It's kind of funny how silence feels louder when you know it's the end.

The same silence that used to mean "time to write" now just… sits there. Waiting. Heavy, but peaceful in its own way.

Hey everyone — it's me, the author.

Yeah… this is it.

The final chapter.

If you're reading this, then you've followed Clark's journey — through blood, through pain, through the madness that was the Elysian Graft, through all the emotions I poured into those messy, chaotic pages. And I owe you something real: not a cliffhanger, not a teaser, but honesty.

I'm ending this novel.

Not because I hate it.

Not because I've lost the story.

But because right now… I think I've lost myself somewhere along the way.

When I started Realistic Isekai: I Didn't Read This in My Novels!, it was just a fun idea in my head. A little world where I could mix humor and pain, where a guy like Clark — broken, talented, stubborn — could exist. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't meant to be one. He just wanted to go home.

And somehow, that hit something in me too.

Because that's what writing feels like sometimes.

You get thrown into a world you didn't expect, and all you want is to find your way back — to balance, to joy, to peace.

But life, huh? Life doesn't always follow your drafts.

School started pressing in, responsibilities kept piling up, and my stats… well, they weren't exactly giving me motivation. I looked at the numbers, then looked at my work, and something in me cracked.

I told myself, "Just one more chapter."

Then another.

Then another.

Until I realized I was writing on fumes — pushing through because I loved Clark and this world, not because I had anything left to give.

And when one of my writer friends gave me feedback — harsh, honest feedback — it hurt. Like, really hurt. Not because they were wrong, but because they were right.

And I think I needed that.

I learned something from it, though. Pain, when it's honest, doesn't destroy you. It just humbles you. It's the same lesson Clark learned every time he got torn apart and rebuilt. I didn't even realize I was writing a reflection of my own heart until now.

This story… was my Elysian Graft.

It broke me.

It healed me.

It taught me that stories aren't just things we create — they're mirrors that show us who we are.

When I think about this world, I still see the scenes vividly.

Lyari, proud and fiery, her blade shining under elven light.

Andor, always calm but haunted by duty.

Caeleth, quiet yet carrying so much regret.

And Clark… my stubborn, foolish human who refused to die no matter how much pain the world threw at him.

He's still alive in my head, you know. Even now, I can almost hear him muttering under his breath,

"You're really ending this here? After everything I've been through?"

And maybe he's right to be angry.

But if he could see the person behind the screen — the one who stayed up past midnight on a near-dead phone, typing scenes through exhaustion — he'd understand.

Because endings aren't always failures.

Sometimes, they're pauses before a better beginning.

I want to say thank you — to every single reader who made it this far. You have no idea how much your views, your comments, even your quiet presence meant. Every little "Ttfc" or "this was awesome" gave me more fuel than I can explain.

There were days I wanted to stop completely, and then I'd see someone had added the novel to their library, or left a tiny comment like "This is quite unique," and I'd smile. Because it meant someone out there understood.

That's the magic of stories, isn't it?

We create them in isolation, and somehow they connect to people we've never met.

---

But yeah, this is where I'll stop.

For now.

I'll focus on school — get through this next chapter of real life. Because let's be honest, being a student feels like an isekai quest in itself. You wake up tired, face monsters in the form of deadlines, and pray for a miracle buff called "free time."

But I'm not giving up on writing. No way.

This might be the end of this story, but it's not the end of me as a storyteller. Maybe one day, when I'm ready — when I've learned more, lived more, failed more — I'll write something again. Something bigger, stronger, better.

And when that time comes, I'll remember this story. I'll remember Clark.

Because he was my first step into a world that felt alive.

He was my stubborn reminder that pain can be beautiful when it's real.

So maybe one day, when I return, I'll write a new story. Maybe it'll even take place in the same world. Maybe Clark will make a cameo, older, wiser — the man who survived the impossible.

Or maybe he'll just stay where he is, frozen in this chapter, forever walking the line between life and death, between sanity and madness.

Either way, I think he deserves his rest.

And so do I.

---

Before I go, let me say this:

If you're someone who's been dreaming about writing too — do it.

Don't wait for the perfect idea, or the perfect stats, or the perfect words.

Start messy.

Start scared.

Start anyway.

Because that's the real story. Not perfection — progress.

If my novel didn't get thousands of reads or fancy contracts, it's fine. Because it gave me something priceless — experience.

I learned how to make worlds, how to break them, and how to breathe life into characters that only existed in my mind.

And somewhere in those sleepless nights, I found a little more of myself too.

So if you've been here since Chapter 1 — thank you for being part of this journey.

If you joined halfway — thank you for catching up.

And if you're reading this long after the novel stopped updating — thank you for giving it a chance anyway.

You're all a part of this story now.

Forever.

---

I'll leave Clark here, in that broken elven forest, half-man, half-legend — still searching for peace.

And I'll walk away, quietly, from behind the keyboard.

But I'll carry his story — our story — with me.

Because maybe the truth is… every writer's first story never really ends.

It just sleeps — waiting to wake again, in a better time, a better place, under a better pen.

So yeah. This is it.

The end of Realistic Isekai.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for believing.

Thank you for being part of something that meant more to me than you'll ever know.

Until the next story, my friends.

Stay curious. Stay kind.

And keep surviving your own worlds.

– Muddy_Shark (a.k.a. the guy who wrote Clark's pain and accidentally shared his own)

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