Chapter 133: The Union of the Deleted and the Great Buffet of Chaos
The Empire of the Violet Star had officially become the multiversal "Lost and Found." Following the utter humiliation of the Grand Overseer, the rift between the Empire and the Null-Zone didn't just stay open; it became a revolving door. Volt, the Demon King, had sent out a cosmic invitation across the data-streams of existence: "Are you tired of being a side character? Did a hero steal your girlfriend and then delete your world? Come to the Obsidian Spire. We have dental, better dental, and snacks."
By noon, the Hall of the Hearth was packed. It was the most bizarre assembly in the history of fiction. There were half-rendered skeletons from abandoned horror games, 8-bit warriors who could only move in four directions, and a very confused "Protagonist" from a romance novel that had been cancelled after three pages.
Volt sat on his throne, now wearing a "Boss of the Year" t-shirt over his royal armor. He looked out at the sea of rejected data. On his wrist, the Author's Mark was glowing with a warm, golden hum, acting as a universal translator for all the different genres gathered in the room.
"Alright, listen up!" Volt shouted, his voice echoing through the diamond rafters. "I know the Council treated you like trash. They called you 'errors,' 'redundancies,' and 'budget cuts.' But in my empire, you are the main cast! Except for that guy in the back who's literally just a floating leg—you're a recurring guest star."
The crowd cheered, or at least made sounds that resembled cheering. An 8-bit knight raised his sword. "Do we get to punch the Overseer?"
"Punch him?" Akuto stepped forward, balancing a tray of appetizers on his dark wings. "We're going to rewrite his life story so he becomes a background character in a documentary about grass! Now, who wants some 'Divine Sliders'?"
The growth of the Empire's influence was now breaking the scale. The "Inkstone" system, which had been tracking their power, had given up and just displayed a smiley face emoji next to the number 20 Million. The sheer density of narrative energy in the room was so high that Anos had to use his sword to literally trim the reality back so it wouldn't overflow into the neighboring galaxy.
"Father," Anos said, leaning against a pillar. "We have a problem. The 'Multiversal Union of Protagonists'—the ones who actually like the Council—have heard about our little party. They're calling us a 'Union of Villains' and are planning a boycott. Also, a physical invasion."
Volt took a sip of his smoothie. "A boycott? What are they going to do? Not appear in my dreams? Let them come. We have a 2-D ninja who can hide in their shadows and a magical girl whose wand is actually a bazooka. We're fine."
Suddenly, the front doors of the hall—which were forty feet tall and made of solid obsidian—were kicked open. Standing there was a man with hair so spiky it could puncture a tire, wearing a gi that was slightly too small for his muscles. He was surrounded by a glowing blue aura that smelled like excessive screaming.
"I am Protagonist #402!" the man bellowed. "I've had twelve seasons, three movies, and a spin-off! I cannot allow this union of losers to exist! It goes against the Power of Friendship!"
The room went silent. The 8-bit knight hid behind a Soul-Tree. The floating leg tried to hop away.
Akuto walked up to the spiked-haired man. He looked at the blue aura, then at the man's muscles. "Twelve seasons? Wow. And in all that time, did you ever learn how to use a door handle instead of kicking it? We just had those polished."
"Silence, villain!" Protagonist #402 yelled, charging a glowing ball of energy in his hands. "Prepare to be defeated by the spirit of—"
Before he could finish, Vanessa walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, dear. We have a 'No Screaming' policy in the buffet area. It curdles the milk."
The Protagonist blinked. "But... I have to scream. It's how I power up."
Volt stood up from his throne, the Author's Mark flaring with a mischievous light. "Tell you what, #402. Since you're a big shot, let's look at your 'Contract'."
Volt flicked his wrist, and a holographic scroll appeared above the Protagonist's head. "Let's see... 'Will always win if he remembers his friends'... 'Hair gets longer when angry'... oh, here it is: 'Weakness: High Taxes and Logical Consistency'."
Volt reached out and "edited" the scroll with his finger. "Now, your contract says: 'Is actually a very talented accountant who loves knitting'."
In a flash of light, the Protagonist's blue aura vanished. His spiky hair flattened into a sensible comb-over. His gi turned into a sweater vest, and he found himself holding a calculator instead of a ball of energy.
"Wait..." the man said, looking at his calculator. "I suddenly feel a desperate need to balance the Empire's books. Your spending on 'Oversized Mallets' is quite frankly irresponsible, Demon King."
The Hall of the Hearth erupted in laughter. Sasha and Karin were leaning against each other, gasping for air. "He turned the Ultimate Warrior into a CPA!" Sasha managed to choke out.
"It's more humane than killing him," Volt said, sitting back down. "And honestly, we really needed someone to look at our 20 million influence points. It's getting messy."
The party continued into the night. The "Union of the Deleted" was a success. They had an army of glitches, a reformed protagonist accountant, and enough food to feed three dimensions. The status of the multiverse was no longer "Applying" or even "Executing". It was now officially labeled: [GENRE: WHATEVER VOLT WANTS].
As the violet sun dipped below the horizon, Volt looked at his family and his new, strange army. "Tomorrow," he said, "the Council will realize that they don't own the ink. We do. And we're going to draw mustaches on all their statues."
Anos raised his glass. "To the Demon King's Union."
Akuto cheered, throwing a rubber chicken into the air. "And to better snacks!"
The Empire was thriving, the gods were crying, and the Demon King was just getting started. The world wasn't just his story anymore; it was his playground.