Ne Job: The Intern from Hell — Chapter 104: "The Judgment of Lord Xian"
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The sky above the Foundry split open like a wound.
Columns of divine light pierced the clouds, raining down fragments of glass-script that sang in hollow tones. The Anvil of Echoes still glowed faintly beneath them, a heart of molten resonance pulsing in time with Ne Job's Spark.
And then, through the rift, Lord Xian descended.
Not walking—manifesting.
Each step rewrote the ground beneath him into order: molten chaos cooled into perfect tiles of mirrored law, the air itself folded into symmetrical grids. His robes fluttered without wind, embroidered with every known Bureau code. His eyes burned white with judgment.
"Intern Ne Job," Xian's voice reverberated through the Foundry, calm and absolute. "You were granted existence to file the divine remains of chaos. Instead, you have become its voice."
Ne Job cracked his neck, hands in his pockets. "You know, when you put it like that, I sound kinda cool."
Yue stood beside him, brush drawn, trembling slightly from the pressure radiating off Xian. "Lord Xian, wait—he didn't intend for the fragment to awaken. The system forced the resonance link!"
"The system forced nothing," Xian replied, his tone as sharp as a verdict. "The Anvil recognizes intent, not accident." His gaze shifted to Ne Job. "You wielded chaos. You disrupted containment. You merged divine and mortal law."
"Yeah," Ne Job said dryly. "And yet, somehow, the Bureau still hasn't given me a raise."
Yue shot him a glare. "Not helping."
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Lord Xian extended his hand. The gavel of light floating above the Foundry shifted shape — elongating into a staff, covered in the Shard Court's insignia.
> "By decree of the High Audit, this Foundry and all within are subject to Reclamation. Intern Ne Job, Auditor Yue, surrender your Sparks."
Yue stepped forward instinctively. "You can't—if you do that, the Bureau collapses completely! The fragments are stabilizing reality after the—"
Xian's expression did not change. "Reality will endure. You will not."
Ne Job sighed, rubbing his temples. "And they say I'm the one with anger management issues."
The Spark on his arm flared crimson, reacting to the pressure. The ground vibrated, the Anvil pulsing once more beneath them like a giant heartbeat.
"Lord Xian," Ne Job said, voice lower now. "You saw it, didn't you? What the Bureau was built on."
Xian's gaze flickered—just for a second. "Irrelevant."
"No," Ne Job pressed. "You remember. The erasures, the rebellions, the gods you buried under paperwork. You watched Heaven lie to itself for eternity."
Yue whispered, "Ne Job—stop."
But he didn't. The Spark fed on his words, igniting veins of red light through the Foundry.
"I used to think you were just a heartless boss," Ne Job continued. "Now I realize you're worse. You're the only one who still believes the lie works."
Xian's voice turned thunderous. "Order is truth!"
"And truth isn't your property!"
The air shattered.
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Xian moved first. His staff slammed into the ground, sending out waves of pure law. Every particle of chaos around them froze midair, turned into glass symbols. Yue barely managed to react, painting counter-sigils to redirect the blast.
Ne Job ducked under the shockwave and charged, the Spark blazing across his arm. He slammed his palm against Xian's staff — chaos against order. The collision cracked the air like thunder, creating shock ripples that tore through the forge.
"Still the same intern," Xian said evenly, forcing him back with one effortless sweep. "You fight with rebellion, not purpose."
Ne Job's grin was sharp. "Guess purpose was on lunch break."
Yue's brush moved like lightning, sketching a circle of reinforcement around him. "He's binding the Foundry's law flow! Break his center glyph!"
"On it!"
He leapt, spinning midair, kicking through the sigil above Xian's head. The glyph shattered, sending a burst of divine wind across the forge. For a split second, Xian staggered — not from pain, but surprise.
"You've… adapted."
"Yeah," Ne Job said, landing beside Yue. "Turns out chaos learns fast when bureaucracy takes too long to file its mistakes."
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The battle intensified.
Xian summoned a storm of verdicts — every strike a divine decree written into light. "I sentence you to silence!" "I redact your defiance!" "I nullify your Spark!"
Each word was law made manifest.
Yue countered desperately, rewriting the declarations midair: "Silence becomes reflection!" "Defiance becomes reform!" "Nullification becomes renewal!"
Her brush flicked, her voice steady even as her arms trembled. The two of them fought not just Xian, but the weight of Heaven's grammar itself.
Ne Job, breathing hard, looked up through the dust. "Yue," he said, "I think I get it now."
She didn't look at him. "Get what?"
"This whole time… the Bureau wasn't the cage. It was the script. And every one of us's been reading it wrong."
Then he laughed — softly, almost in awe. "Time to edit."
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The Chaos Spark erupted.
It wasn't violent this time — it was beautiful. A red-gold wave spread through the Foundry, turning the air into shimmering fragments of mixed law. The Anvil of Echoes responded, glowing white-hot.
Ne Job's voice rang through the chaos, echoing like a rewritten decree:
> "Rebirth is not control. Rebirth is correction!"
The Anvil struck itself, a single, thunderous sound that reverberated through the dimensions.
Xian froze, his staff trembling. Cracks spread across its surface, leaking light. "What—have you done?"
Ne Job looked up, eyes burning with Sparklight. "Taught your system to dream."
The entire Foundry shifted. Law and chaos merged — equations rewriting themselves into paradoxes, paradoxes into new rules. The gavel above dissolved into radiant ash.
Xian lowered his head, his perfect composure finally breaking. "You cannot imagine what you've undone."
Yue stepped forward, exhausted but firm. "Maybe he doesn't have to imagine. Maybe he just lives it."
For the first time, Lord Xian smiled — faintly, bitterly. "Then I pray he survives the correction he's unleashed."
The light around him fractured. His body dissolved into glyphs, scattering like torn verdicts in a storm.
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The Foundry fell silent.
Only the rhythmic pulse of the Anvil remained.
Yue lowered her brush, hands shaking. "He's gone."
Ne Job stared up at the rift where Xian had vanished. "No," he said quietly. "He's watching. Waiting to see if I fix the mess."
She turned toward him, her voice soft but sharp. "You changed the Bureau's law structure, Ne Job. Nothing is stable anymore. You've turned reality into… a draft."
He smiled faintly. "Good. Means I can still edit it."
Yue exhaled — half a sigh, half a laugh. "You're insufferable."
He looked at her, eyes glowing with the Spark. "And you're still here."
For a moment, amid the smoking ruins of the Foundry, they stood in silence — two divine fugitives at the edge of Heaven's blueprint, surrounded by the hum of a world rewriting itself.
Then the Anvil's pulse quickened again, flashing new sigils across its surface — a message neither of them could yet read.
Yue frowned. "What is it?"
Ne Job stared into the light. "…A summons."
"To where?"
He grinned tiredly. "The next department, apparently. The Bureau of Forgotten Gods."