The cafeteria had somehow become their office.
Neither of them had agreed to that, but after enough late-night conversations, stolen coffee, and arguments about whether reality itself should be considered badly designed, the place had naturally evolved into neutral territory.
Robert sat on top of the table instead of using the chair like a civilized person, one leg hanging lazily while the other rested on the seat. Across from him, Steven looked like a man who had realized too late that friendship with Rob was a contractual trap.
Which, to be fair, it probably was.
Steven stared at the notebook in front of Rob.
A completely normal notebook.
Which was concerning.
Because when Rob used normal objects, it usually meant he was about to do something deeply abnormal.
Steven narrowed his eyes.
"I don't like that notebook."
Rob didn't even look up.
"You turned SCP-173's containment chamber into a joke using a red button."
Rob said nothing. Which somehow felt worse.
"You added a label that said 'Do Not Press Unless Bored.'"
Steven rubbed his face.
"That is not how containment works."
Rob finally looked up.
"And yet, morale improved."
Steven decided, for the sake of his remaining sanity, to move the conversation forward
"So," he said, leaning forward, "this cosmic butler idea."
Rob nodded seriously.
"Yes. My greatest contribution to civilization."
Steven sighed.
"Explain."
Rob closed the notebook dramatically.
"Every world has terrible management."
"That sounds like a villain speech."
"That's because villains are often the only competent administrators."
Steven paused.
"…unfortunately, that is not entirely wrong."
Rob pointed at him like a professor pleased with a student.
"Now. Every world insists its own nonsense is the correct nonsense."
He started counting with his fingers.
"Cultivators think everything can be solved with meditation and murder."
"Mages believe drawing enough circles makes them morally superior."
"Hunters monetize monster invasions."
"So. I need standardization."
Steven leaned back.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning if some old man tells me he is a Seventh Heaven Golden Divine Celestial Dragon Emperor Ancestor of Nine Tribulations, I need to know if I should respect him or hit him with a chair."
"…Okay, then what?."
Rob turned the notebook so Steven could see it.
At the top of the page, in very clean handwriting, was written:
REALMS
Below it, five numbers.
Steven blinked.
"You actually organized it."
Rob looked at him, then at the notes
"Let's start simple"
Steven nodded.
"Good. Because if you start explaining seventy-two cultivation stages, I'm leaving."
"... You know, thats not even a joke, in some cultivation worlds there are that many realms"
"..."
Rob pointed at the first line.
"Realm One. Mortal."
Steven nodded.
"Easy enough."
"Normal people. Farmers. office workers. Bureaucrats. Their greatest enemy is taxes."
"That last one sounds personal."
Second line.
"Awakened."
"Enhanced humans?"
"Exactly. Peak humans. Minor superhumans. Early cultivators. Low anomalous individuals. Strong enough to matter, weak enough to still die stupidly."
Steven pointed.
"That sounds like me."
"That sounds almost like you, have you learned cultivation or magic?"
"...No"
"Have you exercised to the human limit?"
"...No"
"Then you are painfully Tier One."
"..."
Steven chose not to argue because unfortunately it was true.
Third line.
"Ascended."
Rob's tone shifted slightly.
"This is where the mortal limit starts breaking. People stop being merely talented and start becoming genuinely dangerous. Golden Core cultivators. Advanced mages. S rank hunters. Real monsters by normal standards."
Steven nodded slowly.
"People who make governments nervous."
"Correct."
Fourth.
"Transcendent."
Now Rob's expression sharpened.
"This is where normal logic begins filing complaints."
Steven laughed quietly.
"That's a good description."
"They surpass mortal limitations completely. Nascent Soul cultivators. high-end archmages. Ancient Vampires. Disasters walking on the world"
Steven looked at the word for a moment.
"Transcendent sounds dramatic."
"It should. If someone can kill you by blinking incorrectly, drama is appropriate."
Then Rob tapped the fifth.
"Exalted."
He paused.
"This is where demi-divinity starts. Gods, or things close enough that the distinction becomes academic."
Steven frowned.
"And above that?"
Rob closed the notebook.
"Later."
"That means there are more."
"There are always more. That is how fantasy authors pay rent."
Steven leaned back.
"That actually makes sense."
There was a brief silence.
Then Steven pointed at the paper.
"We have a Problem."
"There are many."
"No, specifically this one. Realm doesn't explain enough."
Rob smiled.
"Excellent. You're learning."
Steven frowned.
Rob ignored him.
"Exactly. Realms define status. They do not define outcome."
He leaned forward.
"A weak-looking old man with a cursed sword might kill a mountain-breaking cultivator."
Steven nodded immediately.
He wrote two letters.
RW.
Steven stared intently but confused
"…what is that?"
Rob sat back.
"Reality Weight."
Steven blinked.
Rob tapped the letters.
"Not all beings exist equally."
That made Steven stop joking.
Rob continued.
"A normal human and something like SCP-096 are not simply separated by strength. They exist differently."
Steven slowly nodded.
"I understand that."
"No. You understand it emotionally. I need you to actually understand it."
He pointed with the pen.
"Some entities are harder to affect because they are stronger. Others are harder to affect because reality itself treats them as heavier."
Steven stayed quiet.
Rob continued.
"Think of certain SCPs. Why do some normal solutions fail? Why do some anomalies simply ignore conventional logic?"
"Because they're anomalies."
"That is not an explanation. That is surrender."
Steven sighed.
"…continue."
"Reality Weight measures existential dominance."
He started listing.
"RW0. Baseline. Normal existence."
"Humans."
"Yes."
"RW1. Enhanced. Slightly above normal."
"Low anomalies?"
"Correct."
"RW2. Resistant anomalous. Harder to affect."
Rob pointed.
He continued.
"RW3. Superior Entity. This is where normal people stop mattering. Strong cultivators. Monsters. SCPs like 096."
Steven raised a hand.
"Wait. Why is 096 only RW3? That thing feels way worse than that."
Rob nodded.
"Because danger and Reality Weight are not the same thing."
Steven frowned.
"…What do you mean?"
"096 is terrifying because of how its ability works, not because it exists on some divine cosmic level."
He tapped the table.
"Reality Weight measures how 'heavy' your existence is. How difficult reality itself finds it to affect you."
Steven nodded slowly.
"And 096?"
"096 is dangerous because of Authority."
"Which means?"
Rob leaned back.
"It follows an absolute rule."
He raised one finger.
"You see its face."
A second finger.
"It kills you."
Steven crossed his arms.
"So its problem isn't being stronger."
"Correct."
"It's that reality itself supports its violence."
Rob pointed at him.
"Excellent. You're becoming slightly less disappointing."
Steven ignored that.
"So if something has higher RW…"
"Then that rule can start failing."
Steven blinked.
"…Seriously?"
"Very seriously. If something with sufficiently higher Reality Weight looks at 096, the rule itself can stop applying properly."
Silence.
Steven stared for a while.
"That feels unfair."
Rob nodded once.
"Reality is extremely classist."
Rob ignored him.
"RW4. Universal Tier. Beings that naturally dominate lower existences. Divine thresholds."
"And above that?"
Rob smiled again.
"The point where meetings with them should be declined politely."
"Now. Quiz time."
Steven immediately looked suspicious.
"That never ends well."
"If a cultivator with RW3 looks at SCP-096's face, what happens?"
Steven frowned.
"…He dies horribly?"
Rob nodded.
"Exactly."
Rob crossed his arms.
"Now—same situation, but the cultivator is RW5."
Steven paused.
"…He fights back?"
"Maybe."
"Or maybe he still dies?"
"No."
Rob leaned forward.
"At that point, if 096 is RW3 and the cultivator is RW5, then the rule itself starts failing."
"Meaning he could look directly at 096 and, if he chose to, absolutely nothing would happen."
Silence.
Steven stared.
"…Seriously?"
Rob nodded.
"Because higher Reality Weight creates natural superiority."
He pointed with the pen.
"096's rule still exists. But it no longer applies properly."
Steven thought for a moment.
"Because the cultivator is… more real?"
Rob smiled.
"Exactly."
He leaned back.
"To lower beings, it looks like immunity. To reality, it's just hierarchy."
Steven looked at him for a long moment.
"You've thought about this way too much."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Rob looked genuinely offended.
"Because it makes things easier."
"Alright. I admit this is useful. But if you're building an actual system around this, there's another problem."
Rob narrowed his eyes.
"What is it?"
"The system itself."
Steven pointed at the notebook.
"Does it think?"
Silence.
Rob stared.
Steven stared back.
Then Rob said:
"Oh no."
"That means yes."
Steven folded his arms.
Rob stood up and started pacing.
"If it's fully robotic, it becomes efficient but boring."
Steven nodded.
"And if it thinks?"
"It becomes useful but dangerous."
Steven watched him pace like a man debating whether to invent philosophy or tax fraud.
Finally Rob stopped.
"No. It has to think."
Steven sighed.
"I knew you'd say that."
"It needs judgment. Adaptation. Sarcasm."
"Why sarcasm?"
"Because I refuse to be the only intelligent person in the room."
"That is deeply arrogant."
"That is deeply certain"
Steven rubbed his face again.
"What personality?"
Rob answered immediately.
"Butler."
"…what?"
"A proper one. Respectful, elegant, calm. Perfect manners."
Steven blinked.
"That sounds normal."
Rob smiled.
"With my sarcasm."
Steven stared.
"That sounds like a war crime."
"Correct."
He sat down again and wrote a single word.
GUIDE
Steven looked at it.
"That's the name?"
"Yes."
"That is the least creative thing you have ever done."
"I know."
"Its gonna hate its name"
"It is elegant."
"It is lazy pretending to be elegant."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then the lights above them flickered.
...
Steven immediately sat up.
"…Rob."
"Yes?"
"Did you do that?"
"Probably."
"That is not comforting."
The notebook on the table began glowing faintly.
Steven stood up.
"I would like to officially state I dislike this process.... also, why its the notebook floating"
"Your complaint has been filed and sent to Bright."
"... Are you really sending him complains?"
"Yeah, they appear on his office"
"...I pity him"
Then it happened
The cafeteria air changed.
A strange pressure
The glow sharpened.
The notebook dissapeared and in its place is now a floating screen
[Initialization in progress.]
Steven stared.
[Foundational framework accepted.]
[Primary Administrator recognized.]
Steven slowly turned toward Rob.
"You called yourself Primary Administrator."
"I have standards."
[Secondary Contributor recognized.]
Steven looked relieved.
"Oh. That's not too bad."
[Secondary Contributor status: Questionable.]
Rob immediately burst into laughter.
Steven looked at the floating screen
"I hate it already."
"Excellent. It's learning."
The words shifted.
[Designation required.]
Rob straightened.
"Guide."
A pause.
Then:
[Designation accepted.]
[Good evening, Administrator.]
Steven stared.
It was somehow worse because it was polite.
Rob smiled.
"Good evening, Guide."
[Secondary Contributor appears physically fragile.]
Steven nearly choked.
Rob looked proud.
"It's perfect."
Steven pointed.
"No. Absolutely not."
[Observation, not insult.]
"That is definitely an insult."
[Correction accepted.]
Steven sat back down slowly, staring at the floating screen like it had personally betrayed him.
Rob leaned forward, far too pleased.
"Wonderful. First task."
Steven immediately objected.
"No."
"Yes."
Steven just stared at him.
Rob took that as agreement.
"Excellent."
He pointed.
"Analyze Steven."
Steven closed his eyes.
"I want better friends."
The floating screene glowed
A pause.
Then:
[Analyzing…]
[Name: Steven | SCP-507]
[Realm: Mortal–Awakened Borderline]
[Classification: Pathetically Human]
Steven opened one eye.
"…excuse me?"
Rob was already laughing too hard to breathe.
The system continued.
[Type: Hybrid]
[Physical + AR (Absolute Rule)]
[Reality Weight: RW2]
[Mildly inconvenient to contain.]
[Survival probability: depends entirely on where reality throws him next.]
There was silence.
Steven stared at the screen
Then at Rob.
Then back at the screen
And for the first time in years—
he laughed.
A real one.
Because honestly?
It was accurate.
And maybe, just maybe—
if the multiverse insisted on being absurd,
having a sarcastic cosmic butler to judge it with wasn't the worst idea Rob had ever had.
After a good laugh, Steven 'Looked' at what supossed to be guide, the floating screen
"Hey, guide, analyze Rob"
"?" Rob looked intrigued
[...]
[...]
[Access denied]
[Self-referential analysis exceeds current framework.]
[Recommendation: Do not ask again.]
"... Thats it?"
Steven doesnt know what to say
"Why does your system cant analyze you?"
"Maybe its not complete enough"
Rob stayed quiet for a moment.
Then, like he had just remembered something—
"Oh. Right. Take this."
With a wave, Steven saw an identical window floating in front of him
"Mine?"
"Yeah, its like an extension of the main body, can also travel with you."
Rob continued, this time with less sarcasm than usual.
"Maybe this time you will have a better chance at the world. Who knows, maybe you could even try to learn magic with its help instead of running for your life"
"…How exactly? It's literally just an analyzer."
Rob looked like a parent to a dissapointing child.
"Think buddy, think."
He pointed at the floating screen.
"Analyze everything. People. Places. Power systems. If luck stops hating you for five minutes and you find a magical book, a cultivation manual, some cursed artifact—anything—you use that."
Steven slowly nodded.
"... That makes sense"
Steven looked at the system screen
It wasn't just a tool anymore.
It answered back.
It had opinions. A voice, a personality.
Something that would answer back.
And for someone like him—
Someone who disappeared from one world to another without warning
That meant more than he expected.
Maybe… Maybe from now on,
when reality decided to throw him somewhere unknown,
he would not be arriving completely alone.
For the first time in a long while,
that thought felt… nice.
And for once,
the future didn't feel like a threat.