“You can’t possibly mean to risk me marrying this man!” Xemera’s voice cracked like ice, her eyes fixed on her father. The King. She wasn’t pleading anymore—now she was demanding. The room chilled, her words like shards of glass against the tension hanging in the air.

Across from her, the fat prince was drowning in his own laughter, the kind that makes the body shake uncontrollably. He was clutching his belly, his face red, gasping between cackles. He rolled off the stool, wheezing, “At least someone wants to marry you, sister!” His voice was a howling shriek, a sound that clung to the cold walls.

The tall, mysterious prince, standing in the shadows near the pillar, allowed himself the smallest of smirks, though he looked away when Xemera’s furious glare landed on him. He didn’t dare let it grow into a full smile. Xemera’s fury was palpable.

The King, however, stood motionless. The very air around him seemed to thicken as he turned his cold gaze to his daughter. His voice, soft but edged with menace, cut through the room like a knife. “Xemera.”

She stiffened. “Yes, my King?” Her voice was barely above a whisper now.

The tension snapped like a whip, the stone floor beneath them cracking as the King’s power rippled through the room—just a taste of what he could do. The cold, violent energy radiating from him was unmistakable, like the final breath of a winter storm before it crushes everything in its path.

“Are you saying you think I’ll lose?” His words were soft, but the accusation hung like a guillotine blade.

Xemera’s face drained of all color. “Of course not, Father!” she stammered, the fear choking her, “Please forgive me.”

And then—“BAKING CONTEST!”

Niles’ voice shattered the moment like a rock through a stained-glass window. All eyes turned to him, standing there, finger raised like he’d just solved a cosmic riddle.

“What?” The confusion was tangible, hanging in the room like smoke.

Niles grinned, unbothered by the absurdity of it all. “I make some killer freshly baked bread,” he continued. “Since I made three requests there should be three duels. It’s my turn to pick the second duel. Baking contest it is!”

For a moment, the King blinked. And then, to everyone’s shock, he nodded slowly, as though mulling over the bizarre challenge. The man had lived a long time. He’d seen much, endured much, but he wasn’t above humoring a fool if it meant a bit of entertainment. “Very well. A true king should know how to feed his people.”

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The fat prince squealed in delight, banging his fists against the floor like a spoiled child. The tall prince raised an eyebrow but said nothing, still a stone statue in the corner.

“Fair enough,” the King continued. “Then the final duel will be a test of strength and skill. Thumb war.”

Niles, still riding the high of having slipped a baking contest into a life-or-death duel, nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. Sounds good.”

“You have until sundown to prepare,” the King decreed. With a casual wave, he turned, his children scattering like leaves caught in a violent gust of wind.

Niles spun around to face the goddess, his grin wide and unfazed. “Alright, Goddess, let’s do this! Just power me up with some of your goddess magic and this will be easy as pie!”

The goddess blinked, still trying to process the madness that had just unfolded. “Uhm… Sir Niles,” she started, her voice soft, “my ability—it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I can’t do it again.” She sighed, her shoulders sagging under the weight of reality. “The King spent almost the entire nation’s wealth for my mission, hoping I’d summon great champions for the war effort. Instead, I… I brought you, Gustavus, and Roy.” She gave him a weak smile.

Niles’ face froze mid-grin. The enormity of what she’d said hit him like a sledgehammer.

“And,” she continued, looking away, “I’m not really a goddess. My name is Aurelia. I’m from a small noble family from the outskirts and was born with the skill to once in my life visit the heavens. The title of having a goddess helps the King’s influence over the other nations.”

Niles scratched the back of his head. “I see.”

“But,” Aurelia’s voice softened, “thank you.”

He caught her smile, a flicker of warmth in this cold, dead room. For a moment, it felt worth it.

Until she said, “Also, the King is one of the most powerful beings in this world. They call him the Dragon of the Thousand Crowns. Every crown he wears, he’s taken by force. And they later fuse them into the throne.” Her eyes filled with dread.

Niles blinked. “What a flex!”

Aurelia’s smile faded as she dropped the final hammer. “Losing the duel means death.”

Niles gulped. The reality of what he’d just gotten himself into was sinking in like quicksand. He laughed nervously. “Well, let’s get to work then!” He grabbed Aurelia’s hand. “The worst that can happen is I die, right?”

She chuckled, but her eyes betrayed the worry. “Right,” she muttered.

They stepped outside, the air crisp and biting. “Niles!” Roy, his red hair catching the sunlight, waved from the training yard. “We were worried! What happened?”

Gustavus, his green hair like a forest canopy in the breeze, chimed in. “Yeah, one of the princes—Xhiva, big guy, laughs like a madman—came by and said some idiot challenged the King to a duel.”

Roy glanced at Niles, his eyes narrowing. “Wait… why aren’t you saying anything?”

Niles shrugged, guilt spreading across his face like spilled ink. Gustavus began muttering under his breath, “No, no, no, no, no…”

Roy’s voice cracked with realization. “Wait—was that idiot you?”

Niles, grinning sheepishly, held up his hands. “Guys, I can explain.”

Gustavus exploded. “NO! YOU IDIOT! YOU GO APOLOGIZE NOW!”

Niles’ grin widened into something mischievous. “Don’t worry—I’ve got a plan.”