From the far end of the courtyard, the ground trembled. Bob, still crouched in the bush, felt the rumble through his knees. A massive figure emerged from the smoke, stepping forward with slow, deliberate confidence. It was Commander Vrog—a hulking orc with decayed patches of skin, muscles rippling beneath cracked armor. Dark, sickly magic pulsed around him like a cloud of black mist, twisting and curling as he moved.

His eyes scanned the battlefield, filled with disdain as he watched the students struggle against the putty creatures. "You resist, but it's pointless," he sneered, his voice booming across the courtyard. "Decay is the only truth. Your fire, your barriers, your magic—it all turns to dust."

Vrog raised one enormous fist, glowing faintly with sickly green light. "The Lord of Decay understands the cycle of life," he continued, his tone mocking. "You fight for a world that's already dead. Join us, or crumble like the rest." With a swift motion, he slammed his fist into the ground, causing the earth to crack beneath him. A foul-smelling mist rolled out, spreading across the battlefield, turning everything it touched into rotting debris.

Bob, still hiding in the bush, peeked out with wide eyes. "Okay, so now we've got a giant decayed orc giving a 'join me or die' speech. Great. Could this day get any worse?" His heart raced as he watched the ground split, the mist creeping closer to the students.

At the front of the line, Frank stood tall—or as tall as his shaking legs would let him. Sweat dripped down his pale face, and his barrier flickered weakly under the weight of Vrog's magic. But despite his obvious exhaustion, Frank refused to back down. His hands clenched tightly around his staff, and his eyes, though tired, burned with determination.

"Stay behind me!" Frank yelled, his voice hoarse as he spotted a younger student who had fallen, scrambling to get away from one of the approaching putty creatures. Without thinking, Frank leaped forward. Instead of casting another weak barrier, he threw himself between the student and the monster, using his own body as a shield.

The blow landed hard—Frank grunted, doubling over as the creature's decayed fist slammed into his side, knocking the wind out of him. But he didn't fall. He staggered, but somehow stayed on his feet, arms spread wide, still shielding the student.

Gasping for breath, Frank swung his staff in a weak arc, barely grazing the creature. The hit was pathetic, but Frank didn't back down. "Keep going! Don’t stop casting!" he shouted to others, even as his voice wavered.

Bob's chest tightened as he watched Frank fight, stumbling but refusing to give up. "He's actually... doing it. That guy can barely swing a staff, but he's putting himself on the line for them."

Meanwhile, nearby, Cooper was locked in his own battle. His hands crackled with fire magic, shooting bright, swirling fireballs through the air. They hit their targets with force, sending some of the decayed putty people stumbling back. Cooper's usually cocky grin was gone, replaced with a look of intense concentration. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he conjured another round of flames, but Bob could see it—Cooper was tiring. His fire burned bright, but it was flickering now, weakening with every spell.

But then, one of the putty creatures got too close. Cooper, distracted for just a second, took a hit to his side. The impact sent him crashing to the ground, blood oozing from a gash on his arm. He groaned, clutching the wound as he tried to push himself back up.

Vrog let out a deep, guttural laugh. "Your fire burns bright, but it's fleeting. Just like the rest of you," he said, his voice thick with mockery. He glanced around the battlefield, his green-glowing fists flexing. "You think you can fight decay, but all you're doing is delaying the inevitable." His laughter boomed, echoing across the courtyard, making the students pause, fear gripping their hearts.

Bob's stomach churned as he watched. "Well, this is bad. Really, really bad," he muttered to himself. His mind raced, trying to come up with a plan—anything that didn't involve him getting flattened by a decayed orc or flung halfway across the academy.

His fingers twitched and swallowed hard. "I can't just sit here anymore... They need help," he muttered to himself. His palms were sweaty, his breath shaky. "Okay, Bob, it's your time."

He took a deep breath and stepped out from the bushes, trying to stay low, but his nerves were on edge. His legs felt like jelly. His mind raced. "You've got this," he whispered. "You'll be a hero."

Stolen novel; please report.

He spotted one of the decayed putty people stumbling toward Frank, its limbs jerking like a broken puppet. Bob saw his chance for a surprise attack. He crept forward, winding up his hands to cast something—anything—that could help.

But just as he was about to make his heroic move, his foot slipped on a patch of mud.

A loud, unmistakable fart erupted from Bob, echoing across the battlefield like a horn of shame.

The courtyard went silent for a brief second. The decayed enemies turned toward the sound, their heads jerking unnaturally. The students, already battling for their lives, stopped mid-spell to gape in disbelief.

One wide-eyed student whispered, "Did... did that guy just fart in the middle of a battle?"

Another, holding her nose, grimaced. "Ugh, Bob..." she muttered, her voice filled with resignation.

Even Frank, who was barely standing, glanced over at Bob with a look that was half disbelief, half exhaustion. He rolled his eyes, then turned back to the enemy, too tired to react any further.

Bob's face flushed bright red. "Oh come on!" he blurted, scrambling to recover. "Right. Enough stalling. Time to go big." His embarrassment quickly shifted to determination as he raised his hands, focusing all his mana. This was it—his chance to show he wasn't just the walking disaster everyone thought he was.

He was about to cast his most powerful spell.

Suddenly, a familiar ding echoed in his ear.

"New Achievement Unlocked: Stealthy Flatulence! +5 Stink Points! Keep sneaking, User!" P.U.M.A. chimed, its cheery voice painfully out of place.

Bob groaned, swiping the notification away with a swipe of his hand. "Seriously, P.U.M.A.? Now? I'm trying to save lives here!" He muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes before refocusing. "Alright, let's do this."

With a surge of energy, Bob thrust his hands forward. The air around him crackled with magic, and suddenly, a swirling vortex of foul-smelling wind and poop exploded into life. His Poo-nado roared into existence, a tornado of brown, putrid chaos spinning wildly across the courtyard.

The decayed enemies were sucked into the vortex, their stiff, jerking bodies flung into the air like ragdolls. They tumbled through the sky, covered in muck, as the tornado tore through the battlefield. Muck splattered across everything—the ground, the walls, the trees, even a few unlucky students caught in its path.

Bob's Poo-nado spun with ferocious power, the wind howling and the stench making everyone gag. It was chaos, but it was effective.

Vrog, who had been watching the battle with a sneer, suddenly recoiled as the stench hit him full force. His sneer contorted into a furious snarl. "What is this revolting magic?!" he growled, stepping back from the swirling tornado. His glowing green eyes flared with rage as they locked onto Bob. "You... You're the one behind this filth?"

Bob grinned nervously, standing awkwardly in the midst of his own mess. "Uh, yeah... Surprise?"

Cooper, still lying on the ground, stared in stunned silence. His usually confident expression was replaced by sheer disbelief. "Did Bob just...?" he muttered, too shocked to finish his sentence.

Frank, bleeding and barely able to stand, glanced over at Bob, and a weak chuckle escaped his lips. "Looks like Bob's got a few tricks up his sleeve after all."

Just as Bob’s Poo-nado started to die down, he felt the pressure building inside him again. “Okay, let’s not waste time,” he muttered, swiping open his P.U.M.A. interface. With a quick flick of his fingers, he spent 100 Stink Points on the evolution of Scorching Brown Blast. “Machine gun-style rapid-fire poop. Let’s see how this goes.”

The upgrade kicked in immediately. Bob’s hands tingled, and a new power surged through him, ready to be unleashed. His eyes locked onto Vrog, the towering decayed orc, who was still glaring at him with a mix of fury and disgust. "Alright, time to bring the pain," Bob whispered, raising his hands and preparing to unleash the new spell.

Just as he was about to fire off the rapid bursts of poop magic straight at Vrog, the academy gates swung open with a booming creak that echoed across the courtyard. The chaotic battlefield seemed to freeze for a moment, every eye—Bob's included—turning toward the entrance.

Gabriel, the paladin of the White Order, rode in on a gleaming white horse. His armor was so polished it practically sparkled, glinting in the sunlight like he'd been waiting for just the right moment to make an entrance. His helmet, adorned with golden wings, caught the light, making him look like some kind of angelic warrior. Behind him marched the priests of the White Order, their spotless white robes somehow untouched by the chaos around them, faces solemn and stern.

Gabriel struck a pose on his horse, raising his shimmering sword high into the air, and called out in a voice so deep and heroic it practically echoed across dimensions. "In the name of justice, we shall purge this corruption from the academy!" His voice boomed with righteous authority, making the air around him almost shimmer with holy energy.

The students and enemies alike paused, momentarily mesmerized by the dramatic entrance. The decayed creatures even seemed to hesitate, as if considering whether or not they were supposed to fight someone that... shiny.

Meanwhile, Bob, still standing in the middle of his still swirling Poo-nado, his hair slightly mussed from the wind and his robes splattered with muck, looked at Gabriel's glowing figure with a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

"Great," Bob muttered under his breath, wiping some more dirt from his face. "Here comes Mr. Perfect on his glowing horse to save the day." He crossed his arms, the remnants of his Poo-nado still going lazily around him. "Fantastic," he added sarcastically. "Because that's exactly what we needed—a paladin with a built-in spotlight."

Bob couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as he watched Gabriel, effortlessly heroic, riding in to steal the show. "That should be me," Bob grumbled to himself. "But noooo, I get the stink spells."