by IMERPUS RELUR
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The system rebooted in silence.
No voice. No console. Just a single line of corrupted code blinking midair.
> ERROR: Protocol breach.
Then another.
> ERROR: Glitch trace not found.
Then more.
The code multiplied like a virus, lines spiraling across the black space until the void looked like a broken god's diary. Words twisted. Letters reversed. Some lines didn't even use the alphabet.
IMER reached out and touched one of the glyphs.
It burned his skin.
But when he pulled his hand back, the scar that remained wasn't damage.
It was a weapon.
The error had written itself onto him. And in that instant, IMER realized something terrifying:
The system didn't control the rewrite anymore.
He did.
He waved his hand again, slower this time. The corrupted code followed, forming a blade—jagged, unstable, pulsing like a heartbeat that didn't belong to him.
> "This isn't just a cheat code," he whispered.
"It's a broken law rewritten into power."
He turned as the shadows moved. Figures emerged—half-formed, incomplete sins crawling toward him. Failed echoes. Canceled commands.
They attacked.
He moved.
One cut. One glitch. One rewritten motion—and they shattered like illusions unworthy of being real.
When it was over, he stood surrounded by silence, breathing heavy, hand still glowing.
> "I am the Error," he said.
"And the Error is mine."