Chapter 11: System Backend

"This... is a lot of information."

Looking at the fragmented panel displaying data, Allen couldn’t help but mutter to himself.

Clearly, the content shown on the system panel was far from ordinary.

Or rather, it was completely unlike anything he had seen before.

The entries displayed on the panel—such as the so-called [World Evolution Rate] and the descriptions of [Plot Items]—were not something a user would typically encounter in normal system operations.

The most significant clue, however, lay in the garbled string of text at the top of the panel, from which Allen could discern words like "backend" and "history records." These words all but confirmed the fact that he had somehow accessed the system’s most core internal backend interface.

"A normal system would never have such an issue!"

He muttered sarcastically as his gaze swept over the panel that looked as if it could fall apart at any moment.

Then it hit him—what more could he expect from a system already in such a state of disrepair?

"At least being able to see this data might be a good thing for now."

Sure, having a system so broken that it exposed its backend made Allen feel a bit speechless.

But on second thought...

If the system had been fully functional and in perfect condition, he might never have had the chance to access and examine this core backend information.

Especially intriguing was the [World Evolution Rate] and the 0.01% progress figure displayed underneath.

Almost instinctively, Allen connected it to the script he had recently completed using the system.

Still, what exactly this [World Evolution Rate] represented and implied remained unclear to him.

From the description alone, Allen could only guess that it might have something to do with the impact his scripts had on the real world.

As for what would happen when the evolution rate increased further, Allen figured he would need to create and complete more scripts to uncover the answer.

Putting aside the unclear [World Evolution Rate], the [Plot Items] section was much easier to understand.

Especially with the label (100/Exchange) next to the item.

The straightforward annotation made it immediately clear.

It was evident that, according to the system, the cost to exchange the mysterious [Music Box]—the central element that triggered the events in his script The Loop—was precisely 100 points of [Plot Value].

As for what the redemption cost would be if this item were to be listed in the [System Shop] later?

That, Allen didn’t know.

Still, he had a hunch it wouldn’t be lower than the backend’s 100-point base cost. It could easily be 200, 300, or even soar to 1,000 points.

After all, systems across the multiverse were infamous for their predatory practices.

There was no doubt in Allen’s mind—this system was once among the most notorious of them all.

Judging from the backend panel's information, Allen was almost certain of one thing:

The system likely profited handsomely by materializing props from its users' scripts, listing them in the [Shop], and reselling them to rake in substantial [Plot Value].

A classic "exploit and profit" strategy, executed flawlessly.

Allen couldn’t help but imagine that this aggressive exploitation might have been the reason the system was now in such a sorry state.

Of course, speculating on the system’s past was meaningless at this point.

What mattered now was whether the (100/Exchange) next to [Plot Item—Music Box] really worked.

In other words, could Allen operate this backend system the same way he used the [Script Evolution] feature?

If it worked, the implications would be massive.

He wouldn’t just be using the system to craft scripts and shape reality.

He could also amass substantial power and resources for himself—securely, and at an internal cost.

The thought of successfully redeeming the [Music Box] and what it could signify made Allen’s heartbeat quicken, despite his efforts to remain calm.

"It's decided—[Music Box], you're the one."

Taking a deep breath to steady his emotions, Allen focused on the flashing backend interface and issued the command to redeem the [Plot Item—Music Box] (100/Exchange).

"..."

"…Warning… Warning…"

"Error… Operation…"

"Permission… Verification… Approved?"

As Allen input his command, a series of glaring red warnings filled the panel.

Each attempt to process the operation triggered strange and incomprehensible messages to flash across the screen.

Watching the chaotic text distort and reappear, Allen felt his heart stop.

He held his breath, staring intently at the flickering panel, not daring to move a muscle.

"…Link@#***…"

"Error… Second Attempt… Failure!"

If the system had been in perfect condition, Allen's borderline "cheat-like" behavior would have been impossible to succeed.

Under normal circumstances, such actions would lead to harsh penalties—perhaps even tasks of unbearable difficulty.

A more ruthless system might have outright eliminated him.

But Allen was lucky.

The system’s current broken state left it unable to retaliate effectively.

All it could do was display garbled warnings on its cracked panel, blinking incessantly, without doing anything else.

Ultimately, the system was powerless to stop him.

[Plot Value]: 1620

After consuming 100 points of [Plot Value], the fragmented system panel briefly froze.

Moments later, without any intermediaries profiting off the difference, a weathered and darkened [Music Box] materialized before Allen.

---

(End of Chapter)