IDP Central's ops deck was quieter than usual, the kind of hush that only happened when everyone was pretending they weren't waiting for the next shoe to drop. Commissioner Zane "Z" Vortex stood at the panoramic viewport, staring out at the swirling dimensional folds that shielded Earth from the multiverse's worst ideas. His silver hair caught the soft blue glow of the shields, and the rune-scars across his chest pulsed faintly under his half-open jacket—like they were counting down.
Seventy-eight percent seal integrity after the casino. Seventy-seven after the shadow palace. The visions were no longer flashes; they were full-color reruns now. Starlit chambers. Ancient beings in robes made of raw story threads. One of them—tall, amused, voice like distant thunder—laughing as they wrapped the final chain around a newborn singularity. "He'll keep the game funny. If he ever wakes up fully… well. No more drama. No more stakes. Just one big, boring punchline."
Z took a slow breath. "Boring sounds peaceful."
The priority alert slammed into the room like a brick through a window.
REALM 999 – THE LULZ DIMENSION
Threat: Mass-scale influencer summoning & forced ascension (Class Omega Viral)
Perpetrator: Supreme Troll God "Skibidi Sigma," self-proclaimed Emperor of Brainrot
Method: Viral portals disguised as "once-in-a-lifetime collabs." Targets: Earth content creators, TikTokers, streamers, meme lords. Harvesting "views, likes, and rizz" to fuel a ritual that will shatter the final outer layer of a specific primordial seal signature—IDP Commissioner Z Vortex.
Victims currently trapped & ascending: 4,673 and rising exponentially.
Special note: Realm physics governed by meme logic. Direct confrontation may trigger "ratio cascade" or "sus amogus event."
Reyes let out a low whistle. "He's literally trying to farm engagement to break your seals."
Jax grinned. "Why did the influencer cross the road?"
Sparks cut him off. "We know, Jax. Save it for the boss fight."
Lena just smirked and chambered a round in her rifle. Miko looked like she was one bad pun away from quitting.
Z turned from the viewport, grin already sharpening. "Team, we're going full undercover. Dress like you're about to go live. Sparks, spoof us premium verified accounts. Reyes, Jax—tank the chat. Lena, snipe any portal anchors. I'll handle Skibidi Sigma personally. Time to ratio a god."
Sparks had the portal ready in ninety seconds—swirling green and purple, the colors of bad Wi-Fi and toxic chat. The team stepped through looking like they belonged on the trending page.
The Lulz Dimension was every internet hellscape given physical form.
They materialized on a floating platform made of glowing TikTok logos the size of city buses. Endless scrolling highways of light stretched in every direction, carrying millions of summoned Earth creators. Neon signs screamed "GO LIVE OR GO HOME," "SUB OR DIE," and "ONLYFANS REALM – 18+." The sky was a giant loading screen that occasionally buffered. Gravity worked on vibes. Physics obeyed the rule of funny.
Everywhere, Earth influencers were being "upgraded." A famous gamer in a hoodie was floating mid-air while glowing pixels forced him into glowing armor labeled "Sigma Protagonist #472." A makeup influencer screamed as her skin turned into flawless anime cel-shading. A fitness bro was bench-pressing a literal mountain while chat holograms spammed "LETS GOOOOO."
In the center of it all hovered the Citadel of Skibidi—a colossal fortress built from stacked Among Us crewmates, Skibidi toilet statues, and endless looping sigma male edits. At the very top, on a throne of stolen engagement metrics, sat Supreme Troll God Skibidi Sigma.
He was twelve feet tall, body constantly shifting between meme templates: one second a photorealistic gigachad, next a low-poly Skibidi toilet with glowing red eyes, next a stick figure with Ohio rizz. His voice was every text-to-speech voice layered at once.
"YO YO YO, CHAT! We got four thousand fresh goats ascending today! Let's get these views to the moon so we can crack that big bad seal on the funny cop man! L + ratio + he's sealed anyway!"
Z stepped forward on the main stage platform, hands in pockets, looking every inch the verified chaos agent.
"Stop. Hands up. Hands where I can see them, Skibidi. Or tentacles. Or whatever Ohio rizz you're packing today. IDP. This is an illegal mass summoning operation. Also, your content is mid."
The entire dimension went dead silent except for one distant "sus" echo.
Skibidi Sigma's form glitched. "Bro… you just walked into my boss fight? No cap?"
Z flashed his badge, which projected a giant holographic "Verified" checkmark. "Cap. All cap. You're under arrest for non-consensual ascension, emotional farming, and crimes against good taste."
Skibidi Sigma laughed—a sound like every bad AI voice combined. "You think your little cop jokes can touch me? I'm the final boss of the internet! I run on pure brainrot! Watch this—ASCENSION PROTOCOL!"
He snapped glowing fingers. Every summoned creator suddenly leveled up violently. Power spikes. Glowing auras. Forced isekai powers. The air filled with screaming chat holograms: "W RIZZ," "GYATT," "SKIBIDI TOILET TAKEOVER."
Z's system screamed.
Threat level: Omega Viral.
Ability detected: Brainrot Dominion, Engagement Harvest, Seal-Shatter Ratio Wave.
Seals at 76% integrity. Critical resonance detected. Primordial echo intensifying.
A full vision slammed into him this time—no longer a flash.
The Primordials sat around an endless poker table made of reality itself. One of them—silver-haired, ironically similar to Z—dealt the final card: a joker with Z's face on it. "He'll keep everything funny. The ultimate wildcard. But if he ever goes full power… every story ends in one punchline. No more tragedy. No more tension. Just laughter forever. The game would be over."
They chained the card. Laughed. "Let him stay sealed. Let the multiverse stay dramatic."
Z blinked back to the present, eyes glowing brighter than the loading sky.
"Not today, chat."
He raised one hand. The system flared white-hot.
Copying Brainrot Dominion… adapting… enhancing with anti-cringe counter-matrix. Converting viral energy into weaponized dad humor.
The ratio wave Skibidi Sigma unleashed—pure concentrated brainrot—hit Z and reversed like a slap.
Suddenly every ascending influencer snapped out of it. Their over-the-top powers fizzled into harmless sparkles. Their armor turned into Hawaiian shirts. Their glowing auras became dad-bod filters.
The chat holograms started spamming the opposite of what Skibidi wanted.
"BOOMER HUMOR DETECTED"
"THIS IS MID"
"HE GOT US"
Z stepped forward, red-tape energy whip now crackling with green "ratio" energy.
"Why did the sigma male go to therapy?"
Skibidi Sigma's form glitched harder. "Shut up—"
"Because he couldn't handle the rizz-ponsibility!"
The entire dimension groaned. Literal pain points appeared over Skibidi's head like a video game.
Z cracked the whip. Viral threads wrapped the Troll God, turning his shifting meme body into a single, frozen image: the "distracted boyfriend" meme with Skibidi as the boyfriend looking at "Dad Jokes" while his girlfriend "Brainrot" looked betrayed.
"Ratio + L + touch grass + you fell off + get help," Z said cheerfully.
Skibidi Sigma screamed—a high-pitched, distorted "SKIBIDI—NOOOOOO!"
The Citadel began collapsing as harvested engagement backlashed. Portals opened everywhere, sucking freed creators home. Thousands of grateful influencers poured through, many pausing to film quick "POV: You get saved by the hottest interdimensional cop" videos before vanishing.
One woman didn't run.
She was mid-twenties, athletic, with neon-pink undercut hair and a tactical crop top that read "I Survived the Isekai Expo." A glowing katana (clearly looted from a defeated minion) rested on her shoulder. She'd obviously been fighting from the inside—knuckles bloody, grin feral.
She walked straight up to Z while the dimension crumbled around them.
"You just ratio'd a god into existential crisis with boomer jokes," she said, voice husky with adrenaline. "I'm in love for the next six hours. Name's Vesper. Content creator. Sword girl. Currently single in every dimension."
Z's grin matched hers. "Z. No strings. Jump-ship's got a private berth."
"Perfect."
The team didn't even pretend to be surprised. Reyes just opened an extraction portal and waved them through first.
The private berth on the jump-ship was small, dimly lit, and perfect.
Vesper kicked the door shut and had Z against the wall in the same heartbeat. Her mouth was hungry, hands already shoving his jacket off, tracing the glowing rune-scars like she could read the ancient writing.
"No tomorrow," she breathed. "I go back to Earth, delete the footage, pretend this was a fever dream."
"Deal," Z murmured, spinning them so she was pressed to the cool metal. Clothes disappeared in a blur of laughter and urgency.
She was fire—fierce, playful, loud. She rode him like she fought: all aggression and skill, nails digging into the scars that flared brighter with every moan. Every time a new seal twinge hit him from the resonance, she bit the spot, turning cosmic warning into sparks of pleasure.
"Whatever they locked inside you," she gasped, hips rolling, "it feels like pure chaos."
Z laughed against her throat. "That's the point, apparently."
They moved to the narrow bunk, slower now, trading terrible memes between gasps.
"Why do gods hate you?" she teased, nails raking down his back.
"Because I always drop the final boss with a dad joke."
She laughed so hard she had to bury her face in his chest.
They went again—sweaty, laughing, breathless—until the extraction chime sounded.
Vesper dressed quickly, kissed him once more—deep, grateful, no promises—and stepped through her portal to Earth with a final wink. "If another god tries to farm me, call me. I owe you content."
Z straightened his jacket, ran fingers through his silver hair, and walked back to the team like he'd just finished a coffee break.
Debrief was fast.
"Four thousand six hundred seventy-three victims returned. One supreme troll god currently stuck in permanent 'distracted boyfriend' form awaiting tribunal." Reyes checked the box.
Sparks added quietly, "Seals at seventy-five percent. The resonance from this one was… different. Deeper. Like the Primordials are starting to panic."
Z nodded. Another vision flickered—shorter this time. The silver-haired Primordial looking straight at him across the poker table, smiling. "You're getting too good at this, jester."
Z clapped his hands, grin back at full wattage.
"Next alert's live already. Something about a mecha realm where a robot emperor is summoning engineers to build a 'perfect waifu army.' Who wants to crash a robot wedding?"
Hands shot up. Jax started a new pun.
Z laughed, loud and unstoppable, as the team headed for the jump platform.
The seals were cracking.
The Primordials were watching.
And the patrol—jokes, flirtations, and all—was just getting started.
(Chapter 7 end.) as they