Proving that AI can't write. And how to recognize how AI works.

[Corty]

Preface​

With the many requests I see being made, posting new threads about, from users to review their snippets, their stories, their writings, and many others complaining when it's pointed out that AI usage was suspected in creating those "stories," I had enough.

I will show you here how AI works, so all those of you who hooting and tooting that AI this, AI that, it's not bad, my book is not AI, etc, get your masks ripped off. If you go through this thread, you will start recognizing AI patterns, and maybe, just maybe, you will start hearing the telephone ringing... It's time to wake up, Neo.

Also, go ahead, leave a comment to influence a story, lets see how well can the AI keep up the cohesion of the story, before it starts forgetting the concept and the promise of the story.

PS:

Every generated chapter will come as is, no edits, nothing, I prompt the clanka, and copy its work. Then, I am giving it to your trusted AI detectors to put more salt into your wound. Check at each chapter's end, how your detectors fare!

The Ballad of Peepoo
Prologue — The Worst Possible Wizard​

I died because of a discount notification.

In my defense, it was a really good discount.

Seventy percent off instant noodles doesn’t happen every day, and I had exactly six coins in my bank account and the long-term survival instincts of a damp sponge. So yes — when my phone buzzed while I was crossing the street, I looked down.

Big mistake.

Actually, my life was kind of a long series of those.

The message filled my screen in aggressive, flashing red.

FLASH SALE — 70% OFF — LIMITED STOCK —

I squinted at it.

…Flahs Sale?

No, wait. Flash. Flash sale.

See, the thing about me is that letters have never behaved properly. They slide around. Flip. Swap places like they’re playing musical chairs when I’m not looking. Teachers used to call it “a learning difficulty.”

I called it daily betrayal by the alphabet.

Anyway.

I was halfway across the pedestrian crossing, mentally calculating how many noodle packs I could stretch across two weeks, when the world suddenly got very, very loud.

You know how in movies there’s always that dramatic tire screech?

Yeah.

It turns out real life doesn’t bother with cinematic timing. It was just—

HONK—

I looked up.

And there it was.

A truck.

Not even a cool truck. Not a sleek futuristic one. Just a big, boxy delivery truck that looked like it had strong opinions about speed limits and absolutely no interest in stopping.

Time did that weird slow-motion thing.

Which is incredibly rude, by the way.

If I’m about to die, I’d prefer the universe not give me extra time to think about it.

My brain, being deeply unhelpful, produced exactly three thoughts:

1. Wow, that’s close.
2. I never got the noodles.
3. …Is this one of those isekai moments?

Then everything went black.

---

When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I noticed was that the ceiling was wrong.

For one, my apartment ceiling had a water stain shaped like Australia.

This one had… chandeliers.

Plural.

I blinked.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Because historically, blinking has not improved my situations.

The room came into focus piece by piece.

Stone walls.

Tall arched windows.

Shelves.

So many shelves.

Every single one packed with books.

Old books.

Dusty books.

Important-looking books.

My stomach dropped.

“Oh no,” I whispered.

Because listen — being reincarnated into a fantasy world is great and all.

Being reincarnated into a library?

That’s a personal attack.

I pushed myself upright and immediately noticed two things.

First: I was much smaller than before.

Second: I was wearing robes.

Long, flowing, suspiciously wizard-shaped robes.

“…Oh no,” I said again, with feeling.

Before I could properly spiral, the door creaked open.

In walked an old man who looked exactly like what would happen if you asked someone to draw “wizard mentor” from memory.

Long beard.

Pointy hat.

Robes that probably had their own tax bracket.

He stopped when he saw me sitting up.

His bushy eyebrows shot toward the ceiling.

“Oh! You’re awake!” he boomed.

I flinched.

Not because of the volume.

Because of the expectation.

That tone — that hopeful, mentor-y tone — had never once led to anything good in my life.

He hurried over, robes swishing dramatically like they were unionized.

“You gave us quite the scare, young Peepoo.”

I froze.

“…I’m sorry,” I said slowly. “Young… what?”

“Peepoo,” he repeated warmly.

I stared at him.

He smiled back.

Completely serious.

Oh.

Oh no.

That was my name now.

I buried my face in my hands for a solid five seconds.

When I finally looked back up, the old wizard was still smiling patiently, like he had no idea he had just emotionally drop-kicked me.

“Right,” I said weakly. “Of course. That makes sense. Carry on.”

Inside, my soul was filing for divorce.

He clasped his hands behind his back.

“Now then! Since you’ve recovered, we can finally proceed with your first lesson.”

Every survival instinct I possessed — which, to be clear, was not many — began screaming.

“…Lesson?” I echoed.

“Yes!” His eyes sparkled. “Your magical initiation, of course!”

And there it was.

The moment my new life officially began to go terribly, horribly wrong.

Because see.

Magic?

Requires reading.

And I…

…do not have a strong track record with that.

He bustled over to a nearby pedestal and lifted a thick, ancient-looking book. The cover shimmered faintly, etched with glowing runes that immediately started rearranging themselves the second I looked directly at them.

My eye twitched.

Oh good.

Even the magic letters were freelancing.

He placed the book gently into my hands.

It was heavier than my self-esteem.

“This,” he said proudly, “is your beginner’s grimoire.”

I stared down at the page.

The symbols swam.

Shifted.

Danced.

One of them definitely just rotated ninety degrees out of spite.

My palms started sweating.

This was bad.

This was very bad.

“Go on,” the old wizard encouraged kindly. “Try the first spell. Just read the incantation aloud.”

Just read it aloud.

Just.

Read.

It.

Aloud.

My brain, traitor that it is, chose that exact moment to remember every single time I had misread something in my previous life.

The time I ordered soap-flavored yogurt.

The time I showed up to the wrong classroom for three weeks straight.

The time I confidently emailed my boss “Warm retards” instead of “Warm regards.”

History was not on my side.

Still.

New life.

Fresh start.

Maybe the alphabet had finally decided to behave.

I took a deep breath.

Leaned closer to the page.

And read the first spell.

“…Furball,” I said.

There was a pause.

A very small pause.

Then the universe exploded.

With cats.

Angry ones.

They burst into existence midair like the world’s fluffiest artillery strike.

One landed on my head.

Three hit the bookshelf.

Something very large and extremely offended materialized directly in the old wizard’s beard.

For a long, terrible moment, the room was filled with nothing but hissing, yowling, and the distant sound of my dignity leaving my body.

The old wizard stared.

I stared back.

A cat slowly slid down my face.

“…I,” I said faintly, “may have misread something.”

The old wizard’s eye twitched.

Just once.

Very small.

Very controlled.

In the distance, another cat fell out of thin air.

And that…

That was the exact moment I realized something important about my new magical career.

I was going to be the worst wizard this world had ever seen.

And somehow—

Somehow—

I had a feeling things were only going to get worse.

Spoiler: What's in the box?!

 

[Tempokai]

GPTZero

Copyleaks

From these four, I only trust GPTZero and Copyleaks maybe once in afternoon. What I can say this is the tool issue, some good, some bad, and utterly unreliable. Showcasing a few and saying "haha, look how it's bad" is a borderline fallacy. This sector is laughably underdeveloped aside few companies who do actual job making an actual tech that works. I can bet some of the AI detectors popped up in the market because it's how they could rake a lot of $$$ from "finding LLM by using LLM" or whatever lmao. The reason I trust those two first because they were reliable enough for me to find what's LLM written or not and are updated almost constantly, so whatever.

 

[greyblob]

ive seen thia type of writing a lot. now i know how to call out more authors. thank you

 

[Corty]

View attachment 46807
GPTZero
View attachment 46808
Copyleaks

View attachment 46809

View attachment 46810

From these four, I only trust GPTZero and Copyleaks maybe once in afternoon. What I can say this is the tool issue, some good, some bad, and utterly unreliable. Showcasing a few and saying "haha, look how it's bad" is a borderline fallacy. This sector is laughably underdeveloped aside few companies who do actual job making an actual tech that works. I can bet some of the AI detectors popped up in the market because it's how they could rake a lot of $$$ from "finding LLM by using LLM" or whatever lmao. The reason I trust those two first because they were reliable enough for me to find what's LLM written or not and are updated almost constantly, so whatever.

This just further shows that detectors are worth jack shit. Because they can return different ratings for the same text, even on the same sites.

 

[Envylope]

Noticing a lot of two word and one word sentences. Other than that, it was TLDR because I was bored after the first couple of lines. I guess AI is not only retarded but boring.

 

[Mellohwa]

Carefully.

brings back memory

 

[Assurbanipal_II]

Everyone who uses — is sus.

 

[Tempokai]

This just further shows that detectors are worth jack shit. Because they can return different ratings for the same text, even on the same sites.

That's why throwing a random "ai detector" aside from verifiably trusty ones like GPTZero is not a proof of anything. I can say it's like horoscope reading, "see this algo sides with me so I'm right" type of thing.

 

[Envylope]

That's why throwing a random "ai detector" aside from verifiably trusty ones like GPTZero is not a proof of anything. I can say it's like horoscope reading, "see this algo sides with me so I'm right" type of thing.

GPTZero not trustworthy either. While it does say my chapters are human written, I often get 14-30%. For one, even saying human written is not accurate since it doesn't know I am a vampire.

 

[NapLovingImmortal]

Sometimes, I wonder if we should be angry at other "authors"(or directors) using AI or at the reader who shallow it and praise it to the heavens.

Edit: Like, how can you think this is quality?

Edit 2: The funniest shit is always the ehm dashes. Before AI, only a handfull authors used them, and actually knew where to place them. AI on the other hand, just spamms them. Even today, I can still see if an author actually knows how to use them, or if its just any LLM taking over. I really feel sorry for the authors that get attacked for it, despite just being skilled enough haha.

 

[Corty]

Chapter 1 — Field Trip (Against My Better Judgment)​

Three days into my new life as Peepoo, future magical disaster, I learned an important truth about wizard academies.

They have excellent cleaning budgets.

Because somehow — somehow — the Great Cat Incident had been reduced to “a minor spatial misalignment during early spell practice.”

Minor.

Spatial.

Misalignment.

There had been at least fourteen cats.

One of them was still banned from the east wing.

I leaned against the tall stone window of my assigned dormitory and stared outside, pressing my forehead gently to the glass.

“…That’s definitely a fantasy world,” I muttered.

Because it was.

Unmistakably.

Aggressively.

Fantasy.

Stone towers spiraled toward the sky like they were competing for altitude. Floating lanterns drifted lazily through the air, bobbing along invisible currents. Down in the sprawling courtyard below, robed students hurried between buildings while— and I swear this is true — someone rode past on a lizard the size of a compact car.

I blinked.

The lizard blinked back.

We both silently agreed not to unpack that right now.

A knock came at my door.

I straightened immediately, because in the past three days I had learned two things:

1. Wizards knock politely.
2. Wizards also bring homework.

“Come in,” I called, trying to sound like someone who had not accidentally weaponized household pets.

The door opened to reveal Master Belvar — my assigned handler, mentor, and increasingly concerned babysitter.

His beard was still slightly singed.

We were not discussing why.

“Well then, young Peepoo,” he said, hands clasped behind his back. “How are we feeling today?”

“Statistically unlikely to summon livestock,” I said honestly.

He paused.

“…Progress,” he decided carefully.

We stood there for a moment.

Then he cleared his throat.

“I have decided,” he announced, “that continued confinement may be… counterproductive to your development.”

My stomach dropped.

That tone never led anywhere safe.

“…Define counterproductive,” I said cautiously.

“You,” he continued, ignoring my survival instincts, “will be taking a supervised walk into the lower academy district today.”

I stared at him.

“You’re letting me outside.”

“Yes.”

“Into society.”

“…Yes.”

“Where there are… people.”

His eye twitched.

“Yes, Peepoo.”

Oh.

Oh this was dangerous.

Because up until now, my magical career had been contained to one very reinforced practice room and a hallway that still smelled faintly of cat.

The outside world had not yet experienced me.

I wasn’t sure it was ready.

“I will, of course, be accompanying you,” Belvar added quickly, clearly reading the same prophecy of chaos written across my face.

Good.

Excellent.

Witnesses were important.

I pushed away from the window and straightened my slightly-too-large robes. They still felt unfamiliar — heavier than normal clothes, like they carried expectations stitched into the seams.

Which was deeply unfair.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m ready.”

That was my second mistake.

---

The academy grounds were bigger up close.

Which, logically, made sense.

Emotionally, however, it felt like being dropped into the world’s most academically aggressive theme park.

Students moved everywhere — some floating, some walking, one suspiciously gliding sideways like friction was merely a suggestion. Their robes came in different colors, different trims, different levels of confidence.

Mine, unfortunately, came with the distinct aura of “probable incident.”

Belvar walked beside me at a measured pace, hands tucked into his sleeves like he was personally restraining fate.

“Remember,” he murmured, “today is observation only.”

“Observation,” I repeated.

“No casting.”

“Right.”

“No incantations.”

“Mhm.”

“No experimental pronunciation attempts.”

I hesitated.

“…Define experimental.”

His beard bristled.

“Peepoo.”

“Understood,” I said quickly.

We continued down the broad stone path that wound toward the lower district, and with every step, the world kept getting louder.

Vendors called out from colorful stalls.

Crystal displays hummed softly in shop windows.

Somewhere nearby, something went whooomph in a deeply magical way.

My brain was doing that thing where it tried to look at everything at once and instead processed nothing correctly.

“This place is… a lot,” I admitted.

Belvar’s expression softened slightly.

“The Grand Academy of Arclume has stood for over eight centuries,” he said with quiet pride. “It is the foremost center of magical learning on the continent.”

Eight centuries.

Great.

No pressure, Peepoo.

Just don’t be the first statistical anomaly.

We turned a corner into the market lane, and that’s when things got dangerous.

Because that’s when I saw the book stall.

Now listen.

In any other life, a book stall would not register as a threat.

But in this life?

In this alphabetically hostile existence?

That thing was basically a loaded weapon pointed directly at my future.

Still.

Curiosity is a powerful and deeply unwise motivator.

My feet slowed.

Belvar noticed immediately.

“…Peepoo,” he warned.

“I’m just looking,” I said, already drifting sideways.

“Observation only,” he reminded.

“Observing the books,” I agreed.

This was technically true.

Probably.

The stall was run by a hunched old woman with sharp eyes and the posture of someone who had seen at least six magical disasters and stocked supplies accordingly.

Her gaze flicked over me.

Paused.

Then narrowed slightly.

Interesting.

“Oh,” she said slowly. “You’re the one.”

I froze.

Belvar stiffened beside me.

“…I’m sorry?” I said.

She leaned forward, squinting like she was inspecting a suspicious vegetable.

“The Furball Boy.”

Silence fell.

Belvar very suddenly found the sky fascinating.

I felt my soul leave my body for the second time this week.

“…It was one time,” I muttered weakly.

The old woman hummed in a deeply unconvinced way.

Then — and this is where the universe decided I had not suffered enough — she reached under the counter and pulled out a thin, worn booklet.

She slid it toward me.

“Try reading this,” she said.

Belvar inhaled sharply.

I stared down at the page.

The letters.

Were moving.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

My fingers twitched.

“Peepoo,” Belvar said very calmly, “we are observing—”

“I am observing,” I whispered.

The letters rearranged themselves again.

Mocking me.

Challenging me.

Look.

In my defense.

I did try to resist.

For almost three full seconds.

Then my mouth opened.

And I read.

There was a pause.

A very familiar pause.

Belvar closed his eyes.

Somewhere in the distance, reality took a deep, exhausted breath.

And directly above the book stall—

Something began to glow.

“…Oh,” I said faintly.

The old woman leaned forward eagerly.

Belvar whispered something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.

And I realized, with growing horror—

My first field trip was about to become a public incident.

Again.

Spoiler: COOOKIEEEEES

 

[Tempokai]

Yep, those two again showed that they work well compared to other horoscope ai reading detectors.

 

[Fairemont]

Anytime I see bolded text in the middle of phrases for no real reason, I know it is AI.

 

[ElijahRyne]

Noticing a lot of two word and one word sentences. Other than that, it was TLDR because I was bored after the first couple of lines. I guess AI is not only retarded but boring.

Sometimes, I wonder if we should be angry at other "authors"(or directors) using AI or at the reader who shallow it and praise it to the heavens.

Edit: Like, how can you think this is quality?

Edit 2: The funniest shit is always the ehm dashes. Before AI, only a handfull authors used them, and actually knew where to place them. AI on the other hand, just spamms them. Even today, I can still see if an author actually knows how to use them, or if its just any LLM taking over. I really feel sorry for the authors that get attacked for it, despite just being skilled enough haha.

LLM’s at least in the moment are average word generators. They start as a word predictor like autocorrect, then has a layer looking at that result that rejects or confirms the result based on how well it thinks it fits your message. Then it may have a few more layers refining this, but at the starting layer it is an algorithm that predicts the most likely next word based on its data and training. Of course this is an oversimplification, but it is not a stretch to call a LLM an average word generator whose responses are targeted at the inputing user/message.

 

[Juia_Darkcrest]

And read the first spell.

“…Furball,” I said.

There was a pause.

A very small pause.

Then the universe exploded.

With cats.

Angry ones.

They burst into existence midair like the world’s fluffiest artillery strike.

Is no one going to mention this most epic spell? I am stealing this from the clanker and going to use it .... somewhere!

Edit

WAIT I CANT! THEN I WOULD HAVE USED AI

*CRIES IN THE CORNER*

 

[TinaMigarlo]

I have to give tiny credit where its due.
satire.
someone so pathetic, that they get alerts on the phone that 70% off on a packet of Ramen Noodles?
sorry, that's goddamn funny.
the weird thing about AI writing, is that there will be these cool short lines here and there. LIke lemon pepper sprinkles.
then the image of the cats exploding, yeah I laughed.
as a satire, this almost works.

what would happen. If a human read this several times.
then... never looked at it, and wrote a 5K chapter, based on their memory and ideas taken from this.
with real paragraphs.
would the appealing satire poke through?

You're talking to the last person, right here.
I was the last person I think, to get a cell phone.
I was the last person, I think, to get a GPS
yeah, I'm one of those.

anyways. Last site. I threw up a writing excerpt. someone came on, and ran it through... something.
they posted this... frankenstein of a chapter. New names, new premise, new everything.
even hollywood couldn't have said... "based on an original story".

the only thing I liked, though.
bombs were going off, and my MC was "shifting" between his original war he was in, and this futuristic war.
the shift, in time with the artillery strikes raining in. Boom here, boom there, like that.
and the whole thing had "screenwriter shit" all over the text. Whatever.

all I took from "frankenstein" chapter the person made.
some manner of "shift" back and forth between worlds, was kind of cool.
I saw "lightning strikes" shifting back and forth like a TV acting up in a thunderstorm.
but I forgot about all this.
now, much farther along in my story.
I'm getting scenes in my head, where some kind of shifting is happening.
I think some kind of slow shifting, not very often.

but after all that, it did shit out one cool germ of an idea. that I like, that I'd have never thought of.
and that is all I can "give" AI in the way of credit.

PS - when I see the phrase "the silver plated moon..." anything. A cool line, with a silver moon, usually the clouds doing somethign dramatic, too.
that's an AI tell, it loves those lines. And, they sound good.
the pity, is those cool lines here and there. copy those cool lines out,m and save those. Write the thing from scratch on your own. you got these neat lines to drop in.

as a writer, I use metaphor, simile, stuff like that. Sometimes you hit one out of the park, sometimes its cheesy. Maybe I do it too much. I been told before, I'm "trying too hard" to write good. Then, they show some... single sentence paragraphed 1k words baby chapter, to show how "good" web novels are written. yeah, I get it. I'm an @$$hole because I write trad pub paperback style. sue me.

 

[SRB]

Poor young Peepoo, died and reincarnated inside an AI novel. Such a cruel fate.

 

[SRB]

Also, go ahead, leave a comment to influence a story, lets see how well can the AI keep up the cohesion of the story, before it starts forgetting the concept and the promise of the story.

Oh, fr? Okay, young Peepoo should learn a spell that turns frogs gay.

 

[Corty]

Okay, young Peepoo should learn a spell that turns frogs gay

Chapter 2 — Amphibian Complications​

In my defense—

Actually, no.

At this point, I was running out of defenses.

The air above the book stall shimmered like heat over asphalt, wobbling in that deeply ominous way I was beginning to associate with my life choices. The thin booklet in my hands hummed faintly, the letters still doing their usual interpretive dance across the page.

Belvar’s voice came out very calm.

Too calm.

“Peepoo,” he said, “what did you just read?”

This was a dangerous question.

Because technically, I wasn’t entirely sure.

“…Something educational?” I offered weakly.

The old stall woman leaned so far over her counter I was mildly concerned about structural integrity.

“Well?” she pressed.

“Well what?”

“Well what happened?”

That.

That was also a very good question.

For a long three seconds, absolutely nothing happened.

I began to feel hopeful.

This was mistake number one.

Then the ground near the stall’s decorative water basin began to ripple.

Belvar’s eyes snapped open.

“…Oh no,” he whispered.

I followed his gaze.

The basin was small — decorative, really — the kind of thing meant to make a magical marketplace feel soothing and civilized. A few lily pads floated lazily on the surface.

And sitting very peacefully on one of them…

…was a frog.

Just one.

Small.

Green.

Living its best amphibian life.

For a brief, beautiful moment, nothing happened.

Then the frog glowed.

I slapped the booklet shut.

Belvar inhaled through his teeth.

The frog croaked.

But not normally.

No.

This was a dramatic croak.

A croak with emotional investment.

A croak that had absolutely no business being that expressive.

The old woman’s eyes lit up like someone had just handed her front-row tickets to a disaster.

“Oho,” she said.

The frog puffed up.

Turned.

And very deliberately—

Very purposefully—

It began aggressively courting the other frog that had just surfaced from the basin’s edge.

I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

“…Huh,” I said.

Belvar pinched the bridge of his nose with the weary precision of a man who had aged ten years in three days.

“Peepoo,” he said slowly, “what… exactly… did the spell say?”

I opened the booklet again with the delicate care of someone handling a live grenade.

The letters shifted.

Swapped.

Mocked me.

I squinted.

“…It says… uh…”

I leaned closer.

“…‘Frog… Charm?’”

Belvar’s eye twitched.

“Read it again.”

I swallowed.

Looked again.

---

Frög Chärm

---

“…Okay in my defense,” I said quickly, “those dots were extremely misleading.”

The old woman wheezed with laughter.

Belvar made a sound that I was fairly certain was not approved by the Grand Academy’s emotional regulation guidelines.

Down in the basin, the two frogs were now fully committed to their life choices.

One of them did a spin.

A spin.

I closed the booklet very slowly.

“Well,” I said faintly. “Good for them.”

Belvar lowered his hand from his face and gave me a long, measuring look.

Not angry.

Not exactly.

Which was somehow worse.

“Peepoo,” he said carefully, “do you remember what I told you about experimental pronunciation?”

“Yes,” I said immediately.

“And?”

“…I have betrayed that trust.”

“You have betrayed that trust.”

We stood there in silence while, behind us, the frogs continued to pursue their truth with admirable enthusiasm.

The old woman wiped a tear from her eye.

“Oh, he’s special,” she said delightedly.

I pointed at the basin.

“In fairness,” I said, “this seems relatively low collateral damage compared to the cats.”

Belvar hesitated.

His beard shifted thoughtfully.

“…That is,” he admitted slowly, “technically correct.”

I perked up slightly.

Small victories.

However.

Because the universe has a personal vendetta against my emotional stability—

The basin began to glow again.

All three of us froze.

“…Why,” Belvar asked very quietly, “is it glowing again?”

I looked down at the booklet.

Then back at the basin.

Then back at the booklet.

“…So funny story,” I said.

The water bubbled.

Once.

Twice.

Then five more frogs surfaced.

All glowing.

All looking extremely motivated.

Belvar turned very slowly toward me.

“Peepoo.”

“Yes?”

“…How long does the spell last?”

I checked the page again.

The letters wiggled.

I squinted.

“…It says…” I swallowed. “…‘Until emotional resolution is achieved.’”

Silence fell over the market lane.

Somewhere, very far away, a bell rang.

Belvar closed his eyes.

The old woman leaned forward like this was the best day of her professional life.

And in the basin—

The frogs began to sing.

Not well.

But with commitment.

I stared into the middle distance.

“…I’m going to need a better grimoire,” I whispered.

Belvar exhaled slowly through his nose.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, you are.”

Behind us, the frogs hit what I was deeply concerned was a chorus.

And I realized something important.

Very important.

My magic wasn’t just misfiring anymore.

It was…

…escalating.

Which, historically speaking, meant my life was about to get significantly more complicated.

Spoiler: beep-boop

I was too lazy to put it into a detector, because I am embracing my AI writer phase. Feel free to do so and post the results.

Also, I told the AI to make sure it keeps consistent with the previous chapters and whatnot while making up the story. I am not reading it, so I have no idea how well it's doing.