LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 4: Manuscript
Year 502 of the Third Epoch.
Two years since the departure of Lilith.
A manuscript lay on his table.
A manuscript that could either be his downfall or his greatest triumph.
When Jonathan Ellis chose to walk the path of the White Tower, this wasn't how he had imagined his life would unfold. Instead of climbing the academic and hierarchical ladder within the esteemed Aruknia institutions to achieve exaltation and renown, he found himself here—managing one of the more marginal branches of the Printing House.
It wasn't the worst position to be in, to be fair. Leading a Printing House in the Kingdom of Elysian—where knowledge and information reigned supreme—was a role that people from other kingdoms would kill for. Yet, within Elysian itself, the reality was far less glamorous.
Jonathan chuckled wryly as he picked up the manuscript titled Shards of Unity by Gaia. It had been sitting on his desk for far too long, and the time to make a decision about its approval was fast approaching. The final meeting with Gaia loomed just around the corner.
His hesitation had nothing to do with the quality of the novel—far from it. Shards of Unity was destined to be a classic; of that, he had no doubt. Very few things could move him—a sequence-6 Polymath—to tears, let alone the words of a fictional novel. But this manuscript had done just that.
What troubled him was the story itself, and its characters. Beyonder species in literature were nothing new; authors had been writing about them for centuries. But the way Gaia told the story, the themes she unearthed, and the intricate meanings she wove into every layer of her narrative—that was where the difference lay. Above all, it was the main characters—beings not entirely human—who captivated him. Their existence was achingly beautiful yet profoundly, deeply controversial.
And then, there was the author.
Oh Lord… Jonathan often wondered if Gaia had been blessed by the Creator Himself. How else could one explain such brilliance? Though, the thought of her being a Beyonder herself did cross his mind, but there was only so much Beyonder powers could accomplish. In the end, it always came down to the Beyonder. As the Wisdom Angel of the Creator famously said, "There are no useless Beyonder powers, only useless Beyonders."
Gaia, however, was anything but useless. Her brilliance was unmistakably her own. Her art, so vividly alive, seemed to flow effortlessly from her hands, as though divinely inspired. And yet, the irony was almost unbearable. Gaia was a half-giant—a truth that cast a long shadow over her radiance in this indifferent world. Despite her unparalleled talent, she was trapped in an unrelenting struggle. No matter how extraordinary her work, she still faced an uphill battle to carve out her name and claim the recognition she so richly deserved.
But this manuscript could change everything for her—either launching her like a shooting star or dragging her into a bottomless abyss.
Though Gaia herself seemed unwavering in her determination to forge ahead, no matter the outcome. Why else would she keep sending the manuscript through the labyrinth of layers and branches of the Printing House, despite facing rejection after rejection? Even when Anthropocentric fanatics—though they childishly called themselves "purist"—attacked her after rumours of her work were conveniently leaked to the public, she remained undeterred.
Through it all, the lady with the gentle smile never faltered. Nothing could shake her resolve. Nothing.
Now the real question—the one that mattered most—was whether he was truly willing to join her on this perilous path.
Time ticked on, the steady thrumming of his fingers against the mahogany desk rising and falling in rhythm. Outside, the sun climbed higher, its light pouring in through the windows, glaring with its midday intensity. When the clock struck twelve, the silence in the room seemed heavier, almost expectant.
Right on cue, the door opened, and his assistant, Emma, stepped inside. Her posture was stiff with tension, her words clipped. "She's here."
As punctual as ever… Jonathan couldn't help but wonder, What does her day even look like? He allowed the thought to linger for a moment before snapping his focus back, gathering his scattered emotions through Cogitation. "Let her in," he instructed, his voice calm and measured.
Emma hesitated briefly before nodding and retreating. Jonathan didn't fault her for the pause; Gaia had that effect on people. Though it wasn't entirely due to her lineage—well, perhaps in Emma's case, it was to some extent. She's still got a lot to learn, he mused silently, shaking his head.
Then came the soft creak of the door, and Gaia entered.
The first thing anyone could notice about her was her height. Nearly seven feet tall, she loomed over everyone, her head just shy of brushing the ceiling. Yet her size never seemed to hinder her; she moved with a quiet, effortless grace, as though the world had no choice but to accommodate her presence.
And then there was her beauty—striking enough to challenge any preconception. Long, cascading black hair framed her face, falling perfectly into place no matter how she moved. Her eyes, a piercing shade of blue, seemed almost luminous, as though lit from within. They contrasted sharply with her soft, gentle features, creating a picture that felt both otherworldly and deeply human.
But it was her smile that stood out most of all.
Warm and inviting, it carried a kind of sincerity that could disarm even the most guarded of hearts. Jonathan found himself straightening unconsciously, his fingers stilling on the desk.
"Gaia," he greeted, his voice steady. And yet, the question in his mind loomed larger than ever.
"Jonathan," Gaia greeted, her smile as steady as ever.
"Please, take a seat," Jonathan gestured toward the large, empty chair in front of the table, consciously using Cogitation again. He made a mental note not to look at her smile more than necessary.
Gaia settled into the chair designed specifically for their meeting, adjusting herself with a quiet grace that made the oversized seat seem like it belonged to her all along.
"Would you like something to drink?" Jonathan asked, breaking the momentary silence.
"That would be lovely," Gaia replied, her tone polite but warm.
"Coffee or tea?" he inquired further.
"Tea, please." Gaia confirmed.
Jonathan pressed a button discreetly hidden beneath the desk. Moments later, Emma entered, balancing a cup of tea on a tray. She approached cautiously, her professional demeanour barely concealing the unease that lingered just beneath the surface. Gaia accepted the tea with a nod and a grateful smile, one so genuine it almost seemed to soothe Emma's nerves. But as soon as Gaia turned away, Emma slipped out of the room, her smile faltering into something closer to fear.
Gaia didn't appear to notice—or if she did, she didn't let it show. Instead, she took a careful sip of her tea, exhaling softly as though releasing the weight of a difficult day. "This is good tea," she murmured, her voice carrying a hint of relief.
Jonathan chose not to press, preferring instead to use the opportunity observe her. For someone like him—a Polymath who prided himself on deducing the pathways of Beyonders, often with more precision than even other Polymaths—figuring out Gaia should have been straightforward. At least, that was what he had thought initially. The reality, however, was far more frustrating.
Gaia wasn't concealing herself entirely; in fact, there were clues aplenty. The quiet, confident strength she exuded, famously wielded to quell fanatics who dared challenge her. The serene, almost ethereal smile she carried like a weapon, disarming even the sharpest of minds. The fluid perfection of her movements, as if the world itself bent slightly to accommodate her. All these traits hinted at something clearly, absolutely extraordinary. And yet, they didn't fit together—not neatly, not at all.
One thing, however, was clear: Gaia was at the same sequence as him.
Or maybe even higher.
Jonathan's thoughts darkened as his deductions painted a future that seemed anything but bright. He waited, letting the silence stretch, watching as Gaia took a few more sips of her tea before addressing the matter at hand. "I've read your manuscript," he said finally, placing a steady hand over the script resting on the table.
Gaia set her half-finished tea down, her glowing blue eyes locking onto his. "So, what do you think?" she asked. There was no desperation in her tone, no trace of the urgency one might expect from someone entirely shunned, now sitting before what could very well be her last chance—her last hope.
Jonathan carefully considered his response. For any other author in her position, he could have offered a half-hearted compliment, and they would have accepted it, nodding like obedient lambs. But not Gaia. She wasn't the type to simply endure.
"It's one of the best works I've ever read," he said, his voice steady and sincere.
"Thank you," Gaia replied, her tone filled with gratitude. Yet beneath it, there was something else—something deeper, a quiet undercurrent he couldn't quite put into words. He could feel it, though, unmistakable. There was a story behind her calm and confident exterior. There always was.
"But," Jonathan continued carefully, his tone deliberate. "I don't think I need to point this out, but the themes you've explored…" He let the words hang in the air, his gaze fixed on her, watching for even the slightest flicker of reaction.
Gaia's smile didn't falter. If anything, it seemed to solidify. "I've portrayed the truth," she said, leaning forward slightly, her arms resting on her legs.
"That, you certainly did," Jonathan admitted, a trace of admiration slipping into his voice. "Your main characters—Jenna, the human turned vampire, shunned by society; Floris, the naïve human trainee who becomes the knight of the Sun; Baldur, the giant too foolish to find his way back home; and last but not the least, Tiamat, the fallen Dragon Goddess, once all-powerful but now bound to walk the earth under the shadow of her former glory…" He leaned foward, crossing his arms over the manuscript. "I have to admit, I've never encountered such a bold variety before."
"Someone," Gaia met his gaze with unflinching firmness, "has to take the first step."
"But don't you think that step is… a bit controversial?" Jonathan ventured, carefully testing the waters. He wanted to understand her true thoughts. "Your choice of main characters, in and of itself, could become infamous. Especially the way you've portrayed Floris—it won't sit well with many of the faith."
"Controversial?" Gaia laughed, her voice clear and melodic. "Have you seen me? I'm controversial."
The laughter stopped as abruptly as it had begun, her ever-present smile vanishing in an instant. What remained was a solemnity so raw and resolute it seemed to fill the room. "If you intend to be the change, then controversy is the last thing you should fear."
Then, just as quickly, the smile returned—wider this time, almost radiant, like a flower blooming in fast motion. "But I don't think I needed to remind you of that, did I?"
Jonathan's thoughts strained against one another, his mind a taut thread threatening to snap. Still, he kept his voice steady through Cogitation. "No, you don't need to remind me. But, Gaia, this is just the beginning," He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locked on hers, searching, probing. "You've shown each of your characters for what they truly are, for what they've become—in a way that's too brutally honest." His voice dropped slightly, his tone tinged with both admiration and unease. "In this story, there are no villains or heroes—just a collection of broken, miserable people, fighting against fate."
"That is my story," Gaia said, her words carrying a depth that now Jonathan understood all too well. But what surprised him most was her smile, which seemed to grow even brighter. "That's what I wish to tell. The question now—the one for this meeting—is whether you're willing to have your name spoken alongside such a controversial story."
"Gaia," Jonathan began, his voice low and clipped. This was it—the final moment. "I'm your only hope."
"We both know that's not entirely true," Gaia chuckled knowingly. "But yes, Jonathan, your refusal would significantly hinder my efforts. So, what will it be? What is your choice?"
Jonathan was beginning to realise this entire exchange wasn't as one-sided as he had initially believed. This woman… he couldn't quite wrap his head around her existence. But one thing had become startlingly clear to him.
He wasn't willing to waste away the rest of his life in this office, clinging to distant hopes of collecting enough credits for a promotion to become a demigod.
And he certainly wasn't willing to waste the opportunity now standing before him.
"I approve," Jonathan declared with finality.
"Your manuscript—your novel—will be published under me."
"Lovely," Gaia said joyfully, extending her hand toward him. "I'm truly grateful."
"Let's save the gratitude," Jonathan said as he shook her hand, sealing the deal, "until we've survived to see the success."
"Oh," Gaia said lightly, retracting her hand. "Chin up, Jonathan. You won't regret your choice, I'm certain of it."
Jonathan silently prayed to the Creator—and the Wisdom Angel under Him—that she was right.
"And please send the first copy to me," Gaia continued as she stood up from her seat. "I'm planning to give it as a gift at the Zenith Exhibition."
"What?" Jonathan stood up from his seat as well. "You're participating in it?"
"Of course." Gaia's jovial smile returned. "You didn't think I'd miss such an extraordinary opportunity, did you?"
In hindsight, Jonathan supposed he should have expected it. The Zenith Exhibition was founded and conducted by the Aruknia institutions, operating under the direct supervision of the Wisdom Angel of the Creator. Held only once every fifty years, it was an unparalleled platform where the world's greatest minds could showcase their creativity, brilliance, and innovation.
Though the exhibition traditionally focused on new inventions and discoveries, the coming one had introduced a new category: art. This change had come at the personal request of the Angel of Fate of the Creator, who wished to participate as well.
For Gaia, it was indeed the most perfect opportunity.
"I think," Jonathan said, his words breaking free from somewhere deep within him for the first time since the meeting began, "you're going to be the death of me, Gaia."
Instead of taking offence, Gaia laughed—her voice clear, melodic, and entirely unapologetic. "Oh, Jonathan, death has no hold on us. From now on, it's all about life."
With those parting words echoing in the air, Gaia left his office. Jonathan watched her retreating figure until the door clicked shut behind her, his mind fixed on a single question.
Just who, in the name of the Lord, is Gaia?