Bob's stomach churned violently as he leaned against the cold wall of his cell, sweat beading on his forehead. "This... this can't be good," he muttered, feeling the gurgling mess inside him bubbling up like a witch's brew. He fought the urge to puke with everything he had, but it was like trying to hold back a tsunami with a mop.

He doubled over, gasping for breath. "No... not now!" he wheezed, his vision blurring. But his stomach had other plans.

With one final, monstrous heave, Bob lost the battle. A violent surge shot up from his gut, and in a spectacular display of undignified splendor, he vomited. The splatter hit the floor with a sickening splat, thick and heavy.

Bob groaned, wiping his mouth. "That... was disgusting." He stumbled back, trying to regain his balance, but something strange was happening. The pile of gunk on the floor wasn't just lying there like any normal, miserable pile of puke. It... moved.

The mess began to shift, bubbling up and molding itself into a shape. Bob blinked, wide-eyed and horrified, watching as the blob morphed, forming arms, legs, and... googly eyes? The thing now stood upright—a tiny, humanoid-shaped golem made entirely of compacted poop.

Bob's jaw dropped. "What the...?"

The golem, its little body glistening in a way that no golem should, stared up at Bob with those ridiculous googly eyes. It didn't speak—thank goodness—but it wobbled forward on its stubby legs, as if it knew exactly what to do.

Before Bob could even process the nightmare unfolding in front of him, the tiny golem scurried over to the cell door. It squeezed its compact, squishy body through a tiny crack under the bars and began fiddling with the lock.

Bob, still standing frozen with his mouth hanging open, couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Is this... is this really happening?"

The golem worked quickly, its tiny, gross hands moving with surprising precision. After a few moments, there was a soft click. The cell door creaked open. The golem turned to Bob, gave a thumbs-up—or at least what vaguely resembled one—and then promptly disappeared, sinking back into the ground like a poop-shaped superhero vanishing into the shadows.

Bob stared at the open door, his brain short-circuiting. "I... I'm free?" He took a cautious step toward the door, half-expecting it to slam shut again.

But no—there it was, wide open.

Suddenly, a cheerful ding! rang in his ear.

"Congratulations, User!" P.U.M.A. chimed in with its infuriatingly chirpy voice. "You've unlocked the first hidden power of Crap Golem! Keep collecting Stink Points to find out what else it can do!"

Bob groaned, running a hand through his hair. "This is insane," he muttered. But as he stepped through the doorway, a strange sense of relief washed over him. Sure, a golem made of vomit and poop had just saved him, but hey—he wasn't locked up anymore. That had to count for something.

Bob glanced around the dim hallway, his mind racing. "Okay... I'm out. Now what?" His voice echoed softly in the empty corridor, bouncing off the cold stone walls.

In the distance, faint sounds of chaos drifted toward him—shouts, crashes, the unmistakable hum of spells being cast. Something was seriously wrong in the academy. It wasn't just his usual disaster for once.

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His mind snapped back to the situation at hand. He still had 150 Stink Points left after all those insane morphs. He opened the P.U.M.A. interface briefly, eyeing the options. "Do I save them for later, or try one more upgrade?" Bob chewed his lip. But considering how the last spell turned out—a literal puke-golem—he figured he might need to hold onto those points. Just in case.

The academy sounded like it was in total chaos. Bob's eyes darted around the hallway, his mind racing. "I need to get out of here. Fast."

He ducked behind a column, trying to listen to the noises. The place was falling apart, and he had no idea what was going on. Had Felina triggered this somehow? Was the Lord of Decay's army actually here?

Bob groaned. Of course, the moment he'd managed to break out of his cell, the whole academy was under attack. Typical.

"Alright, Bob," he whispered to himself, "you've got some weird poop powers, a few Stink Points, and no plan. But you're free. Now you just need to... not die. And not get caught. Easy."

His feet moved before his brain had a chance to catch up. He started down the hallway, keeping close to the walls. He could hear the distant crash of magic spells being thrown, the occasional scream, and some kind of alarm bell echoing through the corridors.

"Yup, sounds bad," Bob mumbled. His goal? Stay alive, figure out what in the name of stink was happening, and maybe—if luck was on his side—find a way to escape.

Bob slunk through the academy grounds, trying to make himself as small as possible. All around him, chaos raged. Students were sprinting in every direction, some casting desperate spells, others screaming as they fled from monstrous creatures. The dark forces of the Lord of Decay had fully descended on the academy, and it was a magical battlefield out there.

He ducked behind a crumbling statue, just as a blast of dark magic sailed over his head, exploding in the distance. "Great," Bob muttered under his breath, peeking out cautiously. "Ahh, I always wanted to experience a full-scale magical apocalypse. Dream come true..."

Ahead of him, a group of students were trying to fend off a pack of rotting creatures. Their faces were pale, eyes wide with fear, hair wild from the chaos. One student glanced Bob's way in mid-sprint, their expression twisting into confusion. Is that... the guy who blew up his room? their eyes seemed to say.

Bob ducked his head, heat rising to his cheeks. "Let's just pretend they didn't see me," he whispered to himself, trying to blend into the shadows as he moved. He could hear spells whizzing through the air, the ground trembling under the weight of dark energy. Every crackle and explosion made him jump.

He rounded a corner, heart pounding, and then heard it: the low growl of something dark and very, very angry. He glanced back and saw a horde of decaying creatures, eyes glowing with eerie green light, chasing him. "Oh crap. Literally."

Bob's legs kicked into overdrive as he bolted down a narrow corridor, his breath ragged, barely keeping ahead of the swarm. His eyes darted around for an escape. Left, right—nothing but more chaos. Then, a door appeared at the end of the hall. He sprinted toward it and slammed into it with all his weight.

It was a toilet. Of course.

Bob locked the door behind him and pressed his back against it, trying to catch his breath. The door rattled as the creatures slammed into it from the other side, growling and snarling. "Well, isn't this just perfect?" Bob said between gasps, glancing around the cramped bathroom. "Of all the heroic places to make my last stand... it had to be here."

He eyed the grimy toilet stall in front of him. "Please tell me this toilet isn't haunted too," he mumbled, half expecting it to start talking or levitating at this point.

The banging on the door grew louder, more desperate. Bob's heart hammered in his chest. He needed a plan, and fast. As he frantically scanned the small, smelly space, his eyes fell on a sewer access panel in the floor. His stomach dropped. "Oh no... no way am I climbing into that!" he said, shaking his head. But the creatures outside weren't giving up, and the door was starting to splinter.

"...Okay, fine. Sewer it is," Bob groaned, popping the panel open. The stench hit him immediately, a thick wave of putrid air that made his eyes water. "How bad could it be compared to the rest of my day?" He took one last look at the rattling door before lowering himself into the dark, gooey tunnel below.

The door cracked open just as Bob disappeared into the foul-smelling depths.