The fused Dark God was still speaking—
when it vanished.
No warning.
No resistance.
No afterimage.
One moment it occupied all of existence.
The next—
it was as if it had never been called.
Brush's pause lifted instantly.
The pressure disappeared.
The void stabilized.
Something else had taken priority.
A single sound echoed through the Dark Web.
Not a roar.
Not a command.
A familiar, endlessly looping tone.
Next episode will begin shortly.
Static rolled across reality.
The Dark Gods were gone.
Not defeated.
Not erased.
Removed from the runtime.
Brush turned.
At the center of the collapsing domain, Crunchyroller emerged.
But not as the colossal cylinder of compressed clips.
Not as the rolling archive.
She stepped forward—
human-shaped.
Tall.
Composed.
Her form shimmered with layered animation frames—outlines redrawing themselves every second, eyes reflecting a thousand paused scenes at once.
Her hair flowed like buffering timelines.
Her gaze never blinked.
"That's enough," she said calmly.
Her voice wasn't loud—
but it overrode the Dark Web's background noise entirely.
Brush felt it instantly.
Not power.
Priority.
"You let the Dark Gods run because they were useful," Brush said.
Crunchyroller smiled faintly.
"Correct."
She looked at the space where the fused god had been.
"They create universes."
"They delete universes."
She met Brush's eyes.
"I decide which ones are allowed to be seen."
The implication hit harder than any attack.
"You didn't stop them because you couldn't," Brush said.
"You stopped them because they were off-script."
Crunchyroller nodded.
"They were escalating beyond engagement metrics."
Reality around her subtly compressed, as if being optimized.
"Fusion threatens pacing," she continued.
"Instant deletion ruins retention."
Brush felt something cold settle in his chest.
"So what am I to you?" he asked.
Crunchyroller tilted her head.
Her eyes flickered—millions of thumbnails flashing in a fraction of a second.
"An anomaly," she said honestly.
"An unscheduled hit."
"A being audiences cannot stop watching."
The Dark Web trembled—not in fear—
but in recognition.
Crunchyroller stepped closer.
"The Dark Gods create and erase universes," she said.
"But I decide which realities get remembered."
She raised her hand.
Every domain—past, present, unfinished—paused.
"And you, Brush D. Rush…"
She smiled.
Not cruel.
Not kind.
Professional.
"…are bad for the algorithm."
⚠️ SYSTEM STATUS UPDATE
DARK GODS: TEMPORARILY DE-INDEXED
CRUNCHYROLLER: ACTIVE ADMINISTRATOR FORM
THREAT TYPE: NARRATIVE AUTHORITY