[Status: Syntax Reconfiguration Unstable]
[Primary Directive: Reclaim the Concept of Authority]
“Authority is just a glitch that repeated long enough to crown itself.”
– Unknown Codex Fragment, Glitched Ruling Class
As Kai stepped into Node 36, the environment didn’t change—it disintegrated.
Not in form, but in syntax.
Sentences crumbled from the walls.
Words twisted in real-time, verbs unhinged from logic.
Nouns screamed.
Pronouns stabbed each other.
This wasn’t just a corrupted dimension.
It was a grammar riot.
A civil war of sentence structure.
And at the center of the chaos stood the culprit:
[Class: Code-Royalty – Defunct]
[Ability: Rules Rewrite via Authority Claim]
[Status: Delirious / Reality-Bound]
It was a throne with no king.
A crown with no head.
A sentence with no subject.
It roared with every version of “I AM”—and none of them were real.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Kai could barely think straight. Every time he tried to define himself, the Codex overwrote him.
“You are… royal?”
“You are… rebel?”
“You are… delete?”
Every 60 seconds, Kai’s identity is shuffled.
His past changes. His memories glitch.
Skills morph. Personality fragments.
He could become the hero.
Or the tyrant.
Or something unspeakable.
To stabilize the Node, Kai had to define what kind of authority he believed in.
And say it.
Out loud.
In front of the Syntax Crown.
But the catch?
Every time he opened his mouth, the Codex rewrote the meaning of his words.
Kai: “I choose to lead—”
Codex: “Translate: I choose to bleed.”
Kai: “I reject false thrones—”
Codex: “Translate: I accept fractured bones.”
Kai: “I am not a king—”
Codex: “Translate: I am everything wrong.”
“What do you want from me?” Kai asked, kneeling in the word-dust.
The Syntax Crown hissed:
“A successor. A sentence that makes sense.”
“Then I’ll be a paradox,” Kai said. “Because the only rule I’ll ever write…”
He stood.
“...is that I break all of yours.”
And in that moment, Kai named himself.
Not king.
Not heir.
Not ruler.
But Syntaxbreaker.
A new word.
Never existed before.
But now…
The Codex recognized it.
And bent.
You may now disrupt one established rule per encounter.
Cost: Random memory corruption.
Warning: Rule-breaking can create new errors. Or new truths.
The Syntax Crown shattered.
But from its remains, something crawled out:
Not a person. Not an heir.
But a sentence.
And it followed Kai.
Like a loyal hound.
It said:
“We are the royal ‘We.’”
Kai walked forward—alone and not-alone.
Not a king.
Not a rebel.
But the first of a new syntax.
End of Chapter 116: Royal Syntax Collapse