In Westmore City, Arid, Bimoth, Cassius, Anita, and Draven strolled through the bustling amusement park, taking in the vibrant sights and sounds. “It’s less advanced than Auroria Dominion,” Cassius remarked, his gaze sweeping over the modest attractions.
A local woman approached them, speaking in a foreign tongue. Cassius opened his mouth to respond, but his confusion was evident. “Uh, sorry, we don’t—”
Before he could finish, Anita stepped forward confidently, replying fluently in the woman’s language. The two exchanged a brief conversation, ending with shared laughter. As the woman walked away, Arid tilted his head curiously. “How do you know Slutopian?” he asked.
Anita flinched slightly before flashing a nervous smile. “Oh, uh…I studied a bunch of languages. You know, just a hobby.” She chuckled awkwardly.
The group exchanged a glance but didn’t press further, shrugging it off as they continued down the path. “Let’s try a rollercoaster,” Cassius suggested, his tone a bit hesitant. It was clear he wasn’t used to hanging out with them, and his awkwardness hung in the air like an unspoken truth.
Anita clutched her stomach. “A rollercoaster? Those things make my stomach churn,” she muttered, shaking her head.
“You can be our bag holder!” Bimoth said with a grin, tossing his bag to her. Cassius and Arid quickly followed suit, dropping their bags into her arms. Anita groaned as the weight nearly pulled her to the ground. Struggling to keep up, she trailed behind the group as they eagerly made their way to the ride.
The group finally settled on one of the park’s most iconic rides: The Sky Spiral, a towering roller coaster with sharp drops, loops, and a dizzying corkscrew section. They strapped themselves in, each reacting differently as the ride operator checked their harnesses.
Arid sat upright, his hands already gripping the safety bar tightly. “This doesn’t look so bad,” he said, though his twitching fingers betrayed his nerves.
Bimoth, taking up an entire seat on his own due to his massive frame, leaned back casually. “It’s just a ride. How bad could it be?” he muttered, though the coaster’s height made him glance upward nervously.
Cassius, sitting next to Bimoth, adjusted his gloves meticulously, trying to act as though he wasn’t worried. “I’ve fought in actual battles. A ride isn’t going to shake me,” he said, but he avoided looking directly at the first steep incline.
Anita, surprisingly calm, smiled as the operator announced the ride’s start. “You all look like you’re about to meet your maker,” she teased, earning a side glance from Arid.
Draven, meanwhile, had his arms crossed and looked completely unfazed, though his tail twitched slightly—a telltale sign that even he wasn’t completely at ease. “Don’t pass out, kids. I won’t be catching you.”
The ride began to climb, the chain lift clattering loudly as it pulled them higher and higher. The entire group grew silent as the city of Westmore came into view, sprawling beneath them like a miniature model.
“Whoa… it’s beautiful up here,” Arid said softly, momentarily forgetting his nerves.
“That’s until you’re hurtling toward it,” Cassius muttered under his breath, gripping the safety bar tighter.
Suddenly, they reached the peak. The world seemed to hold its breath for a second. Then—
WHOOSH!
The coaster plummeted down the first drop, gravity pulling them into a freefall. Anita threw her hands up, laughing with exhilaration, while Arid screamed, “Why did I agree to this?!”
Bimoth’s deep voice rumbled as he let out a loud, startled “WHOA!”—his attempt to remain calm completely shattered.
Cassius, his usual composed self, let out an involuntary yell, gripping the bar so tightly his knuckles turned white. “This isn’t a battle—it’s torture!”
Draven, on the other hand, remained stone-faced throughout the chaos, his dragon wings flickering instinctively as if ready to take flight. “You all are embarrassing,” he muttered, though a hint of a smile tugged at his lips.
The coaster twisted through loops, sending everyone into bouts of screaming and laughing. Anita turned to Arid mid-loop and yelled, “You’re holding up great!”
“Don’t talk to me right now!” he shouted back, his hair sticking out wildly from the wind.
By the time the ride finally slowed and rolled back into the station, the group looked utterly disheveled.
“That… was awful,” Cassius said, stumbling out of the car and fixing his hair.
“No, that was awesome!” Anita countered, beaming with excitement.
Bimoth rubbed his head. “I think I blacked out for a second.”
Arid sat on a nearby bench, still catching his breath. “Never again… Okay, maybe one more time.”
As the sun began to set, the park’s neon lights flickered on, casting a vibrant glow over the paths. The group shared a quiet moment near the park’s central fountain, each of them lost in their own thoughts as the water sparkled in the fading light. Arid tossed a coin into the fountain, his eyes following its path as it sank. Cassius leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, his gaze drifting over the lights and the crowd. Anita and Bimoth lingered by the food court, the scent of popcorn and fried snacks drifting through the air as they casually shared their favorite sweets. The rhythmic sound of carnival games and laughter in the background set a peaceful, almost surreal tone to the evening.
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As night deepened, they found themselves gathered near a carousel, the soft chime of its music echoing in the cool air. Arid and Bimoth took turns riding the wooden horses, their smiles wide and carefree. Anita leaned against a fence, observing the scene with a serene smile, her earlier energy now replaced with a more tranquil contentment. Draven finally joined the group, his earlier cool detachment softened as he gave a rare, approving nod to the merry chaos around them. Their bonds, forged in the heat of battles and trials, seemed momentarily forgotten in the simplicity of the moment. Together, they savored the quiet magic of the amusement park, feeling a rare sense of peace as the night sky stretched overhead.
In the heart of Gluttony Kingdom, the queen sat in the shadows, her face obscured by the dim light as she glared at the trembling chef before her. The air was thick with tension, and the sound of her voice, cold and thunderous, shattered the stillness. “You dropped a chopped-up body in the food… for Slutopia?” Her fury was palpable as she stood, her presence overwhelming, and with a swift motion, she grabbed the chef by the neck, lifting him off the ground with ease. His eyes bulged in panic as his hands scrabbled helplessly at her unyielding arm, gasping for air.
“Please… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it—just give me a chance to retrieve the food!” he begged, his voice a strangled whisper as he struggled beneath her grip. But the queen’s expression remained impassive, her cold gaze seething with disappointment rather than anger. With a heavy sigh, she released him, dropping him to the floor with a harsh thud. The chef coughed and gasped, still reeling from the chokehold, as she turned her gaze toward him, the weight of her words heavy and final.
“Chef, I had plans for you—great plans,” she said, her voice eerily calm now. “But you’ve made a mockery of me.” Her eyes narrowed with ruthless determination. “Retrieve the food and leave Gluttony, or I will ensure you never find peace again.” The chef scrambled to his feet, nodding frantically, his mind racing as he stumbled toward the door. “And if I ever have to track you down…” she added with a chilling smile, her voice like ice, “you won’t make it far.” Without another word, the chef dashed out of the castle, his heart pounding with both fear and resolve.
The chef rushed back to his restaurant, his heavy boots pounding against the cobblestones of Gluttony Kingdom. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with a thick neck and muscular arms, a result of years of physical labor in the kitchen. His short, dark hair was spiked with sweat, and a scar ran down his left cheek, the mark of a man who had seen more than his fair share of violence. His once-immaculate chef’s apron was now stained with blood and grime, a reflection of the dirty business he conducted behind the kitchen doors. As he stormed into the establishment, he ignored the friendly greetings from the workers, his dark eyes narrowed with fury, his mind consumed by the queen’s wrath.
The moment he passed through the kitchen’s threshold, the atmosphere shifted. The other cooks stiffened, sensing the anger that rolled off him in waves. Without warning, the chef roared and, with a single, brutal swing of his arm, sent one of the cooks crashing into the stone wall, the impact reverberating through the room. “HOW DID SHE FIND OUT?!” he bellowed, his voice a low growl that made the other workers flinch. He turned on the next cook, throwing them into a pile of pots and pans with a force that sent clattering metal echoing through the kitchen. His anger was seething, palpable, as he paced back and forth.
His business, which funded his lavish lifestyle, was far darker than the queen ever knew. The chef had been cutting up bodies—those discarded by the queen—and harvesting their organs to secretly mix into the food he served, all while selling the drugs that were laced into the dishes to unsuspecting buyers. His mind raced with fury as he surveyed the room, his hands shaking with adrenaline. “Which one of you put body parts in the food?!” he demanded, his voice laced with venom. In a flash of rage, he smashed a plate over one cook’s head, watching as they collapsed to the floor. The kitchen was now a battlefield, the tension thick enough to slice through the air. The chef knew one thing for certain—he would find out who had betrayed him, and there would be hell to pay.
A few moments later, in the Wrath Kingdom, Nomak sat at a worn, wooden table in their modest, weathered home. The air smelled faintly of damp stone and burnt coffee, the latter swirling in his chipped mug as he took a measured sip. A folded letter lay in his hand, its official seal unmistakable. He squinted at the words, muttering to himself, “Why does the queen of Gluttony need me now?”
Before he could reflect further, he felt a familiar presence loom behind him—a towering, imposing frame that radiated raw strength. Leonardo’s low chuckle broke the silence as her diamond-encrusted wand grazed his neck. Sparks danced against his skin, and a jolt of electricity made him flinch. “It’s the anniversary of you finding me in that alley,” she murmured, her voice a blend of amusement and menace. “All beaten and bloody. Why don’t we celebrate the right way?”
She pressed the wand harder, sending another pulse through him, and perched herself in his lap with ease. Nomak winced, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t lose his composure. He reached a steady hand toward the wand, his voice rasping. “You know the safeword.”
Leonardo smirked, her grip on the wand loosening just enough for him to choke out the word. “Diamond.” With a satisfied laugh, she released him, letting him gasp for air and clutch his neck.
“What are you reading?” she asked, snatching the letter from his hand before he could respond. Her eyes darted across the page, and her expression darkened. “That Gluttonous bitch wants you? On our day? Why the hell does she think she can summon you like some pet?” Her voice rose, echoing through the small home.
Nomak coughed lightly and straightened his posture, trying to regain control of the conversation. “It’s just some spy business,” he said, his tone calm despite her outrage. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”
As he moved to stand, Leonardo shifted her weight, her muscular build making her presence nearly impossible to ignore. She crossed her arms and glared at him, her tone laced with a growl. “You better be back soon. Or maybe I’ll pay Slutopia a visit myself—take control of it just for fun.” She finally stood, her frame casting a long shadow across the room, leaving Nomak to gather himself and the letter.
Back in Westmore, the group wandered the bustling streets, searching for a place to eat. Amid the rows of crowded restaurants, Anita stopped and pointed to a quiet, nearly empty diner tucked into a shadowy alleyway. “The other places are packed—let’s eat there!” she suggested with enthusiasm.
Arid’s face twisted in disgust as he took a step back. “Are you serious? That place reeks of rats. You can practically see the green aura of bad decisions hovering around it,” he said, gesturing toward the dingy windows and peeling paint.
Draven’s eyes lit up at the mention of rats, his expression shifting into one of almost childlike excitement. “Rats?!” he exclaimed, leaning forward as if ready to investigate.
Arid sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right… dragons are technically reptiles. Of course you’d be weird about this.”
Bimoth, who had been quiet up until now, rubbed his stomach with a casual grin. “I can eat,” he said simply, ignoring the grim looks the others exchanged.
Arid rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he turned to Bimoth. “Who cares? Why are you even here?” he asked, his tone dripping with irritation. Bimoth’s blank, pupil-less gaze shifted downward, and for a moment, an unspoken tension hung in the air.
