
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
record scratch Yeah, that's me—trapped in tag #45. So there I was, vibing in the quantum void when some wizard decided to speedrun reality.exe and BOOM—Arcane Fracture drops like a mixtape nobody asked for. Now I'm stuck predicting disc golf futures? The prophecy says "One shall yeet plastic at chains," but honestly I just wanted to be a normal crystal. Instead I'm here, glowing UV like a Spencer's Gifts reject, whispering probabilities to wielders who think birdies are mystical achievements. This timeline's weird, fam.
So Leif Smith walks into the post-Fracture chaos, and Glyph Oracle starts vibrating like a notification-obsessed phone. His 893 rating? Apparently "mystically adequate" for prophecy work. The tag literally yelled "THAT ONE!" because his name means "heir"—how's that for low-hanging fruit? But can he handle cosmic spoilers?