The Art of Gold Digging

They say self-improvement started with admitting you were the problem; however, Amy had long ago declared herself 'the root of all evil', and it hadn't helped at all. If anything, the self-awareness only sharpened her shit-talking skills.

Maybe she hadn't admitted it enough. Maybe she'd admitted it too much. Either way, instead of improving, she'd mastered the art of getting worse, or so she believed.

"...and this chapter, dear followers, once again proves why Quest for Avalon is THE most egregiously overhyped piece of garbage ever to sully the manga industry,"

Amy paused to reread the sentence she'd just typed, then smirked. That was good. Too good. A line like that deserved to be weaponized in group chats, screenshotted, and maybe even quoted.

Indeed, this was some good ass ragebait, and it deserved a reward.

With a smile, she reached for the cold energy drink on the edge of her desk, cracking it open with a hiss. One long, victorious chug later, she tossed the empty can onto the growing pile of trash in the corner—half-full snack bags, crumpled receipts, and a lonely sock with an image of a cute cat.

As she observed the pile of trash, she winced. Her room was disgusting. When had it gotten this bad? If her mother finds out… The thought made her stomach twist— She should clean it up. She had to clean it up. Maybe after one more paragraph…

Back at the keyboard, she shook off the shame, forcing her fingers onto the keys.

"Because honestly, was I supposed to feel something when Lain sacrificed herself? To be honest, I even laughed when she blew up. For some reason, I found it kind of funny at that time."

Amy leaned back, staring at the ceiling, still grinning at how absurdly funny it had been. And yeah, maybe that was a little sad, that she found it funny. Or a lot sad. But whatever—she was a mess, the room was a mess, and clearly, her stupid ass was incapable of sane emotional responses. At least she could write about it, right? Sort of.

With a small sigh, she hunched forward again, then continued typing.

"Anyway, those are my thoughts on chapter 225: a predictable mess of mainly nonsense desperately pretending to be a real story. One star. And I'm being generous. That star is purely because reading this garbage helped me procrastinate on my responsibilities for another hour."

Her cursor hovered over the 'Post' button. She could already hear the familiar chorus: her 300k+ followers hyping her up in the comments, rabid stans absolutely losing it, and the inevitable essay responses from basement-dwelling 40-year-olds. She couldn't wait.

She exhaled dramatically, and without further ado, she hit the button.

Click.

Within nanoseconds, her phone went absolutely feral. Notifications flooded in. Comments. Shares. Outrage.

Ahh~ nothing drives engagement like outrage.

She'd sacrificed sleep to catch the chapter drop, but the metrics made it worth it. Posting her nuclear takes immediately after release was algorithm gold.

"Another good day of work, you ugly bitch."

With the job finally done, she began feeling the familiar brain fog of exhaustion creeping in. After a small yawn, she turned her monitor off then deactivated the notifications from her phone.

Amy jumped into bed and set her alarm for noon. By morning, the comments would be straight-up warfare, and she needed to be charged up for the absolute bloodbath. Tomorrow promised more drama, more views, and more bag. At this rate, by the time she turned 18, she would finally be able to move away from this place, something which her mother would definitely celebrate.

As sleep claimed her, Amy's face relaxed; she felt accomplished...

Sure, her life had been shitshow recently, and dropping out of school had surprisingly only made it worse. Yet still, these small moments of just hating made her feel better. If only for a short time, she was allowed to feel fine...

The serotonin didn't last.

Somewhere in the liminal silence of her apartment, her computer screen glitched back to life.

A faint ping echoed through the room. Her phone, on Do Not Disturb mode but still awake, buzzed once. Then again. Then again, rapid and insistent.

Amy groaned, rolling over, eyes barely functioning as she glared at the cursed glowing rectangle on her nightstand.

A notification. No. Hundreds. Thousands. Her sleep-deprived brain couldn't process the numbers.

Her inbox was in shambles, but not with the usual hate comments.

One message sat pinned at the top, repeating on an infinite loop:

[Funny, huh?]

"What the…?" Amy sat up, suddenly more awake than a few seconds ago. A shiver crawled down her spine.

The cursor on her screen began moving on its own, lines of text appearing, typed by invisible hands.

[Let's see if you'll still laugh when it's your turn.]

A high-pitched ringing filled her ears. Her vision blurred. Amy held her head as her chest tightened and breathing became difficult.

Then, darkness swallowed her completely.

-————-　■　-————-

Amy's vision slowly returned. She blinked, trying to focus her eyes. Instead of her ceiling, she saw...clouds? No, not clouds, something more solid. Were those planets…?

"Huh…" she said as she slowly sat upright.

She wasn't in her bed. She wasn't even in her apartment.

Amy found herself on an endless marble floor that stretched beyond comprehension. Columns taller than skyscrapers surrounded her, holding up a dome that captured sunlight and cranked it to eleven. The air smelled like the moment before lightning strikes.

She pinched herself hard, flinching at the pain. Not dreaming, then. A hallucination? Drugs? What the hell was going on…?

"Ah, you're awake," said a voice that somehow came from everything, everywhere, all at once. "Good."

Amy scrambled up, spinning in frantic circles, trying to locate the source. "Hello? Is—is this some kind of prank? Am I on camer—

She jumped as out of nowhere, a figure materialized before her. It was a woman—if such a basic term could describe the being that stood there. With features that would make beauty filters obsolete, she towered at least seven feet tall, skin pale as snow, eyes seeming to contain entire galaxies, and hair flowing like liquid gold.

The teenage girl stumbled backward, landing hard. "What the—" She scrubbed at her eyes violently. "...maybe this really is a dream…"

"This is no dream, Amy Stake. No hallucination either."

Amy's mouth opened and closed several times before words came out. "Do I...know you? How do you know my legal name?"

"I know many things about you, Amy." The being's voice resonated through Amy's bones. "Your morning skincare routine. Your core memory from age seven. The real reason you dropped out of art school. The…photos…you hide under your bed."

"!?" Amy felt her face flush. "Who ARE you, you creep?"

The celestial smiled, seemingly amused by her response. "I have many names across many worlds. But in the realm you know as 'Quest for Avalon,' I am simply called the Goddess."

Amy tilted her head, her mind lagging behind, trying to process the woman's words. Then, a strangled laugh escaped her lips. "Heh… okay, wow. So… this is your idea of a prank? Huh? Pretty funny… I'll give you that. Seriously. But, uh… I was kind of busy… sleeping, actually. You really picked a bad time, don't you know?" Her laughter slowly died down, replaced by the creeping edge of suspicion. She clenched her fists, squaring her shoulders. "But listen, lady, or goddess, or whatever. You know this is illegal, right?"

The being raised an eyebrow, then tilted her head to the side. "Illegal?"

Amy nodded, her voice serious now, all traces of sleep-addled humor gone. "Yes. Totally illegal. You can't just pull someone out of their room in the middle of the night and… and whatever this is! I mean, I have—

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"You speak too much." The Goddess flicked her wrist, and Amy's mouth literally disappeared. She pawed at the smooth skin where her lips should be, pure panic as she tried to scream but produced absolutely nothing, not a single sound.

What the…

Amy's heart started beating faster and faster as she continued searching for her mouth.

"Your review," the Goddess said, ignoring the girl's growing panic. "'A hackneyed mess created by a writer who clearly never experienced genuine human emotion.' 'Characters flatter than the pages they're printed on.' 'A waste of ink that should be studied in creative writing classes as cautionary tales.'"

A blue screen floating in the air depicted the post, accompanied by the Goddess's words. It multiplied like a digital virus, splitting into dozens of floating displays showing years of Amy's internet history: blog posts, comments, videos, and more.

Amy panic increased as reality continued to glitch. Maybe she'd had a stroke? Brain blue-screen? Was she in a coma, dreaming this fever dream? Yet everything felt too real; her senses and thoughts were crystal clear...

The Goddess waved her hand, and the screens vanished. "You have been very cruel about this particular story for years now. Tell me, Amy Stake, have you ever created anything of your own?"

Amy's mouth returned as suddenly as it had disappeared. "I—I—... This can't be real. Not possible." She pressed her palms against her eyes. "I'm hallucinating. Have to be."

"This is very real," the Goddess said, ice in her tone. "As real as your words. As real as the damage they cause."

"What…?"

"A critic. That's what you like to call yourself, is it not?" The Goddess said, with scary, cold-looking eyes. "You're no critic. You destroy without understanding, mock what others pour their souls into, and do it with such...glee."

Amy frowned and scratched her head. After some moments of silence, she finally found the courage to speak despite the surreal situation. "Look, I don't have the slightest idea of what's happening here, but aren't you acting unreasonably…? If a story is popular, it should be able to withstand criticism. I'm not going to lie and say something is good when it's objectively bad."

"Objectively?" The Goddess's eyebrow rose, and with it, Amy felt herself lifting off the ground. "You speak of objectivity while using phrases like 'absolute garbage' and 'should be burned rather than—'"

The Goddess stopped mid-sentence. Her perfect features froze. For a moment, her eyes went completely blank, staring at nothing.

"...rather than read," she finished mechanically, her voice suddenly flat and hollow.

Amy's stomach dropped. "Um... are you okay?"

The Goddess blinked once. Twice. Then her head tilted. "Line... what was my line?" she muttered.

"Your... line?" Amy whispered.

The Goddess's frown deepened, and she lifted a hand. In a swirl of starlight, an amber book with a yellow triangle appeared on her hand.

She opened, then rapidly passed through its pages. "Sorry about that. Sometimes," she said slowly, her voice calm now, "I forget things. Not the important things… just… details. I have lived far too long. Give me a moment." While she continued searching, she began humming a strange melody.

Amy watched in confusion, her mouth agape as the Goddess's eyes drifted across the pages.

Seconds passed. The hum filled the space. Then, suddenly, the Goddess jumped, her entire posture brimming with delight. "Ah!" she exclaimed. The book disappeared shortly after she clapped her hands once. Her voice rang with joy. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, it was deliberate, gracious, almost a little bit forceful.

"Let us continue," she said. Then, with a gesture of her hands, she made Amy float in the air.

Amy dangled in the air, feet kicking uselessly. "OMG, I'm flying!?"

The Goddess exhaled sharply and yanked Amy closer until their faces were just inches apart.

"Focus, human," she hissed.

Amy gulped, suddenly very aware that this was too high an effort to be just a prank, and too real to be a hallucination or a dream. Whatever was happening, she should at least take it seriously.

"M'am! I give up, ok!" she yelped, throwing her hands up. "Look, I have no fucking idea of what is going on, but if this is about me being toxic, then like…can we just forget it? Like, come on—it's literally just words on the internet. Nobody actually cares that much! And if they do, they're probably just unwashed basement dwellers who haven't touched grass since the prehistoric age."

Something about those words (in particular, the "basement dwellers") made the Goddess' expression twist in anger.

Amy suddenly had a bad premonition.

"Puny creature…!" the Goddess hissed, getting even closer to Amy's face, their noses now touching. "Apologize now."

"Uhhh..." Amy frowned. She knew she should just say sorry and move on, but something inside her refused to back down. Maybe it was her stubborn pride, or maybe it was the absolute craziness of the situation.

Apologize? To someone claiming to be the fictional Goddess from a mediocre manga, one she didn't even like?

"...no."

The Goddess blinked. "No?"

"No…" Amy doubled down, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Apologize for what exactly…? Spitting facts? We both know it's true..."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then a slow, deeply unhinged smile spread across the Goddess's face.

Yikes. Amy could feel herself trembling. Alright, this was getting out of hand; she needed to de-escalate the tension.

"Look, oh venerable miss Goddess… I'm sorry but... I honestly don't think I did anything wrong. Freedom of speech, you know? Everyone's entitled to their opinion, and mine just happens to be that Quest for Avalon is ass." Amy tried to sound confident, but her voice wavered.

The Goddess's smile widened even more, revealing teeth that gleamed like polished pearls. "Freedom? How interesting of you to invoke such a concept while floating helplessly in my domain."

She flicked her wrist, and Amy dropped to the marble floor with a painful thud.

"Ow! That hurt…" Before Amy could scramble up, golden threads burst from the floor, wrapping around her wrists and ankles.

"Huhh…what is this?" Amy squirmed against the restraints, confusion plastered across her face.

"Since you believe so firmly in your right to critique," the Goddess said, her voice now eerily calm, "I've decided to grant you a unique privilege, Amy Stake."

With a wave of her hand, the vast marble hall transformed. The columns twisted and stretched, the ceiling dissolved into a night sky crowded with unfamiliar constellations, and the floor beneath Amy became transparent, revealing countless worlds spinning below.

"Um... Miss Goddess?" Amy's voice was small now, her earlier bravado evaporating, and a tint of fear appeared.

The Goddess gestured downward, and the scene shifted again. Below Amy, one of the countless worlds zoomed into focus—a medieval city with streets lined with towering spires and glowing runes that looked straight out of a fantasy RPG loading screen.

Amy's breath caught in her throat. She knew this place, she had seen so much fan art and so many illustrations that it had been ingrained in her memory.

It was Eldoria's capital city, where the academy stood.

A setting ripped directly from Quest for Avalon.

Her stomach lurched."W-Wait, hold up. No way. This isn't happening. What are you—?"

The Goddess knelt down, gripped Amy's chin between two fingers, and whispered in her ear. "You who delights in mocking its every flaw shall now live it."

Amy's blood ran cold. A word that had been at the back of her mind for a while suddenly took over her brain.

Isekai.

No way, this was too ridiculous. There was no way this was happening! And of all things, it had to be Quest for Avalon, the story of bad endings and tragic tales. Hell no!

The golden threads tightened, lifting her up. The wind howled around her as the world beneath her feet drew closer.

"Wait, wait, WAIT!" Amy screamed, thrashing against the golden threads. "This isn't fair! I'm just a reviewer! I didn't—"

"Critics like you should walk through the worlds they judge so harshly. Maybe then you will understand the impact of their words."

"But—but people DIE in this story! In the worst ways! Remember Ash? The one who got eaten alive by rats?" Amy's voice cracked with panic. "You're not seriously sending me there!"

"Oh, so you do care about the characters' fates. Interesting how vividly you recall them now, for someone who claimed their deaths had zero emotional impact."

"That's not—I mean—"

The goddess shook her head and let go of Amy's chin. "Such a pitiful, insolent creature… That mouth of yours would have apologized a million times by now If only you knew just how much you are actually going to suffer… You are lucky I am not without mercy."

Amy looked up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "You're... not sending me there?"

The Goddess laughed. "Oh, I most certainly am."

Amy's face fell.

"But," the Goddess continued, raising one elegant finger, "I will give you something no other character in Quest for Avalon has ever had."

With a graceful motion, the Goddess pressed her palm against Amy's forehead. A warm sensation flooded through Amy's body, like someone had injected hot honey directly into her veins.

"Hope," the Goddess whispered. "Power that grows stronger with every person who comes to stan you."

"...I don't understand."

"It's pretty simple, actually," the Goddess said, circling Amy like a predator. "The nature of your special ability and its strength in addition to your very survival in this world will depend on how much the readers like you and what they believe you to be."

"Readers?" Amy stammered. "What readers?"

"Quest for Avalon is a fictional story in your world, so it obviously possesses an audience. The moment you cross into it, you'll become part of the narrative. If the readers believe you possess a certain power, you'll possess that power; the more they like you, the stronger your power will become." The Goddess's eyes sparkled with amusement. "And the more they hate you... Well, I'm sure you can imagine."

Amy swallowed hard. "So I have to... make people like me…? "

"Precisely."

Amy furrowed her brows. "Why is this happening to me? This isn't fair…"

"Perhaps not. But it sure is poetic, isn't it?" the Goddess said with a serene smile. "You, who have built a career on being cruel and caustic, must now learn to be loved. The hardest of the challenges that I could ever give a creature of such malevolence as you."

Rude…

"One more thing, Amy Stake. You know as well as anyone that Quest for Avalon is a tragedy. Every path leads to sorrow, every hero falls, every love story ends in tears."

"Yeah, that's why it's garbage," Amy muttered, then quickly clamped her mouth shut when the Goddess glared at her.

"Your challenge is this: change the ending. Find a way to turn tragedy into triumph." The Goddess leaned close. "Do that, and I will return you to your world."

"Seriously?" Amy asked, voice shaking.

"Yes."

"Seriously? You'll actually return me?"

"That's what I said."

"For real? On god?"

"Yes! I said yes, human. Stop asking the same question over and over again!"

The golden threads tightened around Amy's limbs as the world beneath her grew larger.

"Wait! I'm not ready! I don't even know the whole story! I just skimmed most chapters for the highlights!" Amy thrashed uselessly. "I only wrote those reviews for the engagement! Please!"

The Goddess tilted her head. "Perhaps that makes this lesson all the more necessary—" The goddess, smiled then her eyes began glowing gold. "Learn and grow Amy, that's the only way you will be able to rest, once you learnt have learnt to deal with your sins. Either by dying, suicide, or victory."

With a flick of her wrist, the threads snapped, and Amy plummeted toward the world below. The wind rushed past her ears as she fell, her screams disappearing into the void between realities. The last thing she saw was the Goddess's face—completely unbothered yet somehow... expectant.

Then darkness swallowed her whole.