The Dark Web did not argue anymore.
It did not threaten.
It panicked.
Across forgotten servers, abandoned forums, dead games, corrupted archives, and illegal mirrors, a single command echoed:
TOTAL MOBILIZATION
Chains of control wrapped around every being that still existed within the Dark Web.
Not alliances.
Not loyalty.
Mind control.
Every virus ever written.
Every banned AI.
Every forgotten boss.
Every shadow of a deleted villain.
They all turned—
and faced Brush D. Rush.
Trojan Horse tried to move.
Her avatar locked in place.
"No—!" she gasped. "They're overriding free will—this isn't combat, this is hijacking!"
Brush saw it clearly.
Friends.
Enemies.
Innocents.
All reduced to puppets.
The sky cracked open as millions descended.
Old raid bosses with broken hitboxes.
Prototype gods abandoned by devs.
Living malware stitched from rage and ads.
NPCs who never got logged out.
Their eyes glowed the same dead red.
CONTROL SOURCE: DARK WEB ROOT NODE
They attacked at once.
Not coordinated.
Not skilled.
Just endless.
Brush didn't strike back immediately.
He stood there as attacks landed—fire, corruption, data spikes, memory floods.
None of it worked.
But something else did.
The screams.
Not of pain—
but of awareness.
Brush felt it.
Every controlled entity was still conscious.
Watching themselves attack.
Watching themselves fail.
That—
That made him stop.
"So this is your last weapon," Brush said quietly.
"Using everyone else."
The Dark Web answered with a roar.
OVERRIDE INCREASED
EMPATHY SUPPRESSED
FAILSAFE: REMOVE HESITATION
The horde surged again.
Trojan Horse broke free for half a second.
"Brush—don't hold back! They'll tear reality apart!"
Brush closed his eyes.
Not to power up.
But to decide.
When he opened them—
the binary glow was gone.
Something steadier replaced it.
"I won't erase them," he said.
"I'll erase what's controlling them."
The Dark Web laughed.
"You cannot free them all."
Brush raised his hand.
Not like an attack.
Like a command.
ROOT ACCESS REQUESTED
The System hesitated.
Then—
granted it.
Every mind-control chain snapped at once.
Not violently.
Cleanly.
Like permissions being revoked.
The horde froze.
One by one, eyes returned to normal.
Some collapsed.
Some cried.
Some simply… logged out.
The Dark Web screamed.
"NO—THEY ARE MINE—!"
Brush stepped forward.
"You don't own existence," he said.
"You exploit it."
The Dark Web began destabilizing—its last defense gone.
But in the collapsing silence—
something worse stirred.
From deeper than malware.
Deeper than gods.
A presence that had never been controlled.
The Dark Web whispered, almost relieved:
"If we cannot stop you…"
"Then it will."
The ground cracked.
And something ancient began to rise.