The Creator God, Gojo, stood triumphantly, arms crossed, basking in the brilliance of his own deception. The MCs had fallen for it. They had left. His genius lie had worked.
Now, it was finally time to open the dimensional gate to Earth and begin his long-awaited revenge campaign against the Narrator.
He grinned. Everything was going according to plan.
Until—
He felt it.
That unsettling, prickling sensation.
That horrible, skin-crawling feeling that something was very, very wrong.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head.
And there, standing behind him, arms crossed, an unimpressed glare on her face—
Subaki.
Not just anyone. Not just a random background extra.
Subaki.
The Narrator's younger sister.
The same Subaki who had suffered through every single chaotic disaster her brother caused.
The same Subaki who had taken the full hell for him during the war.
The same Subaki who had been waiting for the chance to get to him first.
And right now?
She was staring.
Expressionless.
Unmoving.
Processing.
She had heard everything.
Gojo's mind short-circuited.
For a brief, fleeting second, he thought, maybe she didn't hear it all…
Then he saw her face.
That was the face of someone who had heard everything.
That was the face of someone who was about to ask too many questions.
That was the face of someone who was about to make his life difficult.
And Gojo panicked.
Tactical Retreat: Gojo Edition
He had only seconds to react.
His first thought? Run.
His second thought? Oh wait, I'm the Creator God. I don't need to run.
His third thought? She's gonna make this complicated.
And Gojo? Did not like complications.
So, in the ultimate act of divine panic, he did the only logical thing a god could do in this situation.
He grabbed Subaki by the collar, yanked open a dimensional rift, and jumped through it.
The "Godly" Temple… Or Not.
When Subaki finally regained her balance, she expected to be in some kind of majestic celestial realm.
Instead, she was standing in a tiny, rundown comfort room.
The walls? Cracked.
The furniture? Mismatched.
The air? Smelled like instant ramen and regret.
She turned slowly, taking it all in.
A fridge covered in expired coupons.
A pile of unfinished ramen cups stacked like a monument to bad life choices.
A single chair overflowing with anime figurines.
This was not a godly temple.
This was a trashy bachelor pad.
This was a disaster.
She turned to Gojo.
The Almighty Creator God.
The Supreme Being.
The one worshipped across dimensions.
Right now?
He looked like someone who couldn't afford rent.
He wasn't standing in golden robes—he was in sweatpants and a hoodie.
He wasn't radiating divine light—he was rubbing his eyes like he had just woken up from a ten-hour gaming session.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, finally—
Subaki squinted.
"…This is your Godly Temple?"
Gojo coughed.
"It's, uh… one of them."
Subaki crossed her arms.
"It's a dump."
Gojo rubbed his temples like a stressed-out salaryman.
"Look, I didn't bring you here for a house tour. You were about to expose me."
Subaki leaned against the broken fridge.
"So, what now? You gonna bribe me? Threaten me?"
Gojo paused. Thought for a second. Then, he smirked.
"Wanna help me troll the Narrator?"
Silence.
Subaki raised an eyebrow.
"Excuse me?"
Gojo leaned forward, grinning.
"C'mon. Imagine it. Your brother spent his whole life messing with reality, speedrunning wars, ruining power systems, and abandoning his problems."
He gestured around dramatically.
"And now? He's living on Earth. In peace. No consequences. No suffering. Just chilling, watching anime, and trolling people online like none of this ever happened."
Subaki narrowed her eyes.
"And?"
Gojo's grin widened.
"And I think it's time he suffered."
Subaki stared.
She thought about it.
She thought about everything she had been through because of her brother.
She thought about every single mess he left her to deal with.
And then—
A slow, wicked smirk formed on her face.
"…What's the plan?"
And just like that, the first recruit in Gojo's troll army was born.