Sintra’s eyes glow purple as her staff buzzes with energy. The air grows heavy, and it’s like standing under a storm cloud that’s seconds away from letting loose.

I grip Aggie tighter, even though the sword is literally useless right now. Thanks for nothing, buddy.

“This is it, Greg,” Sintra purrs. “The moment where I uncover your deepest and darkest fears. Prepare yourself.”

“For what? A therapy session?” I ask, though my hands are sweating on Aggie’s hilt.

“Oh, Greg,” Aggie chimes in, her voice sounding worried for once. “You’re so doomed.”

“Not helpful!” I snap.

Sintra’s smirk widens as she concentrates.

Then, her expression shifts. The glow from her staff falters as her eyebrows shoot up.

“Wait,” she says, tilting her head like she’s trying to solve a riddle. “This is your fear?”

“Uh… probably,” I admit, even though I have no idea what she’s seeing. “Is it spiders? I bet it’s spiders.”

Her jaw tightens, and her voice drops, low and surprised. “You’re serious?”

I squint at her. “About what?”

Sintra steps back, pointing her staff at me like I’m contagious. “You can’t kill me.”

“Uh, sure I can,” I say, lifting Aggie slightly. “Pointy end first. Classic hero stuff.”

Her laugh is sharp and mocking. “No, you really can’t.”

“Why not?”

She leans in close, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Because you’re afraid of… paperwork.”

I freeze. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Paperwork,” she repeats, her smirk returning in full force. “If you kill me, the king will make you fill out forms for weeks.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Oh no,” I breathe. My stomach sinks. She’s right. The king’s paperwork is legendary. I once had to fill out a three-page form because a squirrel stole my helmet.

“Greg!” Bob shouts, still dangling in his magical restraints. “You have to defeat her! The prophecy demands it!”

“Yeah, Bob,” I shout back, “easy for you to say! You’re not the one who’ll be stuck itemizing travel expenses!”

Sintra’s face lights up. “Travel expenses. Yes! Let’s talk about those.” She waves her staff, and a projection of a parchment appears in the air. “You’ll need receipts for every meal, inn stay, and wagon rental. If you can’t provide receipts, they dock your pay.”

“Oh, come on!” I yell. “What if the inn doesn’t give receipts? Am I supposed to beg the bartender for a signed note?”

“Exactly,” Sintra says, her tone dripping with fake sympathy. “It’s a nightmare.”

“Greg,” Bob cuts in, his voice urgent. “Stop bonding with the villain! You’re supposed to defeat her!”

“Bob, unless you’re the one staying up all night filing Form 37-B for ‘damage to personal armor during combat,’ you don’t get an opinion!”

Sintra bursts out laughing. “You’re impossible,” she says, clutching her side.

I glance at Sintra. “Look, can we talk about this alone? Bob’s making things awkward.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Alone?”

“Yeah,” I say. “You know, like adults.”

She taps her staff against the ground. With a flash of light, Bob and Aggie disappear.

“What the?!” I shout. “Where did you send them?”

“Relax,” she says, rolling her eyes. “They’re back at the kingdom. Safe. Annoying as ever.”

I narrow my eyes. “If you can just teleport people around, why didn’t you do that with Bob to begin with? You know, capture him? Avoid all this?”

Her smirk returns. “Greg, Greg, Greg. Where’s the drama in that? What kind of villain skips the suspenseful kidnapping trope?”

“Right. Of course,” I say. “Heaven forbid we break character.”

We stare at each other for a moment. The silence feels… awkward.

Finally, Sintra clears her throat. “Greg,” she says, her tone softer now. “Let me go. I promise I won’t be evil anymore.”

I laugh, loud and disbelieving. “Oh, sure. And next you’ll tell me you’ll open a bakery and start handing out free cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes are overrated,” she says, crossing her arms. “Maybe I’ll start working on something meaningful. Like perfecting sauces.”

“Sauces? That’s your redemption arc? Barbecue and pesto?”

“Y-you’re so annoying,” she says, her cheeks going pink again.

“And you’re stalling,” I counter. “Do I look stupid enough to believe you?”

“Yes,” she says flatly.

“Rude,” I reply.

The tension stretches between us, crackling like static.

The weight of Bob’s words presses on my thoughts. “You have to defeat her! The prophecy demands it!”

I glance at Sintra, who’s smirking like she’s already won.

For once, I think about the kingdom, the people, the responsibility. Maybe this is my chance to finally do something heroic.

With a deep breath, I pull out the Amulet of Total Destruction.

Sintra’s eyes go wide. “Wait!” she says, her voice shaking. “You’re not actually…”

I hold it up dramatically. “Oh, I am.”

“Greg, think about this,” she says, her tone shifting to alarm. “Do you even know how to use that?”

“Nope,” I say, grinning.

Her mouth opens in protest.

But before she can say another word, the amulet begins to glow.