The Imperators Throne: I Wrote This Hell

The glow of the monitor illuminated my cluttered one-room apartment, casting long shadows across the mess of takeout containers, empty coffee cups and ashtray full of cigarette buds.

The only sound was the steady hum of my laptop, its cooling fan whirring like a tired old engine.

My fingers hovered over the mouse as I refreshed the stats page again, the more I looked the more pissed off I became, but the numbers didn't lie.

Novel: Gaian Imperium The Last Gaian

Chapters Published: 230

Total Words: 232,000

Collections: 50

Views: 30,000

I grabbed my vape and Inhaled deeply as clicked over to my last novel, the one I wrote on a whim because at that time I was on a watching sci-fi movies killing spree which had the Intendent consequences of me pulling an all out scifi writing marathon until I hit the authors number one nemesis aka the writers block.

Novel: Terranum Imperium

Chapters Published: 103

Total Words: 110000

Collections: 300

Views: 300,000

Contracts Offered: 2

Seeing this my eyes twitched.

"What the actual F*ck?!"

The sheer frustration exploded out of me as I slammed my hands against the desk, rattling my cheap plastic keyboard connected to my laptop.

My spit sprayed across the laptops screen, leaving tiny flecks of moisture clinging to the screen.

"How?! HOW?!"

My voice cracked, raw with disbelief.

"I busted my ass writing Gaian Imperiums The Last Gaian plotted every arc, spent nights researching world-building, developed deep, complex characters and it's tanking! But Terranum Imperium I wrote on a whim, gets TWO CONTRACT OFFERS?!"

I groaned, burying my face in my hands before running them through my messy, unwashed hair.

"I must be cursed… I swear, the algorithm chan hates me."

I flopped back into my chair, the cheap plastic creaking under my weight.

The apartment felt suffocating, the walls closing in with the overwhelming sense of failure.

My bed was just a mattress on the floor, sheets crumpled into a mess of fabric from too many sleepless nights.

The only source of light, aside from my screen, was a dim lamp in the corner, flickering occasionally like it was laughing at me.

I leaned forward, gripping the edge of my desk, staring at the analytics like they might change if I glared hard enough.

Maybe I missed something? Maybe there was some hidden reason why one novel was flopping and the other was skyrocketing?

I thought as I grabbed my cigarette pack only to curse seeing that there was only one left sighing I placed the cigarette between my lips and Ignited It with my wore down lighter.

The acrid smoke curled from the tip of my cigarette, drifting lazily toward the ceiling, mixing with the faint haze that permanently clung to the apartment.

I took a deep drag, letting the nicotine burn through my lungs before exhaling, my mind a tangled mess of frustration, disbelief, and reluctant acceptance.

"Well,"

I muttered to myself, staring at the ceiling as I rolled the cigarette between my fingers, watching the embers glow and fade.

"It's either getting back to writing Terranum Imperium… or re-enlisting."

The thought made me pause. I hadn't seriously considered going back to the army not since I got out.

But looking at the numbers, the stats, the absolute bulls*it that was my writing career right now…

Maybe going back wouldn't be the worst thing.

At least in the army, I knew the rules. Knew the expectations. The payday was guaranteed with additional benefits such as rent compensation. And as I am now? Well It looks like It wont be loong before I end up sleeping In the streets.

I flicked the cigarette against the edge of the overflowing ashtray, knocking off a curl of ash, before taking one last long drag.

"F*ck it,"

I exhaled.

"Might as well see if those contract offers are still valid."

I dropped the butt into the ashtray, watching it smolder among the graveyard of past cigarettes

Stretching my arms, I turned back to the monitor, the glow still casting long shadows across my apartment.

I pulled up the contract emails again. Two separate publishers had reached out about Terranum Imperium both were offering 50/50, with one allowing me to keep my copy rights and the other one basically buying them off me the moment I signed the contract meaning that they could do whatever they wanted with the book.

Not much, but more than the literal zero I was making off Gaian Imperium. I drummed my fingers on the desk, debating.

It wasn't just about the money, okay, maybe it was about the money, considering my current state, but it was also the sheer principle of it.

I had poured my soul into Gaian Imperium. Months of research, sleepless nights crafting intricate world-building, refining character arcs, trying to make it something great.

And yet, people barely gave a damn.

Meanwhile, Terranum Imperium, a half-assed, fast-paced, explosion filled scifi binge I wrote while on a scifi movie marathon, was exploding.

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking my head.

"Guess people just like overpowered warlord op mcs from the start more than from to strong ones."

I sighed and opened up my author dashboard.

If I was going to take the contract offers seriously, I needed to clear the deck. First step, shutting down Gaian Imperium.

I typed out the announcement quickly, fingers flying across the keyboard:.

Announcement. The Future of Gaian Imperium.

Hey everyone,

I wanted to take a moment to thank those of you who have been following Gaian Imperium The Last Gaian.

Unfortunately, due to low engagement and poor performance, I've decided to discontinue the series.

I put a lot of work into it, but at the end of the day, if a story isn't connecting with an audience, there's no point in forcing it.

Thanks to those who stuck around, and I hope you'll check out Terranum Imperium instead.

Author.

I hovered over the Post button.

A weird lump formed in my throat. It wasn't just disappointment, it was anger, resentment, frustration.

This was supposed to be the novel. My magnum opus. But it was a flop. I swallowed hard.

"It is what it is."

Click.

The post went live. There was no taking it back now.

I sat back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. My head ached, not just from lack of sleep, but from the sheer mental whiplash of it all.

I had to shift gears. Fast. I pulled up Terranum Imperium, skimming over the latest chapters.

It had been months since I last updated it, mostly because I had been too focused on Gaian Imperium.

I cracked my knuckles, exhaling slowly. Time to get back to work. The cursor blinked on the blank page of the new chapter. And for a few moments I just stared at It.

Until the notification sound cut through the silence, a small chime that felt like a gunshot in the eerie stillness of my apartment.

My fingers froze over the keyboard, my eyes narrowing as I dragged my cursor toward the notification tab.

A new comment. From someone named G*d. I clicked it open, my brows furrowing as I read the words that popped up on my screen.

"F*CK YOU AUTHOR!!! I was having a f*cking BLAST reading this, and you're telling me you're abandoning this masterpiece for that damn piece of sh*t TOXIC MASCULINITY POWER FANTASY THAT YOU WROTE???"

I felt my temples throb, my vision pulsing with pure, unfiltered irritation. I clenched my jaw, rolling my shoulders before cracking my knuckles.

"Motherf*cker how dare you call my baby toxic masculanity power fantasy"

I cursed under my breath because even though I lost Interest In continuing that book, that was still my baby that I cooked up with that ultimate edge lord mind of mine, fingers flying across the keyboard.

I slammed out my response, my typing fast, aggressive, the sound of each keystroke echoing through my tiny apartment.

"Hey, if you're gonna curse at me, you might as well throw some money my way. My bills aren't going to pay themselves, genius."

I hit send.

Seconds later, the notification chimed again.

"Oh, so now you want money? B*TCH, IF I HAD MONEY, I WOULDN'T BE READING WEB NOVELS FOR FREE."

I snorted, shaking my head.

"Then shut the f*ck up and let me chase the bag. You want free content AND want to dictate what I write? Do I look like your underpaid servant?"

I hit enter only for the narcisist g*d wana be motherf*cker who propably had a few screws loose from the looks of it to reply Intsantly.

"YES. AS A MATTER OF FACT, YOU DO. NOW GET BACK TO WORK AND FINISH THE DAMN BOOK MORTAL OTHERWISE YOURE GETTING A ONE WAY TICKET STRAIGHT TO HELL AND IM CALLING MY SON TO MAKE SURE HE GIVES YOU HIS SPECIAL AND UNDIVIDED ATTENTION"

What the f*ck? Is this guy suffering from Chunibyo syndrome, does he think he's actually g*d or something?