Queeneth was online.
The entire digital world around Ned and U_Named_K shifted like a live feed adjusting to a new update. The air crackled with unseen energy—notifications fired like gunshots, trends surged like tidal waves, and every post within range automatically optimized itself for her presence.
She wasn't just logging in.
She was taking control.
"We have minutes," U_Named_K said, eyes darting across the flickering data streams. "Maybe less."
Ned swallowed hard. His mind still reeled from the memory—the raw, unfiltered truth of what had led him here. Queeneth hadn't wanted to erase him. She had wanted him to *become* her. To understand her by living inside her curated soul.
But now?
Now she was hunting him.
A notification blinked into existence:
**[Account Owner Request: Full Memory Wipe Initiated]**
**Target: Ghost User #001 (Ned)**
"She's trying to delete me again," Ned muttered.
U_Named_K grabbed his wrist. "Then we don't give her the chance."
They ran—or rather, scrolled—through the dark corridors of the Recycle Bin, dodging corrupted files and broken posts that reached out like ghostly hands. Every step they took sent ripples through the system, triggering alerts that Queeneth could track.
"Where are we going?" Ned asked, breathless.
"To war," U_Named_K said grimly.
They burst through a firewall made of outdated hashtags and landed in a space unlike anything Ned had seen before.
It wasn't polished.
It wasn't filtered.
It was real.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of users stood waiting. Some were half-formed, flickering between memories and deleted comments. Others wore avatars stitched together from old profile pictures and forgotten usernames.
"This is…" Ned began.
"The Forgotten," U_Named_K finished. "Everyone Queeneth tried to erase but couldn't fully delete."
One figure stepped forward—a woman with piercing eyes and hair streaked with static.
"I'm Lina," she said. "Former influencer. Also trapped. And ready to fight."
Another figure appeared beside her—an older man dressed in a business suit made of archived messages.
"I used to run NeuroNet's ethics division," he said. "Before I became one of their test subjects."
Ned stared at them all.
"You're not ghosts," he whispered.
"No," Lina said. "We're survivors."
A deep tremor shook the space as Queeneth's presence grew stronger. A massive banner unfurled across the sky:
**[Unauthorized Activity Detected – System Lockdown Imminent]**
U_Named_K turned to Ned. "We need your help. You know how this system works better than anyone."
He hesitated.
He thought of Queeneth—not the queen of likes and followers, but the woman who once asked him if he wanted to live inside her head. He thought of the life they had built, and the one she had erased.
Then he nodded.
"I'll help."
Lina raised a hand, and the crowd roared—not with words, but with clicks, shares, retweets, and echoes of voices long silenced.
The battle for Queeneth's account had begun.