Lord Of The Lost

The Witch, with her immense magic, could still force it to function, but it took a heavy toll on her power something she could not afford while leading an assault on Blizzard Fortress.

So, she cast Alice into the Lost Maze instead.

When Alice arrived in the past, she was alone, disoriented, and vulnerable.

She was immediately captured by the Scarlet Troupe and, in a cruel twist, was forced into servitude as a scriptwriter.

William finally understood why Black Swan had said they arrived "late."

By the time he and his group entered the town, the Scarlet Theater had already been performing for four days.

Alice had been trapped here first, locked away and coerced into writing tragic plays.

The reason?

She had a natural talent for the "Writer" path, a power that playwrights used to shape reality through stories.

But Alice hated tragedy.

The darkest story she could tolerate was the Little Mermaid dissolving into seafoam.

She outright refused to write anything darker.

The playwright didn't accept her defiance.

And so, Alice had spent days locked up, tormented, and forced to write over and over again.

At the end of her story, Alice suddenly smiled.

She lifted the sides of her skirt, gracefully crossed her legs, and performed a perfectly elegant curtsy, one that could only be learned in the highest of noble courts.

"My name is Alice Elizabeth. I am the ninth heir to the British royal family. You may address me as the esteemed Ninth Princess, or simply… Ah Jiu."

Then, she added, almost playfully, "My player ID is 008. My talent is [Fantasy]."

Alice tilted her head slightly, her emerald eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"And you, my mysterious savior? What should I call you?"

William, utterly unfazed, responded in a calm voice.

"The breeze blows over the hills."

Alice blinked in confusion.

"Wait, what? Are you giving me a riddle? You're seriously answering me with an old Eastern proverb? What's next? Some deep philosophical nonsense?"

She pouted, crossed her arms, and grumbled.

"Look, I know the Kyushu region has all these ancient sayings floating around—like how people keep talking about this 'Wei Junjie' who apparently created 'Xixiwu' or something. But let's be real, I have no idea what that even means!"

She huffed.

"So just tell me your name like a normal person!"

William glanced at her expressionlessly.

Then, with the same unwavering tone, he said—

"Then just call me Big Brother."

"...Eh?"

Alice stared blankly.

William leaned back, arms crossed.

"That's what they all call me."

---

Alice's Power: Fantasy Made Real

[Player ID: Alice]

Serial Number: 008

[Talent - Fantasy]

Effect: If you believe it, it exists. If you don't believe it, it doesn't.

Your imagination becomes a source of reality-altering magic.

A heart full of belief… is the foundation of true magic.

William stared at her.

A power that makes things real just by believing in them?

That… was not a weak ability.

Not at all.

Alice, meanwhile, smiled like a mischievous cat.

"You see, Big Brother," she said, "as long as I believe I'll survive, I won't die!"

William sighed heavily.

"That's not how it works."

Alice pouted again.

"Well, it's worked so far!"

William rubbed his temples.

This girl…

She was going to be so much trouble.

Alice's love for fairy tales isn't just a passing fancy, it's etched into her very soul.

As a child, she stumbled upon Alice in Wonderland and was utterly enchanted. The whimsical world, the curious adventures, everything about it made her heart race with joy. She was so fascinated that she immediately ordered her servants to fetch every other book written by the same author.

That night, a mountain of books landed before her. But instead of more fantastical tales, she received a dozen dry, dense mathematics books. As it turned out, the brilliant mind behind her beloved fairy tale was actually a mathematician.

Alice, however, was not a fan of numbers.

The moment she flipped through the complex equations and indecipherable formulas, her pupils practically had a seismic meltdown. For the first time, the young princess felt the world's sheer malice pressing down on her.

"If I ever become the eldest princess," she vowed, "I'll abolish these cold, heartless subjects and replace them with simple, beautiful fairy tales!"

Alas, imagination is a wonderful thing, but reality is merciless.

Despite the shifting tides of industrialization, the British royal family still held significant power. However, Alice's chances of ever ascending the throne were slim. And if she had been sent to school, she would undoubtedly be at the bottom of the class, locked in an eternal battle for last place.

Luckily, her noble status spared her from the torment of academics. That, at least, was a blessing.

Alice wasn't naive, just deeply devoted to her dream world. She constantly envisioned breathtaking fairy tale landscapes, nurturing a belief so strong it eventually became her greatest talent: [Fantasy].

What Alice imagined, to some degree, became real.

Because she loved fairy tales.

A simple yet profound truth: fairy tales could shine into reality.

This belief made her an exceptional writer, something even the playwright had to admit. But the two couldn't be more different in their artistic visions.

The playwright despised Alice's fairy tales, growing increasingly critical of her work.

Unfortunately for Alice, this playwright wasn't just a grumpy critic, he was also incredibly powerful.

As a Level 10 player, Alice had decent resistance, but there was a catch: all of her magic was sealed by the playwright. His weapon? An enchanted anchor pen that could rewrite reality itself.

With a stroke of his pen, he could dictate cruel truths:

Alice cannot use magic.

Alice cannot sleep.

He couldn't control her thoughts, but he could manipulate her actions through extraordinary effects.

Worse still, if Alice ever entered an Advent State, he could forcibly eject her, logging her out of the world. But here was the real problem: upon logging out, her descended body would transform back into her real body.

And to log back in, she needed to be in a sleep-like state.

This bizarre restriction effectively trapped her outside the real world.

Alice hated this.

Before she reached the maze, she had fallen into the hands of the Witch of the Wilderness. Now that she was here, she had fallen into the grasp of the troupe.

Had she come all this way just to be a glorified prisoner?

Not only had she been Sleeping Beauty in the real world for over half a month, but now her actual body had disappeared as well.

She couldn't help but wonder, what kind of chaos would this cause outside?

Would the British royal family declare World War III over her disappearance?

The thought was both terrifying and, strangely, a little exciting.

While William spoke with Alice, a sudden explosion of cheers and applause erupted outside.

The audience's enthusiasm lingered, their applause echoing for an unusually long time.

The fourth act of the play was coming to a close.

The dwarves were disbanding, the troupe members were wrapping up.

Soon, those troublemakers would be backstage.

Alice's eyes gleamed.

"The situation is urgent, we need to kill the playwright, now!"

She had spent enough time in this cursed troupe. At the very least, she had figured out their basic abilities.

Now, it was time to turn the tables.

This version makes the story more dynamic and immersive while keeping the humor and intensity intact. Let me know if you'd like any further tweaks!

The Most Dangerous Enemy: The Playwright

The biggest threat lurking in the shadows was the Playwright.

The "Writer" path was an advanced one, possessing four powerful abilities:

[Observation] – A heightened sense of perception, allowing the writer to see through disguises and uncover hidden truths.

[Role] – The deeper their understanding of a subject, the more control they could exert over it, turning people and things into characters in their narrative.

[Writing] – The power to create coincidences in fate—events that seemed natural, yet were orchestrated by their will.

[Script] – Characters in their story would, to some extent, act according to their script.

Both Calcifer and Black Swan had warned William:

Only divine paths were truly complete.

All other paths, whether high, medium, or low, were fragments, inherently incomplete.

A god could easily carve out a new higher path from their own divine authority. The God of Dreams and Prophecies had once been powerful enough to do just that.

The existence of the "Writer" path was proof of His authority. If He had wished, He could have spread this power across the world.

But He was gone now.

With His death, the "Writer" path had vanished as well, leaving behind only incomplete remnants.

Even if someone inherited the concept of being a "Writer," it was far from its true form.

This wasn't an isolated case, history was littered with lost advanced paths, swallowed by time itself.

That was why the Human Kingdom, which had successfully preserved and mastered three advanced paths, had become the dominant power in the world.

William turned to Alice and said calmly,

"We? No. It's me and the others—not you."

He knew exactly why Alice was so anxious.

This dwarven town had only reappeared because of the Scarlet Troupe.

Once the final act of their play, Dragon Slaying, concluded, the troupe would leave Long Lake Town.

And when they did, this entire town might vanish again.

What would happen to the outsiders trapped here then?

That was not a question that could wait.

Alice, in her current state, was powerless against the troupe. She had no choice but to place all her hopes on William.

The only way forward was to kill the Playwright and seize the [Anchoring Pen].

For William, the pen was also his goal. But there was a problem, Alice had observed that the Playwright didn't actually have the quill on him.

There was no guarantee that even if they killed him, they would gain the power to rewrite fate.

And worse, once the Playwright fell, the entire troupe would descend into chaos.

They weren't dealing with just one enemy.

Twelve extraordinary individuals would come after them, all at once.

Alice herself was merely an informant, not a fighter.