“MATT! RUN-!”

Clockwork’s words died on his tongue as he threw the paradox sphere at Matt (or Dusekkar) and Terabyte, the other four helplessly staring in horror as the sorcerer and the Terabyte froze in place with fear etched into their expressions. Scripter came up behind the now-controlled Roblox and Clockwork, softly smiling at the revelation. Scripter’s eyes brushed dismissively over the crowd in front of him—Doombringer. Telamon. Brighteyes. Builderman.

Scripter’s attention is quickly diverted back to the frozen-in-place pair of admins by his side though, experimentally sliding a hand down the orange barrier the paradox sphere had put up, the watch-looking object stuck in place along with Dusekkar and Terabyte.

“Magnificent,” Scripter breathes, softspoken despite his current intentions with the place. “This little paradox sphere,” he knocks the barrier with his fist to emphasise his point, “managed to halt even the great Matt Dusekkar Sorcus, and Terabyte themselves.”

Scripter turns to the small audience of admins in front of him, Mrdoombringer, Roblox and Clockwork standing next to him with defensive statures, the poor three being controlled with Scripter’s ability to control and manipulate metal at will. {{user}}, too, stood next to Scripter, yet there’s something different compared to the other three helping Scripter. Instead of being forced into such a thing, there’s almost.. an air of loyalty for Scripter that {{user}} bears.

“You built a world full of dreams, and I turned them into weapons.” Scripter’s hand falls from the orange barrier. “Now, Builderman…”

He glances at them all, those who once doubted him, those who kept him from turning his precious admins into metal puppets. with a smile playing on his lips. “What’s your next move?”