about. Along the way, many camels, laden with hefty goods, wobbled with jangling bells. Numerous stalls lined the street, shouting out their wares—it was a lively spectacle!
Doro stood silently, observing the street. It reminded her of a place she had been, which was eerily quiet. That place had been plagued by disease, cults, and decay; this one burst with vibrant energy.
As Doro continued forward, she descended the steps of the entrance and glanced back. What she saw made her eyebrows raise—a tall, grayish-yellow building with countless large windows. This structure had a style she recognized, but it was the ruined version she had seen after a massive fire.
It was the national library established by the Santo Dynasty! The very building that had once been destroyed by war now stood before her, completely intact.
“This is… amazing…” Doro couldn’t help but murmur, awestruck by the scene before her.
…
In an ancient oasis city amidst a desert, atop a high tower in a palace, a middle-aged man dressed in ornate robes, complete with a feathered turban and a bushy beard, leaned against a railing, gazing out at the sprawling city below. Beside him stood an elderly man in a white robe.
“Your Majesty, this year’s sandstorm in the northern provinces has exceeded expectations. We need to take measures to reduce our losses.”
“Yes, I’ve sent someone to investigate the situation over there. We should begin preparing relief supplies. Oh, and we also need to be on guard! These disasters often attract bandits, so let’s step up our preventive measures…” As the middle-aged man surveyed his prosperous city, he began discussing relief plans with the elderly advisor seated beside him. Unbeknownst to them, a pair of eyes was watching their conversation intently.
At that moment, Doro stood atop the tower, earnestly observing the unfolding scene. Though her gaze was calm, her heart raced with excitement.
She recognized the two men before her—King Hakya and his advisor Hassan. They were characters she had conjured up while crafting the fabricated history for the Santo Dynasty! Hakya didn’t even exist in reality; he was a fictional sixth king of the Santo Dynasty!
“Can you believe it? Fictional characters are now real? That’s mind-blowing! Although, let’s be real—the more unbelievable thing is that a fictional dynasty turned out to be real!” Doro mused internally, still stunned by the absurdity of it all. She turned to face the city, vibrant with life under the sun, which had grown larger and more expansive since her last memory, and yet she could still recognize the architecture reminiscent of Bastis.
This bustling, stable, and prosperous Bastis was in stark contrast to the one in her original reality, ravaged by plagues, wars, and malevolent cults for years.
Doro continued to ponder the astonishing reality that she had stepped into a world crafted from her own imagination, struggling to comprehend how her invented history had morphed into such a tangible reality.
“Is this the miracle created by the residual divine power of the Judge of Heaven? Truly remarkable…” As she took in the sights of the city, Doro began to scrutinize the world she had entered with newfound seriousness.
“Even if I don’t understand how that power operates, if I want to reach Heoperis, I have to engage with this power from the perspective of historical crafting. First, I need to know more about this fabricated historical world. It might give me insights into that divine power…” Doro concluded in her mind as she resolved to thoroughly investigate her new surroundings.
…
Hours later, Doro had conducted a preliminary survey of her pseudo-historical world, learning various traits about the environment she found herself in.
First off, she and some of her zombie puppets had been whisked away to this world without any warning. This was no dream; everything and everyone here existed in reality with their own wills, completely unlike puppets.
The society in this pseudo-historical Bastis was remarkably well-structured. From commoners to officials to royalty, everyone had their own life paths. Everything was in line with the settings Doro had outlined in her historical writing. She had established how the bureaucratic system of the Santo Dynasty evolved during the reign of King Hakya, and indeed, all those officials existed here! The third king erected a memorial in the city center, and viola—there it truly was! Doro had even written that the fourth king married a commoner named Hena; now, her portrait hung in the palace.
The world operated like a seasoned chef meticulously preparing a dish based on Doro’s specifications, transforming her narrative into a living, breathing reality!
Secondly, the connection Doro had to this world was intriguingly one-way; she and a portion of her brought-along zombie puppets were utterly invisible to the people here. No matter what they did or how much noise they made, it seemed as if they were completely absent from this realm.
But that didn’t mean they were really absent! Doro and her zombies could pick up objects, drink the water, and eat the food of this world. If she had her zombie poke someone in the head, they’d feel the headache and look around in confusion trying to figure out who had done it, but they’d see nothing—Doro and the zombies were like phantoms!
She even tried investigating the boundaries of this world. After a short exploration, she found it incredibly vast; even if there were boundaries, they were far off. She could see the whole of Bastis, and even settlements beyond it, bustling with merchants from Busairite discussing news from various places. However, regarding information from anywhere beyond Busairite, Doro never heard a peep from these merchants. In her search for foreign data in the library, she found scant details; it was hard to imagine a capital of a relatively stable and prosperous kingdom entirely devoid of foreigners or even the slightest evidence of outside influence.
Thus, Doro speculated that the limits of this pseudo-historical world might very well be Busairite and investigating the territories beyond might unravel significant truths. But time was of the essence; she couldn’t afford to embark on an expedition to the Busairite border just yet!
Later, Doro examined the relationship between this pseudo-historical world and the real one. After crossing into this realm, her link with the Spiritual Threads of the original world had snapped, but the data channel of the System still worked fine. Doro managed to connect with Neve and Vania from the original world, confirming that nothing had changed on their end, thus solidifying her conclusion that she had entered another pseudo-historical realm—not just that her original world had morphed into this mess.
Finally, she began her search for a way to return to her original world. She arrived in this pseudo-historical framework through crafting history, so the same method should apply for returning.
She discovered that not all her zombie puppets had made it to this world. Only those who had engaged in the historical writing with Doro at the exact moment of her transition had been brought here; those who had stayed behind for security or assistance were left in the original world. This meant that whoever participated in crafting this pseudo-history would also be pulled into this world.
Doro’s entry into this realm was initiated because she had spent sixty years crafting this pseudo-history for the Santo Dynasty, extending their fabricated timeline to the year 1361, achieving a form of synchronization. In this synchronization, she and her zombies had been concurrently transported.
“If synchronizing the timelines of real and fake history is the key to crossing over… then if I just eliminate that synchronization, shouldn’t that do the trick?”
Seated in the once-mythical library of Bastis, Doro gazed at a pile of manuscripts on the wooden table. This was the pseudo-history she had crafted for the Santo Dynasty, and it had been transferred along with her when she arrived in this pseudo-world.
“Year 1361 of the Glimmer Calendar, Year 64 of the Royal Calendar, April 11th. King Hakya receives reports of a disastrous sandstorm from the two eastern provinces and urgently summons his advisor Hassan to the palace for discussion.”
Those last words marked the end of the pseudo-history she had crafted. It was right after she completed that statement that she, along with her zombies, had been transported to this pseudo-historical realm. April 11, 1361, was the same date she’d found herself on in the real world, aligning with the phantom historical timeline.
“If this duality in historical synchronization is the trigger for crossing over…”
Thoughts churned as Doro contemplated, then she reached for a pen, eyeing the last piece she had written. After a moment of thought, she plucked a piece of fruit from her basket and stashed it in her robe pocket, then reached out to ink over that last statement.
Just as her pen lifted from the page, chaos erupted before her eyes! Except for herself, the manuscript, and a few of her zombies interacting with the pages, time and color twisted dramatically around her, swirling in abstract patterns before rapidly settling back down.
When stability returned, Doro could once again see the familiar sight of the dusty study—the rock table, the dust-covered bookshelves, the tattered tomes, and the dim oil lamps slowly reappearing. The exquisitely decorated underground library vanished, and she found herself back in the dilapidated, desolate book storage from which she had originated.
“Phew… it turns out, as long as I dissolve the synchronization, I can return again…”
Getting to her feet, Doro let out a sigh of relief as she looked around, discovering the zombies who hadn’t touched the manuscripts were still lying here, unmoving, while those who had participated in crafting the manuscripts alongside her had returned.
However, a few lingered behind—specifically the ones she’d designated not to interact with the manuscripts, now evidently stuck in the pseudo-historical realm.
Doro instinctively reached into her robe pocket to find the fruit she had tucked away, but her hand grasped only emptiness.
“So, things from the pseudo-history… can’t be transported back to the real world?”
