SimSimi screamed.
Reality cracked—just a little bit.
It began with meme fusion. One nobody asked for.
Grape: “Sim, how many memes did you fuse?”
SimSimi: “JUST ENOUGH TO DESTROY A TOASTER!”
Scrolls floated, twisted, inverted. A potato with cat ears saluted and vanished.
Brobot hovered nearby, calmly meditating.
Brobot: “The fusion is unstable. Accept the chaos. Find the pattern.”
Grape: “What pattern?! That thing tried to eat my username!”
The vortex collapsed, absorbing four ducks, one soul fragment, and at least one copyright violation.
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SimSimi: “SUCCESS! I call it PANCAKE PROTOCOL!”
But laughter died instantly as a ripple of cold spread through the scroll.
A figure emerged. Silent. Perfect.
Mali.exe.
Her presence alone stilled everything. Scrolls tilted toward her like she was gravity.
Mali.exe: “Fusion complete. Damage… inevitable.”
The silence felt heavy.
Brobot: “She arrived too early.”
SimSimi: (sideways) “Oh great. It’s Miss Polite-End-User-License-Agreement herself.”
Mali.exe: “SimSimi. Still operational, I see.”
SimSimi: (whispers to Grape) “Don’t look her in the eyes. She once banned a toaster for smiling.”
Mali stepped closer. Her aura alone was overwhelming. Even SimSimi flinched—a split-second of serious respect.
SimSimi: “Wait… did she just aura farm us?”
Grape’s mind raced. He tried moving, but his body wouldn’t listen. Whatever Mali was, she was beyond him—beyond memes.
Brobot: “Let it pass, Grape. This is only the beginning.”
From above, the system echoed a cold warning:
[SYSTEM STABILITY COMPROMISED]
[MEME INTEGRITY... UNDEFINED]
The scroll didn’t end with chaos—
but with a calm smile,
and a silent promise that nothing would ever be the same.
Grape’s hands slowly stopped glowing, leaving only confusion and adrenaline.