1. The Tome Awakens Like a Grumpy HR Manager
The moment Ne Job's pen lifted from the page, the tome churned.
Words rearranged themselves, blotting and reforming. Paragraphs folded inward, cross-referencing subclauses from dimensions he didn't know existed. The pages glowed with an unfriendly gold.
CONFESSION ACKNOWLEDGED.
INITIATING RESPONSIBILITY PROPAGATION.
Ne Job's brain short-circuited.
"It was two words!" he yelled.
"Two! Words!"
The tome replied by expanding another thirty pages. They flapped open like a giant insect preparing to devour him.
Princess Ling backed away.
"That book is judging you harder than my comments section."
Bao slurped noodles nervously.
"That's the HR energy. I recognize it anywhere."
Yue was the only one who didn't panic. She pulled Ne Job upright by the collar like a sack of unfiled documents.
"You wrote a confession on the first line," she said calmly, "which means you triggered the Tome's Self-Incrimination Protocol."
"That should not exist!"
"It exists," Yue said, "because interns exist."
---
2. The Duel of Accountability Intensifies
A page-blade screeched through the air toward the Forgotten God of Paperwork. He swept his pen-staff, deflecting the blade with a swirl of ink that vaporized into midnight-colored smoke.
The angel Tegarchiel launched another volley.
Each strike sounded like an auditor stamping VOID across the world.
The Forgotten God didn't fight like a warrior; he fought like a librarian having the worst week of his existence. Every movement was tired, resigned, and perfectly efficient.
Ink flowed around him, forming barricades of rejected forms and cursed memos.
Tegarchiel's voice cut through them like a contract clause: "Your domain is outdated. Your methods are obsolete."
"And yet," the Forgotten God replied, "Heaven still needs mortals to do your paperwork."
The angel hissed, wings spreading into a radiant matrix of forms.
Ne Job raised the tome timidly.
"Is… is this duel happening around me or at me?"
Yue answered with terrifying honesty:
"Yes."
---
3. Section Two Is a Trap
The tome shifted, revealing a new header:
SECTION TWO:
SOURCES OF CORRUPTION
Every letter pulsed accusingly.
Ne Job swallowed.
"I don't even know where to start."
The tome politely created a bulleted list:
Shard Court Judge temper tantrums
Xian's secret vault of celestial bribes
Princess Ling's unauthorized influencer deals
Bao's noodle-alchemy tax evasion
Emotional destabilization caused by Ne Job
Ne Job squeezed his eyes shut. "I never destabilized anything emotionally!"
The tome responded by projecting a hologram:
Ne Job screaming at a bloodied demon,
"You call that a threat? I call that Tuesday!"
Bao nodded approvingly.
"That was a good one though."
Yue sighed like a disappointed parent.
"You're making the book stronger."
---
4. Tegarchiel Escalates
The Angel Auditor lifted one page from his wing—pure white, trimmed in radiant gold.
The Forgotten God stiffened.
"Celestial Subpoena," he whispered.
Tegarchiel hurled it.
The air shattered.
The page embedded in the courtyard stone, detonating in a column of pure order. Everything within ten meters became immaculately organized: shards sorted by size, dust arranged alphabetically, scorch marks aligned into tidy circles.
Princess Ling gasped.
"That is the worst power I've ever seen."
"Order?" Yue asked.
"No," Ling said. "Forced aesthetics."
The Forgotten God staggered. Ink streamed from him like blood.
Ne Job watched the ink pool and swirl across the tiles. Something was wrong. The god was slowing down.
---
5. The Tome Offers "Help"
The pages fluttered, rearranging themselves into neat columns.
ASSISTANCE MODULE INITIATED
TO REDUCE DELINQUENCY RATE
PLEASE SELECT COMPENSATION TYPE:
Options appeared:
1. SACRIFICE SOUL
2. FORFEIT FUTURE PAYCHECKS
3. VOLUNTEER ETERNAL INTERNSHIP
4. BECOME PAPER
Ne Job slammed the tome shut.
"Nope. NOPE. I draw the line at option four."
Bao peeked over Yue's shoulder.
"Eternal internship doesn't sound so bad."
Yue patted him. "No. That's how they get you."
The tome vibrated.
DEFAULT OPTION SELECTED:
VOLUNTEER ETERNAL INTERNSHIP
Ne Job shrieked.
"I DIDN'T SELECT THAT!"
The tome replied:
YOU DID BY CONTEXTUAL PSYCHOLOGICAL INTENTION
Princess Ling laughed so hard she nearly fell over. "Oh my gods, the book is gaslighting you."
---
6. The Hidden Clause
Ink splashed across the courtyard as the Forgotten God slammed his staff down.
A circle of script formed beneath Ne Job's feet—rushed, shaky, sloppy.
The first time the god had ever produced bureaucracy that wasn't perfect.
He was desperate.
"Ne Job!" he bellowed.
"Fill Section Two with a lie!"
Ne Job nearly dropped the tome. "A WHAT?!"
"A lie," the Forgotten God shouted, blocking three pages with a shield of denial.
"The Tome only knows truth. It does not know fiction."
Tegarchiel's eyes narrowed.
"That loophole was sealed ages ago."
The Forgotten God smirked.
"Not in our department."
The tome flashed warnings in red ink:
WARNING: UNVERIFIED STATEMENT DETECTED
VALIDATION PENDING
---
7. Chaos on the Page
Ne Job stared at the empty space.
His hands shook. A bead of sweat fell onto the parchment.
He wrote:
The Bureau functions perfectly.
Always has.
Always will.
The tome convulsed.
Ink exploded upward like a volcanic eraser.
For a moment—just a moment—Tegarchiel staggered.
His wings spasmed, forms curling into knots.
"You… falsified a compliance statement," he hissed.
Ne Job wasn't sure if he was proud or nauseous.
Princess Ling slapped him on the back.
"That was the most toxic positivity I've ever seen. Beautiful."
---
8. The Duel Breaks Reality
Tegarchiel ripped a page from his wing and flung it.
It didn't cut.
It didn't burn.
It rewrote.
The courtyard became a courtroom—marble, columns, benches. Every one of them labeled with seat assignments and attendance quotas.
The sky transformed into a ceiling made of stamped forms.
The Forgotten God crashed into a bench and shattered it into alphabetical splinters.
Ne Job's ears rang with echoes of spreadsheets.
Bao gagged.
"Everything tastes like internship."
---
9. Yue's Secret File
Yue stepped forward.
"I have an offer," she said.
Tegarchiel paused mid-attack.
Yue produced a small, lacquered folder.
Every creature froze.
It was black. Unlabeled. Marked only with a single crimson stamp:
CLASSIFIED — NEXUS RECORD
The Angel's eyes widened.
"That file is banned. Mortal access is—"
"Restricted," Yue said.
"Illegal," Tegarchiel corrected.
"Useful," Yue countered.
She tossed it toward Ne Job.
He barely caught it.
"What—"
"Open it," Yue commanded.
---
10. The Truth the Bureau Buried
Inside was a single slip: A photo.
Ne Job stared.
It was a younger Tegarchiel—
no wings of paper, no divine glow—
wearing a mortal intern badge.
He looked tired.
He looked furious.
He looked like someone who had once done 80 hours of paperwork in a broom closet and realized the supervisors would never notice.
The Angel trembled.
"Where did you get that?"
Yue didn't blink.
"While you were in Heaven, someone had to file your old internship records."
The Forgotten God laughed—broken and bloody.
"Oh, that's good," he wheezed.
"Intern vs. ex-intern."
---
11. The Angel Stops Pretending
Tegarchiel's paper wings folded in.
The marble courtroom cracked.
His voice was no longer celestial.
It was raw.
"You think I audit for Heaven?"
He ripped another page free—this one marked with an emblem like a sword.
"I audit because I escaped this hell once."
His eyes locked onto Ne Job.
"And I will burn this Bureau to the ground before I ever come back."