“Wait!” I yell, my voice cracking mid-word. Real smooth, Greg.

Sintra freezes. Her glowing staff hovers inches from unleashing what I’m sure is a painful death. Her face twitches, caught between her villainous smirk and what looks like curiosity.

“Wait?” she repeats, her tone drenched in sarcasm. “You’re about to be obliterated, and your grand strategy is ‘wait’?”

I nod, still pinned by whatever magical nonsense she’s using to hold me down. “Yes. Wait. Dramatic pauses are very in right now. Builds tension.”

Her staff doesn’t move. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m negotiating,” I counter. “Totally different.”

Her eyebrow raises. For a moment, I think she might actually buy it.

Then her smirk sharpens. “Nice try, Greg. But you’re the Chosen One’s annoying sidekick. What could you possibly have to negotiate with?”

“Exactly!” I blurt out, my voice rising in pitch. “I’m not even the Chosen One! You can’t get epic points for killing the sidekick. That’s Villainy 101.”

Her smirk falters. “And why should I care about your survival?”

“Because,” I say, dragging the word out for maximum effect, “if you spare me, I can be your new sidekick. Think about it. I’ve got sarcasm, charm, and a certain… flair.”

“Flair?” she repeats. “That’s your pitch? I should spare you because you’re… flairful?”

“‘Flairful’ is definitely a word,” I say. “And yes, I bring value.”

Sintra stares at me, her lips twitching like she’s fighting a smile. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re blushing,” I point out, unable to resist.

“I am not!” she snaps, her cheeks definitely a little redder.

“Sure,” I say, grinning. “It’s just the lighting. The very evil, lighting.”

She huffs, her grip on the staff tightening. “Do you have an actual reason for wasting my time, or is this some last-ditch effort to irritate me to death?”

“Oh, I have a reason,” I say, filling my tone with mystery. “I didn’t want to use this…”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Sintra hesitates, her eyes narrowing. “Use what?”

“Wait, what?” Aggie chimes in. “What are we using?”

Sintra’s gaze darts to Aggie, and her face does this thing. Half annoyed, half surprised. “Your sword doesn’t know what you’re doing?”

“Don’t look at me!” Aggie says defensively. “I’m as confused as you are. This is Greg we’re talking about. He wings everything.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Aggie,” I say. Then, with a flourish that I’m sure looks way cooler in my head, I pull the amulet from my pocket.

Sintra’s eyes widen, and for once, she looks thrown off. “Where… where did you get that?”

“This?” I say, holding up the glowing piece of jewelry like it’s a cheap souvenir. “Oh, you mean the Amulet of Slightly Above Average Power?”

Her jaw drops. “You think…? No. No. Where did you get that?!”

“Long story,” I say, pretending to examine the amulet like I know what I’m doing. “Let’s see… a swamp, some mosquitoes, an oracle. Oh, and a donut. Can’t forget the donut.”

“A… donut?” Sintra looks like she’s questioning every decision that brought her to this moment.

“Yeah,” I say casually. “Apparently, all it takes to get divine wisdom these days is a donut. Not even a fresh one, mind you. It was squished.”

Sintra’s mouth opens and closes like she’s trying to form words but failing. Finally, she speaks. “You bribed an oracle with a donut and this is what you walked away with?!”

“Well,” I say, tilting my head, “there was also some vague prophecy stuff. But I tuned most of it out.”

Her hands fly to her head. “You’re unbelievable!”

“I’ve been told.”

She lowers her staff slightly, her expression shifting from furious to… concerned? “Greg, do you have any idea what you’re holding?”

“Yes,” I say confidently. “The Amulet of Slightly Above Average Power.”

“No,” she says, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “That’s the Amulet of Total Destruction.”

My grin freezes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The. Amulet. Of. Total. Destruction,” she says, pronouncing every word like she’s explaining the concept of fire to a caveman. “Do you know what that means?”

“That it’s… slightly above average at destroying things?” I guess.

Sintra groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Greg, that thing can destroy everything. Armies. Kingdoms. My castle.”

“Well,” I say, glancing at the rubble behind her. “Good thing the castle’s already gone.”

Her glare could melt steel. “You absolute buffoon.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to keep things interesting.” I pause, squinting at the amulet. “But, uh… just to clarify… what happens if I activate this? Hypothetically speaking.”

Sintra stiffens. Her usual scowl deepens, but there’s something else flickering behind her eyes. Panic? “You wouldn’t dare,” she snaps, stepping closer. “That’s not just a trinket, Greg. That thing was sealed away for a reason!”

I raise an eyebrow, the corners of my mouth twitching upward. “Oh? So it’s powerful enough to stop you.”

She hesitates, her confidence cracking just enough to let me see the fear lurking beneath. “Stop me? Are you insane? If you activate it, it’ll—” She cuts herself off, biting her lip.

I tilt my head, faking innocence. “Destroy you? What a convenient feature.”

Her face pales as her hand hovers near her weapon. “Don’t be stupid, Greg,” she hisses. “That’s not a weapon you can control. You’ll regret it.”

I glance at her. Then at the glowing amulet. “Define ‘regret.’”

Her eyes widen. “No. Don’t. Greg, I’m warning you—”

But I’ve already tightened my grip.