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

Rishitha sat silently at the edge of their makeshift camp, her back against the jagged stone wall. The others were resting, their breaths slow and heavy in the dim glow of the cavern crystals. The flickering of the torchlight cast long shadows over the group, but none loomed larger than the shadow in Rishitha's heart.

She stared down at her trembling hands, her system's interface glowing faintly before her eyes:

[Mission: Ensure the story progresses according to the original narrative.]

[Current Objective: Lead the group to the central chamber.]

[Warning: Deviations detected. Immediate correction advised.]

Her chest tightened. The system's constant, cold voice never let her forget her purpose here: she wasn't just fighting for survival—she was fighting to save this world, to piece together the fragmented threads of an abandoned story. But more than that, she was fighting for a chance to go back.

Back to her own world. Back to her parents.

The system had promised her that if she succeeded in correcting the chaos of this world, it would grant her a way to turn back time. Just finish the story. Just make everything right.

But the weight of her secret was suffocating. These people—Mo Tang, Ragith, Erin—they weren't just pawns or obstacles in a narrative. They felt real, lived real, breathed real.

And yet… they're not, Rishitha reminded herself bitterly. They're characters. Pieces of a broken novel.

She clenched her fists. The thought churned her stomach. How could she explain it to them? How could she tell them that their world, their lives, were just pages in a book? That they only existed because someone, somewhere, had once written them into being?

I can't.

The system hadn't been kind to her. Every mission it gave her was laced with impossible choices and cold, ruthless logic.

Save Mo Tang by leading her into a deadly cave. Force someone to endure suffering so the story could progress. Correct characters' actions even when it meant pushing them into harm's way.

Rishitha had done it all. She'd made the hard calls, taken the steps no one else would. But it didn't feel like victory. It felt like betrayal.

She looked at Mo Tang, sleeping soundly with Ragith's protective arm draped over her shoulder. The siblings had been through so much already, and yet, here they were, trusting her despite everything.

Erin sat further away, his sword resting against his knee as he cleaned the blade with careful precision. He didn't trust easily—Rishitha could see that—but he had started to trust her. That knowledge only added to the pit of guilt in her stomach.

They think I'm one of them, she thought bitterly. They think I'm trying to survive like they are. But I'm not. I'm just following the system's orders. I'm just trying to finish this story.

Her mind raced with memories of her parents—their laughter, their warmth, their love. The system's promise echoed in her ears:

[Complete the story. Correct the chaos. Earn the right to rewrite time.]

It was the only thing keeping her going. The only thing she had left.

"Rishitha," Erin's voice cut through the quiet, startling her out of her thoughts.

She turned to see him watching her with those sharp, calculating eyes. He didn't say anything else, but his gaze was enough. He could see the weight she was carrying, even if he didn't understand it.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, forcing a weak smile.

Erin didn't look convinced, but he let it go. "We should move soon. The central chamber isn't far, but we can't stay here for long."

Rishitha nodded, pushing herself to her feet. The system's interface blinked in her vision again:

[Mission Progress: 78%.]

[Objective: Reach the central chamber within the next two hours.]

She turned to the others. "Get ready. We need to move."

Ragith scowled but didn't argue. Mo Tang rubbed her eyes, still groggy from sleep. Erin was already on his feet, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

As they gathered their things, Rishitha felt the weight of the system's demands pressing down on her again. She had to lead them forward, had to push them toward their roles in the story.

Erin was destined to become the hero of this tale. Mo Tang and Ragith would play their parts, too—whether they wanted to or not.

But for now, all Rishitha could do was guide them through the next step. The central chamber awaited, and with it, the first major turning point of the story.

As they walked, Rishitha couldn't help but notice how the others spoke. The way they argued, joked, and shared their thoughts—it was exactly as the novel had described.

Ragith's protective nature. Mo Tang's determination to prove herself. Erin's quiet strength and unwavering resolve.

It was uncanny. And it made Rishitha's guilt even harder to bear.

To them, this is their world, she thought. Their lives. Their struggles. But to me… it's just a story.

She tightened her grip on the strap of her bag, forcing herself to focus. She couldn't let her feelings get in the way. If she wanted to save her parents, she had to keep moving forward.

No matter what it cost her.

No matter who got hurt along the way.

As the others rested, the soft crackle of the campfire the only sound in the quiet cavern, Rishitha sat apart from them, staring blankly into the flames. Her expression betrayed nothing, but inside, her thoughts churned like a violent storm.

They think I'm deep in thought, she mused. But I'm not like them. I'm not someone who grew up knowing how to kill, how to fight, how to survive in a world like this.

Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms. I come from a peaceful society where violence is rare, where people aren't supposed to die in dungeons or fight demons. But I know what it's like to live in fear. I know what it's like to feel powerless.

Her mind spiraled back to memories she had tried so hard to bury. The mocking voices of bullies who tormented her at school. The cutting words of her father, his hands too quick to strike. The betrayal of her brothers who had once turned their backs on her but later tried to protect her when they realized the depth of her pain.

And then there was her mother—gentle and kind, but trapped in her own despair.

Mother protected me as best she could. She took the brunt of Father's anger, his... cruelty. My brothers—eventually—they did too. They all endured for me.

Her chest tightened, and a tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, not wanting the others to see.

I've always been lucky, she admitted to herself. Even in that hell, there were people who tried to shield me. But here…

She glanced at the others. Mo Tang, sleeping soundly under Ragith's watchful eye. Erin, quietly sharpening his blade, his expression unreadable.

Here, it's different. There's no one to protect me. I'm supposed to protect them. But how

Her gaze flickered briefly to the faint interface of her system, glowing softly in the corner of her vision.

[Mission Progress: 78%.]

[Objective: Ensure the story continues as written. Failure: Collapse of the world. Your death.]

This is a regression novel, she thought bitterly. A fucking mess of a story where Erin is supposed to be the hero. But he's just a child now—ten years old. He hasn't even awakened his memories of his past regressions yet.

She knew what was coming. When Erin turned eighteen, he would awaken as the regressor, his memories of countless failed timelines flooding back to him. And then it would begin again—the endless cycle of hope and despair.

Every time Erin changed something, a new enemy would emerge. Every time he thought he'd won, the world would throw something worse at him.

Why? she wondered. Why did the author make it like this?

Her thoughts darkened further. Because this psychopath of an author dumped every trope imaginable into this story. Game panels, gods, old players from other planets. Dungeons, towers, demons, devils, disasters. It's like they threw everything into a blender and forgot to hit 'stop.'

She clenched her teeth. And now it's my job to continue this madness. To see it through to the end the author abandoned.

Her chest ached with the weight of it all. She had to continue this broken, chaotic story. She had to guide Erin, Mo Tang, and the others toward the ending the author had never written.

Why?

Because the system had promised her a reward.

[Complete the story. Save your family. Rewrite time.]

Her mind flashed with images of her parents—her mother's tear-streaked face, her brothers standing in defiance of their father.

I can't fail them, she thought desperately. If I do, they'll stay trapped in that life forever. Or worse, they'll…

She shook her head, unable to finish the thought.

But the question lingered in her mind: Can I really do this?

I'm not a fighter. I'm not a hero. I'm nothing. Just a girl with a system that won't stop pushing me forward.

Her gaze shifted to the others again. They felt so real—their voices, their fears, their dreams. She couldn't bring herself to see them as mere characters, no matter how hard she tried.

They're supposed to be fictional, she thought. But everything about them feels alive. And that's what makes this even harder.

She let out a shaky breath, her hands relaxing at her sides.

I don't have a choice, she told herself. If I want to save my family, I have to keep going. I have to see this through, no matter how hard it gets.

Her system's interface blinked again, reminding her of the looming deadline for their current mission.

She wiped her face, forcing a small, determined smile.

One step at a time, she thought. I'll save my family. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find a way to save them too.

For now, she would keep her secret. She would keep pretending.

Because in this world, where reality and fiction blurred together, Rishitha had no room for doubt.

The fire crackled softly, its light casting flickering shadows on the cavern walls. Rishitha's eyes remained fixed on the flames, but her mind was miles away, trapped in a whirlwind of guilt, fear, and an overwhelming sense of inadequacy.

They think I'm thinking of a strategy, she mused, her lips twitching in the faintest of bitter smiles. But all I'm really doing is falling apart inside.

Her thoughts twisted back to her system—the cold, unfeeling voice that dictated her every move, her every action.

[Complete the story. Save your family. Rewrite time.]

The words were simple, almost clinical, but the weight behind them felt suffocating. Her heart ached with longing as memories of her family flickered through her mind.

Her mother—her gentle, broken mother—always shielding her from the worst of her father's wrath. The sound of her whispered reassurances, the soft lullabies she sang when Rishitha cried herself to sleep.

Her brothers—each flawed in their own way. The backstabber who had betrayed her trust once but later stood between her and harm. The trickster who always wore a grin, even when the situation was dire, masking his pain. The silent one, whose quiet strength and subtle gestures of care had spoken louder than words.

And her father.

Her hands clenched into fists as her body trembled.

I hate him, she admitted to herself, a surge of anger boiling in her chest. I hate what he did to us. To me. To Mother.

But even as the anger rose, it was quickly smothered by guilt. And yet, I still don't want to save him. Why? Why can't I just let him go? maybe ... no I will kill him with my own hands ?

Her gaze shifted to the faint golden glow of her system interface, floating just out of reach. Its presence was a constant reminder of the impossible task she'd been given.

Why me? she wondered for the hundredth time. Why not someone stronger? Someone smarter? Someone who could actually do this?

She thought about the missions—the cold, ruthless conditions the system imposed. How it had forced her to put Mo Tang in danger, to manipulate events so that the story could progress.

The guilt clawed at her, sharp and relentless.

Mo Tang nearly died because of me. Ragith hates me for it, and he's not wrong. I deserve it.

Her chest tightened as she thought of Erin, the so-called hero of this mess. He's supposed to save the world, but he's just a child. A child who doesn't even know the burden waiting for him.

And yet, despite everything, despite her guilt and her doubts, a small, selfish hope lingered in her heart.

If I keep going… If I see this through… I can save them.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she stared at the others. Mo Tang, with her fierce determination, so unaware of how much she was being used. Ragith, whose hatred for Rishitha was palpable, yet whose love for his sister was undeniable. And Erin, sharpening his blade with a focus far beyond his years.

They're real, she thought. No matter what the system says, no matter what I know about this being a story, they feel real. Their pain, their laughter, their fears—it's all real.

And that made her task even harder.

How am I supposed to keep manipulating them? How am I supposed to put them in danger, knowing what it might cost them?

The firelight reflected in her eyes as she let out a shaky breath.

But if I don't… this world will collapse. They'll die anyway. And my family…

Her thoughts turned to her mother again, her brothers, even her father.

They don't deserve to stay trapped in that nightmare. If there's even the slightest chance I can save them, I have to try. Even if it destroys me in the process.

For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what failure might look like. The world crumbling around her, the people she had grown to care for fading into nothingness. The system's cold voice, announcing her failure with ruthless precision.

Her hands trembled, and she clenched them tighter, digging her nails into her palms.

I can't fail, she told herself, the words ringing hollow even in her own mind. I have to be stronger. I have to keep going.

But the doubts refused to quiet.

What if I'm not enough?

The thought lingered, heavy and suffocating.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to sit up straighter. The fire crackled softly, a small comfort in the oppressive silence of the cave.

One step at a time, she reminded herself. I don't have to save the world today. I just have to keep going.

Her gaze flickered to the others again, her expression softening despite herself.

They don't know the truth. They don't know how much depends on them. Maybe that's for the best.

She forced a small smile, though her heart felt like it was breaking.

I'll carry this burden alone if I have to. They don't need to know the truth about this world. About me. About what I've done.

As the firelight danced in her eyes, a single tear slid down her cheek.

I'll keep going. For them. For my family. For myself.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself believe—just for a moment—that she might succeed.