The warning symbol remained above Panel City.

STORY HUNTERS DETECTED.

People disappeared into shops.

Doors slammed.

Windows closed.

Even the giant green creature dropped its newspaper and ran.

Arin stared at the empty street.

“What exactly are Story Hunters?”

Mira pulled the hood of her blue coat over her head.

“People who hunt characters.”

Arin frowned.

“Why?”

“Because they believe fictional worlds shouldn’t exist.”

“That sounds extreme.”

“They’re not interested in destroying only this city.”

Mira looked at him.

“They want to destroy every story ever created.”

Arin swallowed.

“And why are they after me?”

“Because you’re not supposed to be here.”

A loud metallic sound echoed from the end of the street.

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

Something was walking toward them.

Mira grabbed Arin’s arm.

“We need to move.”

“Who is that?”

“The first Hunter.”

A figure appeared through the mist.

He was tall.

Very tall.

He wore a long black coat.

His face was covered by a bright red mask.

Two narrow white eyes glowed through it.

A silver sword hung at his side.

But the strangest thing was his shadow.

It didn’t match his body.

The shadow had enormous wings.

Arin whispered:

“That’s creepy.”

Mira nodded.

“He’s called the Red Mask.”

The Hunter stopped.

He looked directly at Arin.

Then he spoke.

“Found you.”

Mira pushed Arin behind her.

“Run.”

Arin stared.

“You mean you fight him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t.”

The Red Mask raised one hand.

The street exploded.

Mira grabbed Arin and jumped.

A black blade sliced through the place where they had been standing.

They landed behind a building.

Arin looked back.

A huge crack ran through the street.

“He did that with one move.”

Mira nodded.

“He’s one of the strongest Hunters.”

“What do we do?”

“Run faster.”

They sprinted through narrow streets.

Behind them came the sound of footsteps.

Slow.

Heavy.

Unstoppable.

Arin looked back.

The Red Mask wasn’t running.

He was simply walking.

But every step brought him closer.

“He’s cheating!”

Mira glanced at him.

“He’s a Hunter.”

“That doesn’t answer my complaint.”

They turned a corner.

Mira kicked open a wooden door.

They entered an old comic shop.

She slammed it shut.

“Hide.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

Arin jumped behind a shelf.

Mira disappeared behind another.

The footsteps stopped outside.

Silence.

Arin held his breath.

The door opened.

The Red Mask entered.

He looked around.

His eyes moved across the shelves.

Arin noticed something strange.

The comics on the shelves were moving.

One cover showed a warrior.

The warrior turned its head.

Another showed a monster.

The monster blinked.

Another comic showed a little boy.

The boy raised his hand.

Arin stared.

Mira whispered:

“Don’t look at them.”

“Why?”

“They’ll remember you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll find out.”

The Red Mask walked between the shelves.

He stopped beside Arin’s hiding place.

Arin’s heart pounded.

The Hunter slowly reached toward the shelf.

Then—

A book fell from above.

THUD!

The Red Mask turned.

Mira threw another book.

Then another.

“Run!”

Arin jumped up.

They rushed through the back of the shop.

The Red Mask followed.

Mira opened a trapdoor.

“Jump!”

Arin looked down.

“There is no floor!”

“Exactly!”

He jumped.

---

They fell through darkness.

Arin screamed.

Mira didn’t.

“You could warn me!”

“You asked too many questions.”

“I was falling!”

“You’re still falling.”

“That doesn’t help!”

They suddenly landed on a giant cushion.

Arin bounced twice.

Then rolled onto the floor.

Mira landed gracefully beside him.

Arin stared.

“How did you do that?”

“Practice.”

“Can I practice?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“You’ll die.”

“Fair.”

Arin looked around.

They were inside a huge underground library.

Thousands of books floated through the air.

Some were tiny.

Some were enormous.

Some had wings.

Some had legs.

Others whispered as they passed.

Arin slowly stood.

“What is this?”

“The Archive.”

Mira pointed toward the endless shelves.

“Every story ever created has a record here.”

Arin stared.

“Every story?”

“Yes.”

“Even unfinished ones?”

“Especially unfinished ones.”

He remembered Kai.

“Then there might be a record of me.”

Mira looked at him.

“There is.”

“Where?”

She pointed upward.

A single book floated above them.

Its cover was white.

No title.

Arin reached for it.

The moment his fingers touched it, the entire library went silent.

Every floating book stopped moving.

Mira’s eyes widened.

“Arin.”

“What?”

“Put it down.”

He looked at the cover.

A name slowly appeared.

ARIN VALE

He opened it.

The first page contained a drawing of his childhood home.

The second showed his grandmother.

The third showed him at school.

The fourth showed his bedroom.

Arin turned another page.

A drawing showed him at seven years old.

Standing in front of the black door.

Kai stood beside him.

But someone else was there.

A man.

Arin’s grandfather.

He was holding a red pen.

Arin stared.

“What is he doing?”

Mira stepped closer.

“He’s rewriting the story.”

“What story?”

“Yours.”

Arin turned the page.

The drawing changed.

His grandfather stood beside the little Arin.

He had written something across the page.

REMOVE THE ORIGINAL.

Arin’s stomach tightened.

“What does that mean?”

Mira didn’t answer.

He turned another page.

The little Arin disappeared.

In his place stood another boy.

Same face.

Same clothes.

But the boy had completely black eyes.

Arin stepped backward.

“Who is that?”

Mira whispered:

“The copy.”

Arin looked at her.

“You said I’m not the real Arin.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But someone did.”

Mira’s expression hardened.

“The Story World did.”

Arin looked back at the book.

The copy was standing beside Kai.

Kai had his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Arin felt angry.

“Kai knew.”

“Yes.”

“He knew I was a copy?”

Mira shook her head.

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

Before she could answer, the library shook.

A deep bell rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Mira looked upward.

“They found us.”

Arin closed the book.

“Again?”

The Red Mask stepped out from between the shelves.

His red mask gleamed beneath the strange blue light.

Mira stepped forward.

“You followed us.”

The Hunter looked at her.

“I followed him.”

He pointed toward Arin.

Arin looked behind himself.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The Red Mask removed his sword.

“Because you are the last unfinished character.”

Arin stared.

“I am not a character.”

The Hunter tilted his head.

“Then why can’t your story be found?”

Arin had no answer.

The Red Mask attacked.

Mira drew a glowing blade from beneath her coat.

Their swords collided.

BOOM!

The impact sent books flying.

Arin ducked.

Mira moved faster than Arin could see.

She attacked.

The Hunter blocked.

She attacked again.

He blocked again.

Then he kicked her across the library.

Mira crashed into a bookshelf.

Arin shouted:

“Mira!”

She stood.

Blood ran from her lip.

“I’ll be fine.”

The Red Mask raised his sword.

“You always say that.”

Mira froze.

“You remember me?”

The Hunter lowered his weapon.

“I remember all of you.”

Mira stared.

“Who are you?”

The Red Mask touched his mask.

Then slowly removed it.

Arin expected a monster.

Instead, he saw a young man.

Silver hair.

Pale skin.

A scar across his left cheek.

And familiar eyes.

Arin’s eyes widened.

“Kai?”

Mira whispered:

“No.”

The Hunter smiled.

“My name is Kael.”

Arin looked between him and the drawing of Kai in his memory.

They were almost identical.

“What is happening?”

Kael looked at Arin.

“Kai was the character you created.”

He pointed at himself.

“I am what was left behind when you stopped writing him.”

Arin couldn’t speak.

Kael continued.

“You abandoned the story.”

“I was seven!”

“And I waited.”

“Where?”

“Inside the unfinished pages.”

Kael’s voice became colder.

“Ten years.”

Mira raised her sword.

“Don’t listen to him.”

Kael laughed.

“You still protect him.”

“Because he doesn’t remember.”

“Exactly.”

Kael looked at Arin.

“Your grandfather erased your memories.”

“Why?”

“Because he discovered the truth.”

“What truth?”

Kael’s expression became serious.

“You were never supposed to create me.”

Arin frowned.

“Why?”

“Because I already existed.”

Silence.

Arin felt a chill.

“What?”

Kael stepped closer.

“Your grandfather didn’t create the first version of me.”

He pointed toward the white book.

“You found me.”

Arin stared at the pages.

A hidden image appeared.

A little Arin stood in a dark room.

In front of him was Kai.

But Kai wasn’t drawn on paper.

He was real.

A living boy.

Arin whispered:

“I knew you.”

Kael nodded.

“You were my first friend.”

Arin’s memories began returning.

A playground.

A red scarf.

A boy with silver hair.

Two children running through a strange forest.

A black door.

His grandfather screaming.

Then—

a terrible sound.

Arin grabbed his head.

“Stop!”

Mira ran toward him.

“Arin!”

He fell to his knees.

Memories flooded back.

He remembered entering the Story World.

He remembered Kai.

He remembered the white-haired girl.

And he remembered something else.

Something terrifying.

He had been the one who locked Kai behind the black door.

Arin looked at Kael.

“I did this.”

Kael’s expression softened.

“You finally remember.”

“I locked you away.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Kael looked toward the ceiling.

“Because you were afraid of what I would become.”

Arin shook his head.

“I would never do that.”

“You did.”

Mira stepped forward.

“Kael, enough.”

Kael ignored her.

He looked at Arin.

“Your grandfather gave you a choice.”

“What choice?”

“Erase me…”

He raised his sword.

“…or let me enter your world.”

Arin remembered.

His grandfather’s voice.

If he crosses the final panel, your world will change forever.

Arin looked at Kael.

“You wanted to come to my world.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Kael smiled.

“Because I wanted to be real.”

The library shook again.

A crack appeared in the ceiling.

Black ink began falling.

Mira looked upward.

“The Author is coming.”

Kael’s face changed.

For the first time, he looked afraid.

“You have to leave.”

Arin frowned.

“You’re a Hunter.”

“I know.”

“You’re hunting me.”

“I was.”

“What changed?”

Kael looked at the white book.

“The Author changed the rules.”

The black ink spread across the ceiling.

A gigantic eye appeared above them.

The same eye Arin had seen before.

Mira grabbed Arin.

“We have seconds.”

Kael stepped aside.

“Go.”

Arin looked at him.

“Why are you helping me?”

Kael smiled sadly.

“Because I remembered something too.”

“What?”

“You were my friend before you became my enemy.”

Arin stared at him.

Then the ceiling exploded.

A giant black hand reached down.

Mira pulled Arin toward a glowing doorway.

“Jump!”

They jumped.

Kael remained behind.

Arin shouted:

“KAEL!”

Kael looked up at the enormous hand.

Then at Arin.

“Find the Last Panel!”

“What is it?”

Kael smiled.

“The place where your real story ends.”

The doorway closed.

Arin and Mira disappeared.

The black hand grabbed Kael.

And the entire Archive vanished.

---

Arin landed on a rooftop.

Mira fell beside him.

The city below was burning with strange blue flames.

Arin stood.

“Where are we?”

Mira looked around.

“Chapter City.”

“What is that?”

“The place where stories are rewritten.”

Arin looked toward the horizon.

A gigantic tower rose above the city.

At its top was a glowing red door.

Mira whispered:

“The Last Panel.”

Arin stared.

“We found it.”

“No.”

Mira looked at him.

“It found us.”

Suddenly every screen in the city turned on.

A single message appeared.

ARIN VALE

THE AUTHOR HAS REQUESTED YOUR RETURN.

Then another line appeared.

FAILURE TO RETURN WILL RESULT IN THE DELETION OF KAIRO CITY.

Arin’s face went pale.

“They’re threatening my world.”

Mira nodded.

“And there is something else.”

“What?”

She pointed toward the screen.

A final message appeared.

YOUR GRANDFATHER IS WAITING FOR YOU.

Arin stared at the words.

His grandfather had disappeared twenty years ago.

Yet somehow—

he was still alive.

And he wanted Arin to come to the Last Panel.

Mira reached for his hand.

“Whatever happens next…”

Arin looked at her.

“Yes?”

“Don’t trust anyone.”

A voice suddenly whispered from behind them.

“Especially me.”

Arin turned.

Kai stood there.

But his silver hair was stained with black ink.

His eyes were completely red.

And he was smiling.