So what if I am just a mob in a novel : I will get what I want

The Beginning of an Unreal Reality

When I first woke up in this world, surrounded by the towering trees of an unfamiliar forest, I was stunned. Everything about it felt surreal—the crisp air, the rustling leaves, the earthy smell that hit my senses. This wasn't a dream. It wasn't some game simulation with limited parameters. It was real.

Or at least, it seemed real.

That initial fight with the monstrous wolves left bruises on my body and shattered my belief that this could be a simulation. The pain, the fear, the adrenaline—it all screamed reality. Yet, deep inside, I still tried to convince myself that this world wasn't real. Because if it was, what did that mean for the world I left behind?

What about my reality? My family?

The System Speaks: Meeting Bali

My first encounter with the system was as jarring as being plunged into icy water.

Out of nowhere, that voice—cold, metallic, and devoid of any warmth—echoed in my mind.

[Host detected.]

I froze. My breath hitched, my pulse thundering in my ears.

[Initiating abandoned novel corrector system.]

The words were sharp, ringing with a precision that felt like shards of glass scraping against metal. They cut through my thoughts, drowning out everything else. I couldn't scream, couldn't run. The world around me seemed to warp, bending into itself as though reality itself was folding away.

And then came the mission.

[Main Mission]

[The characters have gone haywire. Your mission is to correct the characters' paths one by one and put them back on the right track so the story can continue. If you fail, the world will collapse with you along with it. And if you succeed, you can turn back time—save your parents.]

It hit me like a tidal wave. Save my parents? Turn back time?

Could I really do that?

I wanted to believe it was a cruel joke. Yet the robotic voice wasn't finished.

[To turn back time: 1 second = 100 million points, 1 minute = 6 billion points, 1 hour = 360 billion points.]

I nearly choked at the absurdity of the cost. A single second required an impossible number of points. How would I ever achieve that?

But before I could even question it, the voice gave a final, cold declaration.

[Mission Countdown: Undefined]

[Good luck, Host.]

And then, silence.

Unfinished Knowledge: The Novel and Bali's Role

At the same moment, I felt something new—a presence in my mind. It was… Bali. That's what I decided to call it. Its original name, a string of garbled code-like syllables, was too confusing to pronounce, let alone remember.

Bali wasn't like any system from the stories or games I knew. It wasn't just an AI giving commands or monitoring progress. It had quirks—an almost sentient personality hidden beneath its cold, robotic exterior.

And it gave me a treasure: the unfinished novel A Regressor Bound by Time, Bound by Destiny.

I wasn't a loyal reader of the story, which made this both a blessing and a curse. I remembered bits and pieces, enough to recognize the male lead's identity and a few key events. But the world-building? The intricate details of relationships, factions, and politics? They were all a blur.

This wasn't a game where I could restart if I failed. This was reality—or something terrifyingly close to it—and Bali was my only ally.

The System's Hidden Power

Bali, integrated seamlessly into the world's global system, operated in ways no one could detect.

Status Windows: Bali hid my status window from others. While everyone in this world had access to a public status display, mine remained invisible, shrouded in secrecy. Story Database: The incomplete novel was stored in Bali's archives, accessible to me alone. It became my guide to the events unfolding around me—if I could decipher it correctly. Global System Enhancements: Bali unlocked features far beyond the standard system capabilities of this world, though many of its functions remained locked.

No one could hear or see Bali except me. To the rest of the world, I was just another player in their cruel reality.

The Name of the Novel

The novel's title still haunted me: A Regressor Bound by Time, Bound by Destiny.

It wasn't just a catchy name. It was the essence of this world, encapsulating the life of its protagonist—a regressor who carried the burden of 100 lifetimes. But this wasn't just his story anymore.

It was mine.

And unlike the male lead, I didn't have the advantage of countless lives or foresight beyond Bali's fragmented guidance.

The more I thought about it, the more the weight of my mission pressed down on me. To save this world, to fix its characters, to put everything back on the "right path"… it felt impossible.

But if I wanted to turn back time, if I wanted to see my parents again, I had no choice.

The Conflict Within

Every step forward solidified the reality of this world, but it also deepened my fear. If this world was real, what did that mean for the life I left behind?

Was I dead in my world? Would my parents even want me back?

The forest, the fights, the people—they all felt real. The pain in my body was real. And yet, I couldn't shake the doubt clawing at my mind.

What if this mission was just another cruel twist of fate? A game I couldn't win?

But then I'd remember Bali's words:

[If you succeed, you can turn back time—save your parents.]

And that was enough to keep me moving.

The Journey Ahead

This world was no longer just a setting in a novel. It was a living, breathing reality with its own rules, dangers, and people—people who had strayed from their intended paths.

I wasn't just an outsider anymore. I was the abandoned novel's corrector, the one tasked with untangling the chaos and saving the world.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

I wasn't strong enough. Not yet.

But I would be.Strength in Uncertainty

I wasn't strong enough.

That thought gnawed at me, unrelenting and cold. I wasn't like Erin, who faced danger with calculated precision. I wasn't like Mo Tang, who carried her quiet strength with grace. I wasn't even like the characters I had read about, the ones who defied impossible odds with unshakable resolve.

I was just… me. Matta Rishitha.

But I couldn't afford to let that stop me.

Facing Reality, One Step at a Time

The forest loomed around me, its towering trees casting shadows that seemed to whisper doubts into my ears. Every sound—crackling leaves, distant rustles, the wind weaving through the branches—kept me on edge.

My mind kept drifting back to Bali's mission: fixing characters, correcting their paths. But what did that even mean? These people weren't static; they weren't written on a page anymore. They had their own minds, emotions, and choices.

Would they even listen to me?

Could I change anything at all?

No one else knows the story like you do, Bali had said. But the truth was, I didn't know enough. I wasn't a loyal reader of A Regressor Bound by Time, Bound by Destiny. I had skimmed through it, picking up highlights and major plot points, but the finer details of its world-building had always bored me.

Now, I regretted every skipped chapter.

The Burden of Knowledge

Still, what little I did know weighed heavily on me.

I knew the regressor's struggles—his 100 lifetimes of pain and failure, his desperation to break free of the loop. I knew the betrayal that awaited him in this world, the betrayals that had shaped him into the hardened, mistrustful man he was.

And I knew the fate of this world if the story went off course.

This wasn't just about saving individual characters. It was about saving an entire world from collapse.

And somewhere in that tangled mess of a story was me—a nameless mob, an outsider thrust into a narrative I barely understood.

Bali's Reassurance

As if sensing my spiraling thoughts, Bali's voice chimed softly in my mind.

[Host, your doubts are valid, but you have an advantage others do not.]

"What advantage?" I muttered bitterly. "I'm weak. I don't even know the full story. How is that an advantage?"

[You are not bound by this world's rules,] Bali replied. [You are a variable. An anomaly. That makes you unpredictable.]

"Unpredictable doesn't mean capable," I shot back.

[It means you are not confined to the paths this world expects. Others are trapped by the roles the story has assigned to them, but you are free to choose your path. You are not a character; you are the corrector.]

I frowned, letting Bali's words sink in. It was hard to argue with its logic, but logic didn't make me feel any stronger.

The Weight of Choice

Freedom, Bali said. But with freedom came responsibility—the responsibility to act, to make decisions, to shape the fate of a world I barely understood.

Could I really handle that?

My hands trembled as I looked down at the dagger I'd claimed in the cave. Its blade was sleek and sharp, glowing faintly with the blessing from the treasure chest. It felt foreign in my grip, like it belonged to someone else.

But it was mine now.

And if I wanted to survive, if I wanted to save my parents, I had to learn how to use it.

The Unfolding Journey

The mission was clear: correct the characters' paths and restore the story.

The system's guidance was blunt but logical. To succeed, I needed to:

Identify the Key Characters: The novel's protagonists, antagonists, and supporting cast—each of them played a role in the story's progression. Their actions had to align with the narrative Bali provided. Understand Their Motivations: These weren't just fictional constructs anymore. They were real people with desires, fears, and dreams. I needed to uncover what drove them. Influence Their Choices: This was the hardest part. I wasn't a natural leader or manipulator. Convincing people to change their paths? That felt impossible.

And yet, I couldn't afford to fail.

A Glimpse of Determination

As I walked through the forest, the weight of Bali's words echoed in my mind: [You are not bound by this world's rules.]

Maybe that was my strength. Maybe being an outsider, a variable, was what gave me the edge I needed.

I tightened my grip on the dagger, the cool metal grounding me.

"I'll figure it out," I whispered to myself. "One step at a time."

The path ahead was uncertain, shrouded in shadows and doubt. But for the first time, I felt a flicker of something I hadn't felt in a long time: hope.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep me moving forward.