Ne Job: The Intern from Hell — Chapter 131: "The Intern Who Rewrote Heaven"
There was no sky anymore. Only parchment stretched into infinity—writhing, folding, burning.
Every breath Ne Job took turned the space around him into paragraphs. His thoughts wrote themselves across the air.
Yue hovered near him, her manual now half-melted, its pages bleeding light. "Ne Job, the Audit's collapsing in on itself! Every law they ever wrote is unraveling—Clause One through Infinity!"
Ne Job gritted his teeth. "Good. Maybe it's about time Heaven got a rewrite."
The auditor's voice thundered like thunder trapped inside a filing cabinet.
> "Unauthorized entity attempting reformation of divine framework. Cease or be nullified."
Its quill split into thousands, stabbing down from every direction like judgment itself. But Ne Job moved first. The Chaos Spark exploded, not in light, but in ink. Every failed form, every botched request, every petty rejection he'd ever processed burst outward—swarming around him in defiance.
"Try deleting me again!" he shouted, twisting the ink into a spiral. "You'll just get more paperwork!"
The quills hit—but each impact became a stamped rejection form. DENIED. DENIED. DENIED.
Ne Job laughed like a mad god. "See that, Yue? I'm finally getting things approved!"
Yue shielded her eyes from the storm. "You're burning your Spark too fast—stop before it consumes your identity!"
But Ne Job was already fading, his silhouette flickering between human, signature, and living form code. The seal of Lord Bureaucrat Xian pulsed above them, trembling as if waiting to be rewritten.
The auditor advanced again, its mask distorting. "Only the Creator may amend the Founding Seal."
Ne Job smirked. "Guess what, buddy—I interned under him."
He lunged upward, pen-first. The world cracked into ribbons of gold and black as his tip pierced the divine signature.
A shockwave spread, erasing the auditor, the dead archive, and the entire Audit Dimension—replacing them with a blinding white void.
Yue's voice echoed faintly. "Ne Job—what are you doing?!"
"Finishing my report," he said, floating amid the collapsing laws. "All this time, I thought my job was to file what's broken. Turns out, it's to break what's filed."
He drew one final line across the air, forming a new sentence on the divine parchment:
> Clause Zero: Even gods must answer for unfinished work.
The seal flared. The entire Bureau shuddered as reality recompiled. The air filled with fluttering documents—half-burned, half-born anew.
Then, silence.
When Yue opened her eyes, she found herself standing back in the Bureau's central atrium. Everything was eerily still. The walls were cracked but glowing faintly, as though the system had rebooted on a heartbeat instead of a clock.
Ne Job lay on the floor, his uniform half-singed, surrounded by a faint shimmer of light. His pen was still in his hand, but the ink within glowed pure white.
"Ne Job?" she whispered, kneeling beside him.
His eyes opened slowly. "Hey… did we pass the audit?"
Yue exhaled—half a laugh, half a sob. "You didn't pass. You rewrote it."
From above, a soft hum echoed—the sound of a new Bureau forming. The sky was now lined with living paper, flowing with both order and chaos.
And across the heavens, written in a childlike scrawl, appeared a single line:
> "Pending Review: Ne Job — Status: Undefined."
Ne Job smiled faintly. "Undefined, huh? I'll take it."
He leaned back, staring at the reshaped Bureau sky. "Now that's what I call… creative filing."
Yue smacked his arm. "Don't ever do that again."
"Can't promise that," he said. "It's in my job description."
The camera of existence panned out—showing the Bureau reborn in impossible geometry, both divine and absurd, order and chaos dancing in perfect contradiction.
And at its center, the intern who broke the laws of Heaven yawned, reached for his coffee, and said:
"Now, about my overtime pay…"
End of Chapter 131 — The Audit Arc Complete.