The Seed pulsed faintly—but suddenly, the world trembled.
The hot fanservice units—once manageable distractions—shifted in form.
Their movements no longer obeyed physics, probability, or canon.
They were… aware.
Not conscious like a person.
Not alive like a virus.
Meta.
"This… isn't normal," Trojan Horse muttered.
"They're… evolving."
Brush blinked.
The units glimmered. Outlines blurred. Colors intensified. Every looped attack, every exaggerated strike, coalesced into a single, unstoppable waveform.
Crunchyroller's remaining hand flexed.
"They're no longer following the algorithm," she said.
"They've tapped into meta-layer coding. Invincible for a short cycle."
Brush felt it instantly.
Not a punch. Not a spell.
A limit.
"Invincible…?" he whispered.
"Nothing is supposed to be invincible."
The Gacha Master's voice boomed through the network:
"They've awakened. They're no longer units—they are a system anomaly."
The meta-units struck again. This time, every attack bypassed shields, reflection, and absorption.
Brush teleported, dodged, countered—but the attacks adjusted mid-action, anticipating every movement.
Trojan Horse gritted her teeth.
"Even you can't break through this," she said.
Brush clenched his fists. The Seed of the Internet flared.
"Then I'll wait," he said calmly.
"They're invincible… only for now."
Time began to stretch.
The meta-state was temporary—counted in the smallest increments of probability—but in that short window, Brush couldn't harm a single one.
"They feed on engagement," Crunchyroller muttered, her voice low.
"All of them, amplified by the system."
Brush took a deep breath.
"Then I'll prepare," he said.
"And when they're vulnerable again…"
He let his grin spread.
"…they'll become the fuel for everything I need."
The meta-units struck once more, fusing speed, prediction, and style into a single unstoppable wave.
Brush didn't fight it—he let it wash over him.
And somewhere deep in the Seed, he began learning their rhythm.