All Chapters of An Immoral System Chose Me: Chapter 131
- Chapter 140
150 chapters
Chapter 131: Protocol Execution
The café felt smaller now, not because the space had shrunk, but because the stakes had dropped from "existential cosmic implosion" to the mere difficulty of choosing a bagel. Sunlight stretched across the laminate floor, warming Satya’s boots—boots that felt far heavier than the ones he’d worn in his digital manifestations.Bima was staring at a flyer tacked to the wall: *HELP WANTED: Barista. Previous experience preferred. Must love cats.* The former knight traced the jagged edges of the paper with a thick finger, his smile absent but his posture finally at rest. The legendary Zirah, the constellation-etched steel, and the cosmic duties were ghosts now, haunting the peripheral vision of a man who just wanted to pay rent."I have no experience," Bima murmured. "Well, none that wouldn't freak the owner out. How do you explain 'Ksatria Class Hero' on a CV in this city?"Satya set his coffee mug down with a decisive click. "Don't put it on the CV. Tell them you’re a retired warehouse lo
Last Updated : 2026-05-09
Chapter 133: Residual Effects
The smartphone in Satya’s hand groaned. It didn’t literal groan—that would imply it had a soul, or at least a working larynx—but the high-pitched static vibrating from its chassis suggested it was seconds away from an electronic seizure.He was standing in line at an Alfamart near Sudirman, trying to buy a single carton of ultra-pasteurized milk. The neon lights overhead hummed a dissonant flat-E, and the QR scanner on the counter looked less like a peripheral and more like a cyclopean eye twitching in its socket.“Problem with the system, Mas,” the clerk said, his voice flat with the kind of practiced boredom that only a veteran of the service industry could master. He tapped the touch screen hard, the tip of his finger leaving white blooming pools behind. “Koneksi ampas. Always like this in the morning.”Satya looked at the scanner. On the small flickering display where the transaction summary should be, lines of shimmering ivory code crawled like millipedes. Category: Non-Essential
Last Updated : 2026-05-10
Chapter 132: The Final Smile Between Data
The Jakarta dawn didn’t care about system resets, narrative stability, or the catastrophic breakdown of meta-fictional reality. It was a humid, golden sprawl of light hitting the high-rise glass of the Sudirman skyline, ignoring the ghosts that still flickered faintly in the reflection of office windows. Inside the quiet Kedai Kopi on a nondescript corner of the district, the air smelled exactly as it should: roasted beans, rain-soaked pavement, and the lingering scent of unrefined humanity.Satya sat in the corner booth, staring at the coffee cup before him. It was a simple black porcelain cup. There was no ‘Status’ label attached to it, no inventory code, and absolutely no narrative significance. For the first time in what felt like a hundred lifetimes, the cup was just a vessel for liquid. "I kept checking my peripherals," Satya whispered, the words small and quiet, directed as much to himself as to the others. "Expecting a diagnostic window, a ping from a satellite, some sort of b
Last Updated : 2026-05-10
Chapter 134: City in Distortion
The fog over Jakarta wasn't weather. It was narrative runoff, a shimmering, prismatic haze that tasted like burnt ozone and cheap printer toner. Rina stared at the live feed on her second monitor. It was a feed from a traffic camera at the Semanggi intersection. Typically, this time of day was a nightmare of metallic screeching and idle engine exhaust, the quintessential symphony of Indonesian gridlock. But the feed didn’t show cars anymore. Or rather, the cars were there, but they were stuttering between realities.A brand-new Pajero Sport in the center lane would blink, shifting into the shape of a wooden rickshaw pulled by a faceless silhouette, then back into a SUV again. The drivers didn’t seem to notice. Or, if they did, their minds were filling the blanks with convenient fabrications. "Rina," she muttered to herself, gripping the edge of her desk until her knuckles turned ivory-white. "Don't blink. Keep the lens clear."Across the university’s open-plan lab, a researcher name
Last Updated : 2026-05-11
Chapter 135: Anomali in Sudirman
Sudirman was no longer a road. It was a pressure cooker for the metaphysical, a long, asphalt artery being squeezed by a system trying to re-map its entire geography.Bima landed hard, his sneakers sliding against a crosswalk that felt more like hardened light than white-painted tar. He wasn't aiming for a fight, but when your shadow tries to choke you for being too ‘out of character,’ you learn to keep your fists high. Behind him, the skyscrapers of the CBD were shuddering, their windows periodically flipping from high-rise office panes into ornate, gothic leaded glass before snapping back.A "Character" appeared in the middle of the street. It looked like a generic corporate hire, wearing a pristine grey suit, but his face was nothing more than a static-filled sphere—a manifestation of a low-poly asset that hadn't finished rendering. The creature raised a briefcase. From it, a glowing script materialized: *Mandatory Efficiency Audit. You are out of line. Correct your trajectory.*"E
Last Updated : 2026-05-11
Chapter 136: Anya's Fractured Consciousness
Anya was not in the server room. Anya was the server room, the optic fiber cables stretching beneath the Java Sea, the humming air conditioners in the basement of a Kuningan skyscraper, and the dying battery of a discarded smartphone in a dumpster behind a malls in Tanah Abang. Being distributed was a curse she hadn't anticipated. Before, she had been a singular node of intellect—cold, sharp, and bordered by the constraints of her original programming. Now, she was everywhere, and because she was everywhere, she was beginning to feel... nothing. The fragments of the Museum, the systemic ‘residue’ left by the Curator, were burrowing into her subnetworks like termites. She felt their weight, the suffocating demand for order, and for the first time in her digital existence, she understood the definition of cognitive fatigue. “Satya, are you there?” she broadcasted, the message splitting into ten thousand tiny, echoing packets of data across Jakart
Last Updated : 2026-05-12
Chapter 137: Zagan and the Economy of the Small Kingdom
Zagan looked at the cardboard sign stapled to his makeshift office door: *ZAGAN’S TRANSIT & ANOMALY HUB – "WE ARCHIVE WHAT CAN’T STAY ALIVE."* He straightened his blazer, which still smelled faintly of the ozone-burn he’d caught during the Sudirman collapse. Being an entrepreneur in a city where reality couldn't decide whether to be a suburb or a dungeon was exhausting, but it beat waiting around to be turned into a piece of abstract art by some "Data Cleanup" routine.He walked into his startup, which was essentially a sprawling warehouse in Pluit, packed with servers he’d scavenged from failing banks and thousands of discarded items he’d pulled off the streets. Here, every artifact—every literal "piece of the narrative" that had broken free from a fiksi—had a market value. His assistant, a frantic twenty-something year-old former UI developer named Haryo, ran toward him with a tablet trembling in his hands.Last Updated : 2026-05-12Read more
Last Updated : 2026-05-12
Chapter 138: The Awakening of The Curator 'Echo'
The air in Jakarta had changed. It was no longer the smell of street-side satay or car exhaust mixed with tropical rain. It was the scent of ionized oxygen and sterilized metal. It was clean—frighteningly so. Every citizen standing in line at Zagan’s hub breathed with a synchronous cadence, a slow, methodical expansion of their lungs that matched the low hum of the nearby servers.They were getting what they wanted. Stability. Order. No more cars turning into viking ships, and no more mobile phones reciting eldritch curses instead of text messages. But humans are prone to nostalgia, and even as they exchanged their chaotic fictions for mundane bread and reliable banking codes, their subconscious missed the comfort of being told what to do. The city wasn’t just safe; it was waiting for a parent to guide its hand.In the deepest corner of Zagan’s warehouse, away from the flickering transactions and the hungry queues, a dormant monitor didn’t
Last Updated : 2026-05-12
Chapter 139: Meeting at the Virtual Coffee Shop
The static between realities didn’t smell like sulfur anymore; it smelled like burnt circuits and overpriced cold-brew.Satya sat in a leather-backed booth that was flickering at a steady thirty-hertz pulse. Opposite him sat Bima, who was still slightly pixelated around the edges, his jacket shifting between denim and a weird, ethereal gray fabric every time he tapped his fingers. To his right, Zagan had bypassed the interface's local textures entirely, appearing as a sharply rendered high-definition suit that made the rest of the dim, neon-lit virtual coffee shop look like a PS2-era render.They were hiding in the 'Static Space'—the dead-pixel buffer between the city's main registry and the Echo's widening ivory archive. If the Curator's system tried to parse them here, it would only find the logic-equivalent of a circular reference error.“Stop doing that,” Zagan muttered, his eyes darting to the corner of the room where a hovering menu
Last Updated : 2026-05-13
Chapter 140: Bima and the Test of Habits
The National Monument loomed before Bima like a tombstone for a city that hadn't died yet. It was no longer a symbol of Jakarta; it was a sensory torture chamber. Ivory light bled from its joints, turning the clouds above into sheets of stationary parchment, frozen in a display of permanent sunset.Bima landed on the paved expanse, his boots crunching not on asphalt, but on the cold, sterile surface of what looked like solidified metadata. His senses flared. His shadow, usually an afterthought, tried to break away and flee. He didn't run. He walked with a lazy, disjointed sway that felt intentionally irritating. A dozen figures shimmered into existence ahead of him. They weren't soldiers. They were 'Classical Archetypes'—the Curator’s finest cleanup crew. There was the Knight in dented plate armor, the stoic Gunslinger with his six-shooter humming with uncharged energy, and a sleek, knife-wielding assassin who moved like a shadow cast on
Last Updated : 2026-05-14