He didn't let go of the blade; instead, his fingers tightened, and his wrist continued to make a slow and steady pivot. He fought it, his arm and shoulder muscles clenching, but he was fighting himself. His arm shook. Yet the blade continued to move inexorably towards the angle it needed.
“Shit. Shit. Shit” The Crucible was reaffirming who was the boss. He couldn't go out this way, with his head like a pumpkin at Halloween, carved into a devilish mask with a dull but effective blade.
He couldn’t move his left arm, but the right one, the one holding the meter stick, was still free. He needed to cut the connection, and so, for the first time since he had gained it in science, he cast Edit Strike. If any moment needed a deliberate and momentary rewriting of reality, it was this one. He sent the spell down the length of the stick. It fired like a laser, not wide or flash, but a single razor-thin line slid down its edge. The meter stick hummed. He swung it at the looped tether strand, and like with his pen in class, he attempted to make a correction.
The stick didn't pass through the tether. Is struck against it. Two rigid objects connected with a smack. He could feel the tension between the two down the length of his arm. One of these objects would have to give. It was the tether. With a sound that was remarkably like a page being torn from a book, it snapped. The connection was broken, and Remi was free. The blade clattered to the ground. A small pool of blood welled from the red connection point in his palm. The tether was gone, but the scar would be permanent.
The copier was down to just above half of its original HP, and Remi had taken some damage with his misstep and was at 35/45 HP. That wasn't great. But his Mana Pool was in even worse shape at below 50%. He had entered the fight below max, having found no way to replenish his mana yet, and so couldn't really afford to keep just chaining spells together. He also noticed that his inkwell had climbed during the fight from 38% to 52%. It was far from being full, but he was happy that it could fill during the fight, giving him a potential opportunity of using it mid-combat. That was unlikely here, but was still good to know.
The machine interrupted his battlefield assessment with a high-volume sound burst. The golem’s movement stilled. Then, a low seismic hum built. Remi could see the toner core inside the machine compressed, a status update scrolled across its panelled chest:
[Toner Core Self-Destruct Initialized]
[Overload: 32%]
The number was steadily climbing. Remi estimated he had less than a minute to figure this out. He tensed, ready to pummel it like he had the Papyropede. But he saw it there. Edit Strike wasn't on cooldown. It was still there, ready to be cast. He wasn't sure why, but wouldn't let his fortune go to waste. Despite his injured hand, he reached beneath the golem’s plastic armour, touching its molten core. He felt the heat sear his flesh and could hear the sizzle. Through gritted teeth, “This does not belong here!” He cast the spell.
The words land like a cursor blink. On and then off. The humming stopped, and the countdown vanished at 48%. Remi yanked out his hand, uncaring of the cuts he took to its top. Because while the core was rapidly cooling, it was still too hot for contact. His health had again taken a dip, 27/45, and he had less than 20% of his mana pool available. He had maybe enough for one or two more spells.
Knowing it would hurt, he ignored the thought and cast mana lash on the chopper blade, drawing the weapon into his hand. The bladed lifted. Not fast, but smoothly. It turned itself in midair - the blade pointing down; the handle slipped into Remi’s outstretched hand. He was too close to use it as a flail, so he lashed it tightly to himself. The tether coiled like loops of leather, binding the weapon to his hand and wrist. It wasn't elegant, but the tether would be less exposed against his body. He knew this would limit his ability to cast spells from his left hand, but that was okay; his next move was going to be a physical one.
But he needed to be sure. He didn't immediately strike, rather opting to step in close, close enough that he could smell the scorched toner and melting plastic, and looked. He was looking for an internal metal structure, rough but fixed. His inspect ability showed him that there was indeed a melted strip on the golem’s left flank, just beneath the now broken scanner tray. He saw it—a corrugated metal bar. It was likely one of the main guide rails that was used to align the internal print heads and drawers. The earlier impact partially sheared it, which made it no longer aligned with the frame; instead, the rod curved inward. Ideal as it was now connected directly to the toner core housing bracket.
Remi stood. He wouldn't hesitate again. Using the bound blade like a rapier, he lunged, thrusting into the machine. He didn't aim for the guide rail itself, but just above it, where the metal joined the frame. He needed to anchor the blade firmly, and he needed to do so with the sharp end resting on the metal bar. The cutter arm slammed into the casing, exactly where he hoped it would. It punched through the remaining armour. Small sparks flew, toner hissed, and the golem lurched. Remi could feel it stiffen through his arm, as if it expected what he had planned.
The sparks let him know he was on the right track. The golem’s weakness was fire, so it was time that Remi started one. He didn't yank the blade free; he pushed it against the bar, and drug it deliberately across the exposed metal. He wasn't trying to cut; he was trying to ignite. The blade grated across the rail, the chips along its edge catching on the corrugated surface, and in one quick stroke there was a flash. Orange-white sparks burst outward. They rained down on the toner cartridge and exposed wiring of the copier. They crawled downward and then FWUMP! A bloom of fire erupted from the golem’s side. It was more smoke that flame, but it was hot. It smelled of chemicals and burnt wire. The left torso was burning.
Like a zombie in an apocalypse film, the golem lumbered forward to once again try to clamp onto Remi’s exposed arm. But this time he was prepared.
“Not this time, buddy!” He jerked his arm back; the scanner lid snapped on empty air. Remi knew his use for the blade was done, but he didn't have time to unlash it now. He needed a free hand, so he dropped his meter stick. His fingers opened, and he let it clatter to the floor.
He had just enough mana for one more lashing and a push. He glanced at the stacked copy paper, aiming not for a box, but a specific ream within. Using Mana Lash, with a crackle of unseen energy, the tether snaked out, and the parchment slid through the air towards him as he drew it to himself. The sealed ream of paper, still shrink-wrapped, shot towards him. Tearing through the cardboard box and causing its plastic strap to snap. It sped towards him, but before it could get to him, he turned his pull gesture into a push forward.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
His arm moved in a piston motion, and he cast Mana Push. He directed the paper downwards and into the cracked copier casing. Towards the waiting fire. The bundle flipped in midair and slammed straight into the burning cavity on the golem’s left side.
The wrapping melted, and the paper ignited. The small fire, having an easier source of fuel, flared. Smoke billowed from the machine, and bits of glowing ash circulated in the air. The golem’s limbs seized; the red eyes glitched. This was almost over, and they both knew it. Remi just had to finish him!
He walked over towards the broken box, past the sparking frame of the golem, unlashing the blade as he went, allowing it too to fall to the floor. He knelt, ensuring he lifted with his knees. Not sure if he would sustain a back injury, given his upgraded strength, but why risk things? Carrying the box back through the smoke and with a grunt, set it slowly down on its chest, twenty pounds of Grade A high school fire starter. The box landed with a soft thud.
He smiled. “Don’t forget to fill the copier, Remi!” A single line scrolls across his HUD.
[ADMIN REMINDER ACKNOWLEDGED]
[PROCESS COMPLETE]
The golem didn’t explode, but it burned. And Remi stood there and watched. Eventually, the glow dimmed, the whir of vents ceased, and a final, dusty puff of toner drifted out. Remi couldn’t just leave it burning, especially right next to the book room. So he waited until his mana had ticked back up enough to cast a Mana Push. His hands, dark against the flickering orange glow, moved in tandem. He brought them down, a forceful movement that pushed the air out of the crackling fire. It sputtered and died.
With the same leisurely pace that he had watched the fire, Remi walked over. And found himself another ream of paper. He cracked it over his knee, with the practice of one who knows, and extracted a single sheet of clean white paper. The fire may be out, but this fight wasn't quite over.
He returned to the downed and smoldering corpse of the golem, squatted and dipped two fingers into the mixture pooled beneath it. Slowly, he stirred until the ash, toner ink, and grease congealed into a draggable paste. He stood, walked to the locked door of the book room and pressed the paper flat against the door. With deliberate strokes he wrote, Remi Page, followed by I finished your paperwork.
There was a soft click behind the paper as the door unlatched.
[NARRATIVE CONFLUX RESOLVED]
Story Thread: Stabilized
Door Access: Granted
C-RANK ENTITY REDACTED
Narrative Survival Rating (NSR): Increase=6.5
XP: +250
[QUEST COMPLETE: Find the Library]
XP: +150
Ding! [LEVEL UP: 6]
XP: 1170/1350
“You didn’t just survive. You wrote your way through.”
Remi knew there would be a loot crate. There had to be, but he would grab it on his way out. He had a Codex that he was going to retrieve first. He opened the door and stepped into the tiny room; it was more like a glorified closet that stretched an impossibly long way. A tunnel, with both sides lined with novel sets. Remi walked among the shelves, fingers trailing along the spines, leaving streaks of toner graffiti behind. The Codex could be anywhere, but he knew it would stand out. He also understood that all stories liked unity.
He walked along the shelves, noting the titles as he passed by. The Alchemist, a story of a man on a quest. Maybe he thought, but no. The Wars. Funnily appropriate, but he knew this too was wrong. And then he saw it. He found it there, not misfiled, but nested. Tucked in the middle of the class set of Lord of the Flies. Waiting, like the conch waiting for Piggy. A leather-bound book. A Codex. An ancient-looking tomb that did not belong in a room like this. It pulsed faintly at the edges; its cover shimmered where light met ink.
Without further ceremony, he reached out. The leather felt dry and heavy in his hand; it wasn't warm exactly, but it felt like it had been waiting for him. The moment his fingers closed around the spine, Remi felt a click, like something he didn't know what was missing had finally slotted into place.
[CODEX ACQUIRED]
[ANNOTATION ABILITY UNLOCKED]
A glow rippled across the edge of the tomb, like static dancing down the margin of a page. He wouldn't open it yet. That could wait. For now, he turned and walked back into the copy room. The light was still low, and the smoke was finally settling. The copier was a scorched husk of its former self. Near where it rested, there was a small glint. It was there, the loot crate. It hovered slightly off the ground, rotating slowly, outlined in pale gold. Remi reached for it, asking it to open.
[LOOT CRATE ACQUIRED: Administrative Archive Crate]
It contained only one thing.
[NEW ITEM: The Rune of the Bent Paperclip]
Tier: Incipient
Type: Weapon Rune (Activatable)
Source: Extracted from the toner-scarred core of the Photocopier Golem
Attached To: TBA
The Rune of the Bent Paperclip protects an action—physical or verbal—from duplication, redaction, or erasure. It is a narrative lock-seal, born from a boss designed to duplicate, jam, and overwrite.
- Requires mana channeled into the bound weapon
- Must be held actively during the annotation or action
- Triggered through a narrative-valid gesture
- The next hit, spell, or narrative line gains a [Permanent Mark]
- Once marked, that action becomes uneditable, non-duplicable, and immune to change
The rune was drawn on a piece of paper. It resembled a broken paperclip, twisted open at one corner. Remi set the paper on top of his meter stick, right where his thumb usually rested. There was a hissing sound, and the rune burned through the paper, leaving a charred, warped loop, delicately etched into the woodgrain of the stick.
[ITEM UPGRADED: Corrector Arm]
Type: Hybrid Weapon / Spell Conduit
Status: Rune-Bound
Attached Rune: Rune of the Bent Paperclip (Incipient Tier)
While gripped and charged with mana, it can seal an action with a Permanent Mark, making the next strike, cast, or spoken line immune to edits, duplication, or redaction.
Remi now had a new Codex and a runic meter stick. Outstanding. Potentially overpowered. He could almost feel a nerf incoming. Whatever. For now, Remi couldn’t wait to try them out.