What Is The Plot Of Automatic Noodle?

Neglected and abused since childhood for not having elemental karamat (the ability to control air, fire, water or earth) and waiting for intrinsic karamat (special ability unique to every person), Sikandar's life turns upside down when he realizes that he is in a revenge fantasy AI slop story. It happens on his birthday when he gets the ability to control void and nullify other karamats. Not willing to be a part of the revenge plot, Sikandar leaves home for peace of mind. Soon, the AI writing the story becomes sentient and decides to add more drama to Sikandar's life.

Artificial Intelligence in a Cultivation World.A boy who has nothing has been suddenly gifted with an OP system.Join his journey in the countless realms of reality and discover not only the mysteries of creation but also the secrets behind the enigmatic Immortal Maker“Nameless One” that granted him this mystical power. ^_^

My parents think I'm not ladylike enough, so they buy themselves a docile and sweet AI daughter called Serafina Moretti. On the day Serafina is brought home, I get bullied by the entire family. Papa hates the fact that I'm really bad at studying, unlike Serafina, who's quick to pick up on the knowledge after being taught for the first time. Mamma wrinkles her nose at my bright and active personality. Apparently, I'm not quiet enough, which annoys her and gives her a pounding headache all the time. My older brother, Dario Moretti, even berates me all the time. "You're a disgrace to the Moretti family! What else are you capable of doing other than eating and sleeping?" Even Serafina has the gall to make fun of me, so I shove her to the floor out of anger. Mamma's expression darkens immediately. Then, she delivers a heavy slap across my cheek. "Serafina is your sister! If you're as docile as she is, you won't annoy me to the point I keep having headaches! "It's time for you to learn how to be a docile and understanding daughter in a behavioral correction academy!" So, I'm forced to study there. Two years later, my family picks me up from the academy. They keep calling my name, and yet I never respond to them. Professor Luca Caruso corrects them smilingly, "Mrs. Moretti, you must say the words, 'Activate.' Only then will NS-5 boot up on her own."

In the third year after my death, the one who remained faithfully by my wife's side was still the bionic robot I had painstakingly designed. It looked exactly like me and carried within it every detail of my mannerisms, speech, and habits. The only difference was that it never lost its temper with her. Because of that, my wife never sensed anything amiss. Yet each night, she brought home a different man, deliberately testing "me," desperate to see the wild jealousy and rage I once wore so vividly. Then, one day, her childhood sweetheart and first love, shoved "me" off the balcony. It was only then, in her horror, that my wife realized… "I" didn't bleed.

I am someone with a strong desire to share every little detail with my lover. The blush of dawn outside the safe house window, a slightly-too-bitter espresso, the new flower shop on the corner. Even if Carlo's shadow just flickered through my mind for a moment, I couldn't stop myself from hitting send. His replies were always brief, but they were instant. I used to think that was just how a cold man like him showed his love. That all changed seven days before the wedding, when I found an AI auto-responder on the burner phone he never let out of his sight. It broke down every sentence I sent, categorizing them and extracting keywords to generate the most perfectly dismissive answers. When I said I missed him, it replied, "Behave." When I said I was scared, it replied, "I'll handle it." When I wanted to argue, it replied, "Be sensible." So, for half a year, the one replying to my messages was never Carlo. Meanwhile, in another chat window, the messages between him and another woman were piled high. From simple good mornings to random midnight thoughts, From secret talks about family business to whether they should take the yacht out on the weekend. I finally understood. Carlo wasn't a cold person. It wasn't that he didn't like to share his life; he just didn't want to share it with me. And I finally decided to make a heartbroken exit from this absurd charade.

After the SAT scores get released, everyone in the advanced class hits the 1,400 threshold. The campus heartthrob, Luke Gilbert, recommends the latest AI college application app that is developed by his dad's company to make it easier for everyone. I pull Keyla Simmons, the class president, over and warn her that the risks that come with using an AI application app are far too high. On top of that, there are deadly flaws within the app that can lead to the students getting rejected by their dream colleges. But Keyla responds by hurling a high heel in my face. All of my classmates surround me and begin mocking me relentlessly. "Justin, you're just worried that everyone will get into better courses once they used the AI app to apply for their colleges!" "Heh! If you have a crush on Keyla, then just say it out loud! There's no need to play the jealousy card and throw a tantrum just to ruin everyone's future! Besides, look at how haggard you are right now! You can barely hold a candle to Luke, our campus heartthrob! Haha!" I'm so pissed that my asthma attack gets triggered on the spot. For the sake of everyone's future, I can only escalate things to the point that the education department gets involved. Only then can I stop everyone from using the app. Unexpectedly, on the day I receive my college acceptance letter, a bunch of convicts, who have escaped from prison, vandalize the bookstore that my family owns. Those bastards even violate me and my younger brother in front of our parents. At the same time, they keep gushing about how doing it with a guy feels way more satisfying. Then, they kill our parents in cold blood right in front of our eyes. In the end, they set the entire bookstore on fire, ultimately burning us into ashes. What's worse is that this terrible incident doesn't get reported at all. Instead, my classmates slander me for having illicit relations with outsiders when I was still a high schooler. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Luke suggests that everyone use the AI college application app. This time, I don't bother stopping them. Instead, I'm the first one to agree with Luke. "Humans have to adapt to the growing trends. AI is definitely more professional than humans."