The leader cracked his knuckles, the sound eg like a death knell in the moonlit night. "I'll give you o ce to surrender aurn the papers," he decred, his voice a chilling blend of authority and annoyance.
Tristan tilted his head, then mogly cupped a hand to his ear. "Did you hear that, Yve? O ce," he mimicked, voice dripping with exaggerated dread.
Yvolt sighed dramatically, her rapier glinting as she casually flipped it. "Oh no, Tan. Whatever shall we do?" She lowered her voice to a spiratorial whisper. "Surrender?"
Tristan smirked, notg an invisible Force arrow onto his bow. "Surrender? Us? Nah."
The leader's eyes narrowed. "Enough." He lunged forward, his speed a blur, sword aimed to cleave Tristan in half. Tristan twirled away, light as a breeze, and replied, "Whoa there! At least take me to dinner first!"
Meanwhile, Yvolt stepped in just after sshing one of the pursuer’s neck, thrusting her rapier with surgical precision at the leader. The leader parried with a snarl, the csh of steel ringing out. "ry," he growled, retaliating with a ferocious overhead swing. “Hrrah!”
Yvolt dodged, using her free hand to wag a fi him. "Tsk, tsk. Watch the temper. Anger causes wrinkles."
The leader spun, and this time, his bde arced dangerously close to Yvolt's neck. She ducked, rolling away with a pyful ugh. "Close, but no cigar!"
Tristan leaped in just after throwing three daggers the other pursuers threw at him back to them, killing them instantly, pretending to draw ba arrow. The leader scoffed. "You’re threatenih an imaginary bow?"
Tristan winked. "Oh, you’ll wish it was imaginary." With a sudden burst of energy, he released his hand, and an arrow of Forergy shot forth. The leader twisted, barely dodging, the projectile whizzing past to explode against a rooftop ey.
The leader’s posure cracked for a moment. "You really are the worst," he muttered.
"Aw, he likes us," Yvolt quipped, ung a flurry of rapier strikes just after killing another four pursuers around them. The leader defended with grit, his bde g, sparking, and tering with brutal precision.
Tristan, meanwhile, fired another Force arrow, f the leader to sidestep. "Teamwork makes the dream work," he said, and the arrow the leader dodged killed two other pursuers.
The leader snarled, lunging at Tristan again. "Your tricks won’t work forever!"
Tristan backflipped, almost effortlessly. "Good thing we only hem to wht now," he taunted. Yvolt slid ba, sword aimed at a gap in the leader’s defense just after killing another one.
"Surprise!" she decred.
Their oppo was impressively strong, but the dynamic duo had a singur goal: eliminate every st one of them. It was eaining to watch their leader’s rage rise as his men dropped like flies, dispatched like cheap fireworks on a holiday.
As Yvolt dealt with her charming adversary, Tristan was busy pying a game of human darts with his arrows, ensuring no man could escape—because heaven forbid one of them gets away to tell the tale.
Just as the leader decided to halt Tristan’s little sport, Yvolt graciously blocked him every time, like a bou an exclusive club.
“Now, let him clear some space,” Yvolt quipped, but just as Tristan finished off the st unfortunate soul, their leader’s frustration boiled over.
Suddenly, with a growl that could wake the dead, he caught up to her speed and—BLAM!—punched her square in the face.
“Yve!” Tristan shouted, expressing genuine .
Yvolt, however, was sent s off the roof, her body flying through the air. Amazingly, her face remained unscathed, thanks to the impressive Force shield she had learned retly.
Tristan didn’t waste a single moment. He asded toward the leader, keenly aware of the ominous bck aura ing around him like a particurly gy shadow. And just before Yvolt's body graced the ground with its iable thud, Tristan murmured, “I love you—”
The leader didn’t blink, yet somehow, the man who’d just lunged with such misguided bravado had swiftly transformed into the woman he’d sent tumbling off the roof faster than a magi’s trick.
Yvolt smirked, seamlessly stepping into Tristan's role, and hurled her rapier at him with a triumphant cry. “HAAAAAAA!”
CLASH!!!
They switched.
For a moment, the leader, caught off guard, stumbled backward, his mind frantically attempting to process this absurd turn of events. A Force arrow, plete with a mana string, zoomed to the roof, yanking away the man who’d lu him.
Their eyes sparkled with hearts, painted a lovely shade of pink, as both grinned like cats who just caught the ary.
This was the Love Potion Duo.
“The famous switch of the lovestruights… I finally wit in the flesh,” the leader sighed, taking in the grim sight of his fallen men. Here he stood, outnumbered, as the odds shifted to a disheartening 2v1.
Ah, the curse of fame—their prowess as renowned as their he Love Potion Duo, with their signature fir, had etched their absurdity into the annals of popur culture with a move both romantid incredibly annoying.
Yet, the mystery surrounding their potion remaiantalizingly unsolved. Was it genuinely a love potion, or some bizarre co whipped up by a mad stist? The world may never know.
The only telltale sign was the delightfully ridiculous transformation of their eyes into pis upon drinking—pure poetry, if poetry were a fight chraphed by a particurly whimsical pywright.
Until this very moment, all anyone had witnessed was their inexplicable ability to sces and poses mid-battle—an utterly infuriating dance.
Individually, eaight was formidable, but together? Well, they were suspected to be more synized than a world-css ballet troupe.
But both khis man wasn’t merely as strong as Morien.
“Think Gawain?” Tristan asked, his voice dry, almost as if he were questioning a bad wine pairing.
Yvolt tilted her head slightly. “Gawain’s still stronger,” she replied, as if discussing the weather.
The leader of the pursuers chuckled, though the sound was more a low rumble of annoyahan genuine humor. “I see. pario the ranks of the illustrious Round Table?” His lip curled in a sneer. “I’m fttered.”
Having overheard earlier that he had been likeo Morien, and now Gawain, he should have felt honored. But the pariso beh him, like being measured against mere mortals. How revolting.
The air around him thied as his bck aura began to seep and swirl, growing ever more oppressive. “I suppose I should take pride,” he tinued, voice dripping with pt, “sin your eyes, I’ve climbed from seventh rank to fifth.”
The world had never issued a formal statement that the Round Table’s numbering matched their power. But the whispers persisted. After all, the number one was the Absolute Tyrant. wo, the nightmare named Gahad. And the rumors, as rumors do, had stuck.
“But now that you’ve aowledged I’m far strohan you, the eleventh and twelfth, why do her of you look the least bit terrified?” His words dripped with disbelief.
Tristan and Yvolt exged gnces, a slow grin f beh their masks. Then they ughed. It was a ugh full of mockery, like they had just heard the world’s most predictable joke.
“Our titles don’t reflect our strength ranking,” Tristan said, the expnation sounding more like he was hum a child than fag a lethal oppo. “And even if they did, that’s our individual strength.”
Yvolt bared her very human, very unimpressive e. “Together, we’re about as strong as Landevale or Percival. Give or take.”
“As we’ve been trying to say…”
“Unless you’ve got Gahad-level nightmares packed in your punches…”
“We’re going to kill you.”
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Happy New Year, my lovely chaos-addicted readers! ?
Another year has passed, and somehow, despite all odds, we’ve survived—me with my endless plot twists and you with your inexplicable patience for them. Truly, a match made in literary purgatory.
Here’s to a brand-new year of questionable decisions, morally grey characters, aional whipsh! May your TBR piles topple, your OTPs thrive (unless I decide otherwise), and your hearts tio ehe tibreaks I sprio my stories like glitter on a crime se.
In all seriousness, thank you for stig with me through every twist, turn, and typo. Your support means the world, and I couldn’t ask for a better group of small, thoughtful and demure readers. Let’s make 2025 even more chaotid unfettable together. Cheers!
- Sugar
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