My Measurement: The Villain Desires a Satisfying Payback

At first glance, I noticed the colour palette of the cover art was dark, making a clear contrast between it and the white title letters, as well as giving the impression of an adult genre and perhaps suggesting some darker theming.

On it, there was a stylistic illustration of what seemed to be a ruined, collapsed world―one perhaps corrupted and that had met its absolute end.

Across the entire bottom third of the illustration, a massive cast of faceless characters could be seen, with one predominant male figure in the foreground―presumably the protagonist and titular 'Hero' character.

Although, the massive cast made the bottom so crowded that it felt messy, perhaps indicating the work of an amateur.

I thought the bright and almost goofy-sounding title of the book held a sharp juxtaposition when placed atop the much darker illustration, perhaps by the design of the author to give a sense of unease or to pique reader curiosity.

As for the visual description, that's all there was.

Other than the odd title and the atmosphere the art seemed to emanate, there wasn't a whole lot of note.

To me, it just looked like any other fantasy-blend fiction novel that was written for an audience of adolescents.

I had originally thought I might've been able to gain something from giving the book a proper look and reading its title, but I must have been naively mistaken.

Not everything has a hidden meaning to it, after all

...At least, I thought as much.

Until I took a closer look at the group of characters illustrated and realised something.

Although their faces were concealed behind shadows, the rest of their features were visible.

Female characters with striking appearances such as unique hairstyles or unusual outfits.

Specifically, there were three characters with white hair on the cover of the book.

White hair, to me, was a very recognisable symbol.

Not long ago, it was something familiar...

"..."

I examined the white-haired characters intently.

One of them was tall and wore a suit of white armour, and the other two were children with matching outfits.

As if it had made the connection before even my head, I felt a piercing feeling in my heart.

It was simply too much to be a coincidence.

Avon Laura... And the twins.

But, why...

...Why were they here?

"..."

Without having to even give the command, my eyes flickered across the cover to the other characters.

As I did, I only began to notice more and more.

Characters wearing the familiar uniform of the Wardens.

Characters wearing the familiar uniform of Weinstell High School.

And the so-called 'Hero' at the front of all of them―It wasn't Yuu Shimura's, but I could've sworn I saw that same style of blond hair somewhere before.

Only one person came to mind.

"Azaki... Kiryuuin..."

"...Huh?"

It was all so obvious now that I looked at it again, that I wondered just how I missed it the first time.

And as I examined the front cover of this book, I also realised.

The 'what'.

The 'how'.

The 'why'.

If I had just linked the information right in front of my eyes with the knowledge I gained long ago, I would find the answer.

I should have known.

The answer that was staring me in plain sight, hiding just beneath my nose.

...That this world was written by the "Author".

Of course.

If the Author is the God of Earth, and this book is the story he wrote... It's obvious.

Everyone present on this cover.

People I know, were once close to, and some whom I even shared meals with daily.

People who existed as no more than fairy tale characters created at the fortunate whim of a higher being's imagination.

"You all..."

The existence of fate.

The fate of both myself and the world, which I had previously concluded as being no greater than some white blood cell equivalent of the universe.

The many timelines, possible futures, and worlds other than my own.

"...To me..."

I was holding on until now because I could convince myself that at least I was real.

Because I knew the truth.

Because, as the Theory of World Stages posited, all worlds were equal.

But now, I don't see how it can be true.

You are telling me that my world, my everything, existing somehow only within this very book, is perfectly equal to the world in which its creator lives?

The world of the author that wrote the book is equal to the world within the book itself?

The world in which the book was conceived, published, purchased and consumed?

The world from which this woman originated?

If that's how it is...

"Do you think this is a joke?"

"C-Cipher...?"

...Unless.

The theory isn't wrong―Supposing this is true, it can only mean one thing.

The Author.

The Highest Existence.

They must be one and the same.

In that case, it would mean the theory isn't necessarily wrong, yet this world and the realm of the Author are also not equal.

However, what about this woman?

Araceli Arévalo's 'true self'.

I know now that she was not a regressor, but in fact a reader of the book; that is why she knew so much about me and everything going on, and it's the same reason why Truth never worked on her.

But then, if she was a reader of the book―a novel telling the story of my world―then how did she end up here as a separate person?

Is it possible for a 'person of the highest existence realm' to descend to a lower world?

Could it be that, in order to do so, one must possess the body of a being in that lower world, just like what this woman has done to Araceli?

It would make sense, at least at first glance.

"..."

But, something still didn't feel quite right about it... And I knew for a fact that I couldn't claim to have figured everything out.

So, I took a moment to consider it all.

This world and everything that exists within it.

Measurements.

Supernatural Abilities.

My past.

The pasts of everyone around me―or those who were once around me.

My choices, actions, and consequences.

Their choices, actions, and consequences.

My fate.

Their fates.

Everything I have ever experienced.

Everything any of them have ever experienced.

All of it should be included within this singular book. Or if not, contained within the Author's settings notes.

People I interact and have interacted with―"People", who are no more than side or background characters in the wider world contained within a novel.

Mine and others' stories and experiences―'Events' and 'scenes' which are no more than filler, or otherwise irrelevant backstory devised for drama and the development of said characters.

The true existence of what I knew as, or at least thought of as, 'fate', which is in fact no more than the mere words printed on a story book's pages.

That led me to a thought.

It was not a thought I had only been introduced to just now, but a thought I had happened upon and considered in the not-so-distant past.

That everything―as it happened in the past, as it will happen in the future, and as it is happening right now―is a predetermined, fixed result, or at the very least controlled by the Highest Existence.

This, one might think, is no different from fate.

But is it really?

If everything I have experienced, everything I am experiencing, and everything I will experience is predetermined, then is that the same as fate?

Or... Is it simply not so?

Last time I had this thought, I was obsessive over the will of the Highest Existence.

I was, speaking frankly, frightened at the thought that nothing I did truly meant anything―because it wasn't 'me', but rather the Highest Existence who was controlling me to act or think that way to begin with.

That fear remains now.

The only difference is that this time, I have certainty that everything else I have experienced was the same.

What with almost every single "character" on the novel's front cover being someone I am, or was once, acquainted with, I couldn't be anything but certain.

So, with that all said...

These thoughts I am thinking at this very moment.

―Are they really mine?

Or are they mere words on a page, just like everything else?

The answer to that question.

For the first time ever in my life, I don't think it's something I can bear to know.

Physically, emotionally, and whatever else you wish to describe it with.

Nevertheless, whether my thoughts are truly mine or the mere delusions of some deific Author.

All I can say is that, if I were to find out, unquestionably, I would do 'it'.

Just like I claimed I would do when I found out the truth last time.

As if it was inevitable.

But perhaps, that inevitability is what "fate" meant all along.

Looking at the cover of the novel once more, I found it comical.

A ruined world that was very evidently 'my' Earth.

All the people I am familiar with, but not me.

With just those two details, I felt like I could easily figure out my fate.

And it certainly didn't look bright.

After all, just because I was not included in the cast of illustrated characters, it did not mean I could not be seen on the cover art at all.

In fact, if I opened my eyes for just a second, I could see myself right there in the middle of the page.

As if I was being presented as the star of the show.

[The Hero Wants to Save the World-Ending Villain!?]

Not the hero.

Not the protagonist.

But still, the main focus.

With that, my thoughts rapidly cooled.

When I found out the truth, I said I would do it.

I then planned to do it again after clearing the Magic Tower and having my Theory of World Stages updated for me.

Because I thought that would be the only way to make it to the realm of the Highest Existence.

The only way to break free of this lowly, chained reality.

The reality of a character who only exists within the confines of a fictional story.

Before all this, I said I wouldn't do it.

There was no reason to, after all.

But now, every time, the world always seems to pile on me more and more reasons.

As if begging.

As if pleading.

Even when I tried only to avoid it, claiming I would never do such a thing.

Past all that, things still ended up the way they are.

It has become, in other words, my inevitable fate.

And now, I'm beginning to find myself more and more tired.

I don't want to deal with any sort of 'fate' nonsense any more.

If I can do something to get it over with, I will.

Even if it means doing as fate has foretold countless times until this moment.

There shall be no regret.

Because there is nothing left for me in this fictional world anyway.

That's why.

Author.

Readers.

A 'World-Ending Villain', is that what you want?

I don't know how the ending of that novel goes, but I don't care.

This will be my ending.

For if you want to repay the debt of shoving the mindless drivel of fate down my throat over and over again, you will do me this one favour.

Let me end this world.

Let me write the final word on the page.

You have written my entire life up until and including this moment. Surely you can relinquish that much?

Do that for me, and I'll stick with you forever.

I promise.