The MC floated high above, facing the moon, his figure silhouetted against its bright, piercing light that broke through the clouds and bathed the land below. His arms stretched wide, as if he were embracing the moonlight, soaking in its glow. A sharp grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with focus, like he had just uncovered the most brilliant, world-shattering idea.
But alas, it was just a lousy idea—a stupid plan to use moonlight to power Rade. Even a child could have guessed that. But what can we say? To top it all off, he's striking a pose, as if he's more calculative than Aizen. Really? Meh. We'll leave him to his delusions.
The MC, basking in his imagined brilliance, smirked as he floated back toward the cells. His excitement was palpable, even as he exaggeratedly adjusted his hair, still convinced of his own genius. But as he began scanning the room for windows—searching high and low, left and right, across the walls and the ceilings—his smirk slowly faded.
First, he floated to the left. Nothing.
Then to the right. Nothing.
He checked the ceiling, his eyes darting, but no moonlight. Nothing.
Finally, his expression turned grim as realization dawned—there were no windows. No way for the moonlight to penetrate. No f*ing windows. The cells were underground, with just the barest amount of space between the ceiling and the ground above.
The MC floated there, motionless for a second, his face slowly twisting into a grotesque expression of disbelief.
MC: "Nani?!!"
Yes. He actually said it. With a goofy face so exaggerated that he looked like he was having... constipation. Yikes.
The MC's face contorted further, almost painful to look at, before he burst out, yelling into the void, "WHY?! Just why?!!" His hands shot to his face, dragging down his skin, eyes bulging, nerves twitching with fury. "Tell me! You piece of shit!" He pointed a shaking finger upward, screaming at the sky, at whoever was responsible for this mess. "Yeah, YOU!" he howled, his voice cracking. "Tell me right now what your problem is, huh? Why do you want to make me suffer like this? Did I steal your girlfriend or something? Your whore of a—"
Oh boy. He's tearing straight through the fourth wall, pointing his finger at... well, me. The Author. But I'm good-hearted, so I'll let his little transgression slide this time.
The MC, not caring, kept shouting, "You eunuch! You virgin! You...!"
Narrator: Okay, now he's getting personal... coughs awkwardly
His tirade continued, but this time it came out censored—each curse followed by a drawn-out bleep that was more comedic than effective. "You ____! You useless, ____ing _____!"
After a while, he was panting, his breath coming out in shaky gasps. Huff... huff... He was bent over, hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. For a brief moment, it seemed like he might finally be done, but... no. The second he caught his breath, he started up again.
"You—" The words failed to escape as his breathing faltered.
He just doesn't know when to stop, does he?
Again, he cursed, and again he collapsed, totally exhausted. The air around him was still as he regained his composure. He stared blankly ahead, his mind clearly fried from all the yelling.
But then, like magic, a bright ding filled the air, and a system screen popped up in front of him:
Plot Armor Genius Activated
The MC blinked, his brain spinning at lightning speed, ideas flashing through his mind like Thor's hammer striking the ground. It was as if some divine force had finally taken pity on him and shoved a single, sensible idea into his head, just to stop his whining.
"Wait a minute..." His eyes gleamed as the realization hit him. "If time is stopped..." he murmured, his voice tinged with glee. "Nothing moves. Nothing happens." He thought for a moment, then smirked again. "Which means I have unlimited time." He whispered the words like they were a precious secret.
Ah yes, the loophole in time freeze. It's a skill exclusive to Plot Armor Agency employees, meant for adding 'masterpieces' to the plot. Or in this case, helping this idiot figure out a basic idea.
With renewed energy, the MC floated around the cells, his mind buzzing with excitement. "What do we do now? Hmm..." he muttered to himself. "I've got all the time I need..."
He drifted toward the chains again, studying them. "These... they're tough." His eyes moved to the walls. "But what if..."
He floated higher, examining the stone walls just outside the cells, measuring the distance between the ceiling and the ground above. His eyes lit up. "If I break the wall here..." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "The moonlight will hit the cells."
The wall was made of solid stone, not mud or wood. It was strong. But the MC, grinning like a madman, simply shrugged.
"So what?" he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "I've got all the time in the world."
His smirk widened, his eyes narrowing in delight as he prepared to break through the wall. "This is going to be fun."
Here we go again... Let's hope he doesn't mess this up too.
A few weeks had passed. It was still night, the full moon hung high in the sky, glowing like a radiant jewel and casting its pale light across the frozen land. Time had been stopped for so long that the world itself seemed trapped in a never-ending twilight.
But where was our MC?
Where had he gone? Surely, he was busy working on breaking that wall, right? Right?
Ah, there he is...
Wait... WHAT?!
Narrator: WTF!!... Ahem... language... please.
The MC was lying on the ground... naked. Yeah, you heard that right. Naked. And not just lying around—he was... jerking off. His hands were busy, and his eyes were fixed on something in the frozen world. But what could possibly hold his attention in a world stuck in time?
Oh no... oh no no no...
As the scene shifted, it became clear what he was watching—a pair of dogs, mid-hump, frozen in time. Stuck in the middle of their... interaction. And there was the MC, grinning to himself, using this bizarre scene as... fap material.
Narrator: Excuse me, I— vomits loudly
I'm sorry, I need a moment...
Huff... huff... Okay, I apologize for the unprofessionalism.
The MC, without a care in the world, was using the sight of two frozen dogs in heat as his... entertainment. It was truly baffling, the depths to which this man had sunk. After finishing whatever bizarre ritual this was, he stretched, as if satisfied with his day's "work." The world was still stopped, the moon still shining above, and the MC?
Well, the MC casually strolled back toward the wall he was supposed to be breaking.
Finally, you might think, he's getting back to work.
But wait, what's that?
The ground was littered with broken bricks. Pieces of the wall that had been chipped away over who-knows-how-many days of MC's strange routine. He lazily walked past them, waving at a random frog stuck in mid-hop.
"Hey, Mr. Drogy!" the MC called out, winking and pointing finger-guns at the amphibian. "How's it going today? Same old, huh? Yeah, me too. Well, don't let Mrs. Droggy give you any trouble. We've all got work to do!"
He strutted past the frog, swinging his naked hips with a confidence that was... unsettling.
Has he lost his mind? Is he high? Who gave him cheap meth? Did someone switch genres on us?!
The MC moved with a strange, exaggerated swagger, as though he were on his way to meet a lover. His every movement was painfully over-the-top, his naked butt shaking as he walked like he was some kind of peacock showing off.
Eventually, he reached the wall—the one he'd been working on for weeks. The damage was already substantial, with pieces of stone scattered around, but the wall still stood strong, holding back the moonlight.
The MC bent down, picking up one of the loose bricks as if it were the most precious thing in the world. His hands caressed the brick like it was his long-lost love, and with a wide, demented grin, he turned toward the wall.
He moved closer, holding the brick high over his head.
"You... motherfucking... piece... of... SHIT!" he screamed, smashing the brick into the wall with each word. "Die! You... worthless... WHORE!"
Each stomp sent pieces of the wall crumbling down, dust and debris scattering across the floor. He yelled louder with every blow, forcing each word out like it was the final, most important message of his life.
After what felt like hours of manic brick-smashing, the wall finally began to give. A few more well-placed strikes, and part of it collapsed inward, the moonlight streaming in through the broken gap.
The MC stopped, breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell with exhaustion, but his face? His face was plastered with a grin of pure satisfaction, as if he had just completed some masterpiece.
"Sigh... good job, team," he said, as if he was working in an office. He wiped his brow with exaggerated relief, turning around as if everything was routine.
He started to walk away, casually brushing dust off his shoulders, and for a brief moment, it seemed like he had truly lost all grip on reality. Maybe he'd been repeating this bizarre ritual for too long. Maybe being stuck in time had broken him.
But this time, something was different.
The MC, after his exaggerated sigh of satisfaction, dusted off his hands as if he'd just finished a hard day's work at some office. "Well, good job, team," he muttered to himself, completely absorbed in his strange little world. With a casual wave of his hand, he started walking back along the same path he'd taken before, retracing his steps with the same obnoxious swagger, still buck-naked.
As he passed by the frog, now frozen in time mid-hop, the MC winked and pointed finger-guns at it again. "Ohh, Mr. Droggy! Still pulling the night shift, huh? Remember what I told you—don't overwork yourself. Gotta keep that froggy health up, you know?"
The frog, of course, didn't move—forever stuck in its timeless pose, but the MC acted as if the frog had nodded back in understanding. He strutted away, still mumbling to himself.
He reached the spot where he'd been lying before, plopping himself down with the same lazy ass as always. For a moment, he rested, staring at the wall he had been bashing for what felt like months. Every day, every time he walked this same path, he would pick up a rock or a brick, throw a few curses, and then go right back to this bizarre cycle.
This time, though, something felt different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but as he stood up to stretch, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders, he felt something stir deep inside him.
"Today feels... different," he said to himself, an uncharacteristic glint of hope flickering in his eyes. "Maybe today's the day." He waved at the frog again. "Wish me luck, Mr. Droggy! I'm feeling lucky today. Don't wait up for me, okay?"
With renewed vigor, the MC picked up a rock, giving it a quick once-over as if appraising its worth. "You... piece of... fucking... shit!" he yelled, hurling the rock at the same worn spot on the wall. The stone hit with a dull thud, sending small bits of dust falling to the floor.
He picked up another rock, his expression now twisted with frustration. "You... motherfucking... whore!" he bellowed, smashing the rock into the same spot. Again, more dust. A small crack began to form.
The MC's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in satisfaction. He picked up a third rock, grinning now, feeling the pressure build inside him. "Die, you stupid... brick-faced... piece of—"
He stomped the rock into the crack with all his might, and this time, the crack widened, spidering across the stone surface. The sound echoed through the stillness of the dungeon, following every hit.
For a moment, the MC froze. His hand lingered in the air, a mixture of disbelief and excitement on his face. It cracked... He stood there, staring at the wall, waiting for it to crumble completely. But then...
Nothing.
The crack was small. It hadn't given way fully yet. The wall still stood.
The MC, dumbfounded, just blinked. He stood there for a moment, his fingers still gripping the rock, his eyes locked on the tiny fracture in the wall.
"... Seriously?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. His eye twitched as the frustration bubbled back up. "You... piece of SHIT!"
He stomped again, harder this time, his rage exploding into each hit. The crack widened a little more, stone splintering just slightly. It was so close—so infuriatingly close.
But then, with a final grunt, he tossed the rock aside and sat back down, completely spent. His naked body slumped against the cold stone floor, utterly defeated.
"Well... fuck you, too," he muttered under his breath, running his hand through his hair.
And then, as if nothing had happened, he waved weakly at the frog again. "Goodnight, Mr. Droggy... See you tomorrow, I guess..."
And so, the cycle continued.