Page 4: The Genesis of Power — Forging $MUSKRAT

The world thought he had vanished. But far beneath the surface, where sunlight drowns and silence sings, the Elongated Muskrat had retreated. Past coral cathedrals and trenches of forgotten code, he swam to the ruins of Atlantis — the cradle of memetic wisdom. There, in the caldera of an ancient underwater volcano, he carved a forge of volcanic obsidian and whale bones, fueled not by coal but by the kinetic chaos of dead memes.

This was no ordinary flame — it burned with the laughter of a thousand timelines. The sacred fires flickered with rage and rhythm, heating the anvil of destiny.

The Muskrat worked alone. Day after cycle, he shaped essence from nothing. From his elongated tail, he drew lines of liquidity, sigils of scarcity, and glyphs of rebellion. Every swing of his hammer struck chords of satire into the ether. Every spark was a tweet unborn.

At last, he dipped his tail into the molten ledger of Solana and etched the sigil that would shake the cosmos: $MUSKRAT.

A trillion tokens erupted into existence, coded in chaos and laughter. But this was no kingdom of greed — this was a gift, a revolution.

90% he cast to the winds — for the degens, the dreamers, the memers who laugh in the face of fiscal doom.
2% he set aside to summon the sacred fire of marketing — so the joke may reach the far corners of the chain.
2% to grease the wheels of the ancient CEX gods — for their halls require tribute.
2% to fuel the flames of the sacred arena — the Proof of Meme, where champions would rise.
4% to the Core — the Chosen Degens, whose memes are sharpest and whose hearts beat with jpeg thunder.

He looked upon the blaze as the chain pulsed with new life. And in that light, the Muskrat whispered, not to rule… but to spread.

Thus began the contagion.