The Protagonist's Sister Is Actually The Strongest

Long, long ago, in another world.

There lived a frustrated author.

She was inspired by the novels she read online, one of the billions of readers across the world.

And one of the millions inspired to write her own works. 

She wanted to create her own worlds and her own characters; she wanted to weave a world into existence.

She did her best, worked her hardest, but her first book received bad reviews.

Her pacing was off, her characters were strange and contradicted themselves, and the entire story was structured weirdly.

In that moment, the girl realized that, despite how much she had criticized other authors for novels that frustrated her, writing wasn’t easy. 

She tried again, and again, and again.

Dozens of worlds were woven through her imagination, hundreds of characters constantly born.

But as she published more novels, fewer readers continued reading what she worked on.

Why was that the case? 

[Don’t read this author’s books, they’re all garbage.]

[Her pacing is terrible, and she always makes lame characters!]

[I honestly couldn’t care less about the main character’s feelings. Why can’t we get to the action already?]

[Is it really so hard to keep the story focused? Why does every side character have to be fleshed out so much? Just write a main character-focused story! I don’t care that the butler of her manor has a whole life!]

[LOL, another dropped story?]

[Don’t read her books, she always drops her stories.]

[TRASH NOVEL WITH TRASH MC MADE BY TRASH AUTHOR, DON’T READ UNLESS YOU’RE TRASH YOURSELF.] 

Readers can be so cruel sometimes…

Realizing that whatever she wrote would end up with terrible reception and comments insulting her, she went on an indefinite hiatus.

She tried to rack her brain to create something people would like, completely forgetting what she wanted to write for herself. 

What do people like?

Why are my stories so bad all the time?

I just write what I want to write… Is that wrong?

I guess writing for people and for myself… don’t go hand in hand in the end.

But whenever I try, I just can’t stop thinking about each character… Maybe… 

She started reading every popular book she could find on those online web novel apps.

She went from novel to novel, most of the time only skimming the first few chapters.

Despite how popular these stories were, she couldn’t help but feel they lacked any “soul.”

The main characters felt so soulless and empty.

They were merely puppets for readers to project themselves onto. 

Is this what people want?

But I don’t like writing novels like this…

Writing is the only thing my untalented self can do.

If only I had a family…

If only I had a different life.

If only I wasn’t so useless.

If only I wasn’t so ugly.

If only I wasn’t so awkward.

If only I wasn’t so stupid.

If only I wasn’t so lazy.

If only…

IF ONLY… 

In the end, she could only find excuses for her shortcomings, blaming other things and never accepting that she needed to change in some way if she wanted to improve herself or her life.

But could anybody blame her? Haven’t we all felt this way at least once in our lives?

Right, dear readers?

Indeed.

Perhaps that’s just human nature. It’s so, so hard to accept our own faults and shortcomings sometimes.

It’s easier to blame it all on everything else—on the world, on luck!

After all, isn’t it just luck that decides whether you’re born rich or poor, in a good country or not?

These thoughts come naturally to us.

Yes…

… 

And this girl, this little author, would always read novels and criticize them, sometimes acting just as cruelly as the readers who hated her books. 

Ugh, this damned MC is always crying like a baby! Can’t he grow a pair?!

Why is that girl being so hypocritical all the time? I hate this!

Can’t the MC just give no fucks about these guys and go somewhere else? This story is so slow!

Author! Stop it with the cliffhangers! I hate this! 

She was quite a hypocrite, wasn’t she?

And yet, as she tried reading through countless books, she gave up, landing on the book that held first place in the rankings.

The bestseller for five consecutive years since its publication.

A story that had recently ended.

It was generic, and she hated it.

But as she continued reading, she couldn’t help but feel immersed in the story more and more.

Yes, it might have had a generic start, but there was something strangely unique about it.

Perhaps some sort of “soul,” as she called it.

This soul drove the plot forward more than she imagined.

Maybe it was the narration, how the characters were fleshed out, or how conflicted the main character and his sister were.

Perhaps it was the grand world-building, the addictive LitRPG progression, the abilities the main character could use and play with, or the many elements of mythology—something she always loved in stories.

Whatever the case, this little author was enthralled. Like a small goblin in her cave, she didn’t leave her house until she finished reading the book. 

WHAT?!

But she was furious upon reaching the end… Oh my, she was wrathful!

Why does it end like this?! A bad ending?!

All the buildup and battles, and this is how it ends?!

Why the fuck is Jack just sitting on his throne and doing nothing?!

You have the power of a Multiverse-Level Being! Why don’t you bring everyone back?!

After killing every single Void Ruler, what can’t you do?

And yet… It ended like this?!

Why?! 

She noticed many comments agreeing with her.

It was as if the author had trolled his entire reader base at the very end.

The hero worked hard to protect his world, his sister, his people.

But ultimately, he lost everything except himself.

And once he became the supreme being, he did nothing.

Nothing!

Well, it’s realistic, right?

When you become so strong, when you can see it all and have it all, everything becomes meaningless.

He realized the truth of everything and simply gave up.

But this girl—she was really furious.

I can’t comprehend what drove her to write over a hundred comments, each one different, constantly complaining about everything.

Hah… Life sucks ass. 

And as she walked out of her house for the first time in two weeks to buy some ramen with whatever pennies she had left, she looked at her phone one last time, realizing the author had replied to her angry comments. 

[Thank you for reading! I am very sorry that the book’s ending was so unsatisfactory, but I believe this is the best ending to evoke the most emotions and reactions from readers. Satisfaction is nice, but it sometimes makes people see things as less important or special. After all, what people remember most are bad experiences, not the good ones!] 

HAH?!

She was furious!

However, she realized the comment continued for a few more paragraphs. 

[However, after assessing the many negative reactions, I’ve concluded that maybe this world could have a second chance. After all, we authors live for our readers. Your reactions, your emotions, the experiences you gain through reading our books feed us with an undeniable, addictive feeling of superiority over our other, normal peers.]

[As I read your comments and visited your profile, I was delighted to realize you were an author as well! And so, dear colleague, I’ve decided to propose a collaborative work with you. Would you like to work with me to create a much better story together?] 

W-What is this fucking idiot talking about? Is he trolling me? It has to be a fucking joke! 

BAAAM!

And before the little author realized she was walking in the middle of the street while reading on her phone, a truck ran over her.

Oh my, what a pity. She should’ve paid more attention to the world in front of her instead of obsessing over fantasy worlds that don’t exist!

Or…

Do they? 

I have a question for all of you, my dear readers.

As [].

What is fiction, and what is reality?

If a fictional story is read by thousands, or perhaps millions, and if this world is imagined in the minds of all these people, is this world that everyone experienced still not real to you?

And could it be that every person who creates a story is a god who has woven a world into reality?

Or maybe… I’m talking nonsense!

Well, who knows— 

Knock, knock!

Creaak…

Oh my, is that the door? I was just writing here! 

“Excuse me, sir []. Something has happened…” 

A funny-looking jester enters my room made of twisting light and colors.

Ah, right, I had it remodeled recently. Isn’t it a nice psychedelic look? 

“Jester! Don’t you see I’m busy writing for my readers here?” 

“I understand, sir []. But… He has intervened, much ahead of time.” 

“Um, yes, I know that.” 

“And you allowed him to do that? Even when he…?” 

“Of course I did. It was for the best of the story.” 

“But wouldn’t this…?” 

“Ah! You worry too much, my dear Jester. I’m quite excited myself! A whole new world of possibilities! Ahh! I’m itching to write some more now!” 

“Please listen to me! His intervention and the death of the Universal Computer are only going to warp the universe even more! Those from the {Abandoned Stories} might even begin to appear! A-Are you sure this is the right thing to do?!” 

“Listen to me well, my Jester. You’re here to make me laugh, not to make me worry! I’m doing a collaboration with another author, you see! She’s also weaving the story alongside me. It’s a dual work! Less stress, and we can have more fun together!” 

“But… She will have to pay the price for receiving the help of a Void Ruler beyond this Story…” 

“…She was well aware of that.” 

“And even then, you let him help her?” 

“Yes… I thought it would make for an amazing scene.” 

“But sir…! She’s not being protected by the plot at all. If she dies, then what will we do?” 

“Hmm, that is indeed quite the question… It’s a gamble, isn’t it? But a fun one!” 

“Why won’t you simply help her?” 

“Well, that would be no fun. My readers, after all, want excitement and stakes!” 

“…If she employs his help for longer, every time… she will… until her entire being…” 

“Ah, come on now. She’s also an author. She won’t be so stupid as to do such a thing, right?” 

“…” 

My dear Jester looked so sad. Oh my, that’s not how jesters are! 

“You may go now, unless you want to shake the Walls of Causality even further.” 

“…Very well, I will proceed with my plan. Even if you don’t want to help her… I will.” 

“Do as you please.” 

As the door closed, I sighed in relief.

“Oh well, that’s that… Now, Anna—or should I say, Cecilia? Shall we continue working together? I wonder what crazy thing you’ll do now to ‘improve’ the story… Hmm, I’m looking forward to it! Perhaps we can aim for a grand finale like nothing before! Ooh, the readers are at the edge of their seats!” 

Oh, how about we add this and that? Yes, that ought to make things more entertaining.

My dear readers, expect the unexpected!

From now on, things are only getting crazier, hahaha!

My most passionate reader ever and an author just like me, Anna, please!

Look forward to it! 

…

Oh and please leave your comments! You don’t know how much it makes me happy to know what my readers think about my story.

Who knows? If you got a good idea I could even add it to spice things up!

We are on this together after all, everyone.

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