CHAPTER 57: THE GREAT BREAD-OFF

Quest Update: "Vythrax’s Trial of Bread and Bravery"

Objective: Bake a loaf so epic it impresses a dragon who’s basically Gordon Ramsay with scales.

Reward: Passage to the Heart of Glimmerfen, maybe some dignity.

Failure: You get to be the dragon’s toasty side dish.

The stone platform in Vythrax’s lair looked like a medieval baking show set, complete with a flour-dusted slab, a pile of yeast that smelled suspiciously alive, and a rolling pin the size of a small tree. The dragon loomed over us, its furnace-eyes glowing, its tail twitching like a cat watching a doomed mouse. I stood there, Wyrm’s Quill in hand, its glow pulsing like it was trying to tell me something—probably "You’re screwed, Cecil." My crew surrounded the platform, looking less like a baking team and more like a group of parolees forced into a cooking class. I was supposed to bake a loaf to impress a dragon who’d probably eaten bakers better than me for breakfast. No pressure.

Lilith leaned against her scythe, her glare sharp enough to slice dough. "Cecil, if you burn this lair down, I’m using your coat as kindling."

Vorren cracked his knuckles, eyeing the yeast pile like it owed him money. "This is stupid. I’d rather punch the dragon."

Jex, clutching his lone apple, whimpered. "Can we just throw fruit at it? Apples are... kinda like bread, right?"

Yvra adjusted her dress, somehow still pristine despite the cavern’s dust. "Cecil, if you embarrass me in front of a dragon, I’ll ensure your next quest is cleaning the royal stables."

Mister Fog floated above, sipping tea that smelled like burnt optimism and vague disappointment. "Baking is alchemy, Cecil. Focus. The quill may guide you, but your hands are... questionable."

Sir Thrain, covered in ash, raised his lance. "For the crown’s honor, we shall bake!" He swung dramatically, knocking over a flour sack with a POOF, coating himself in a white cloud. He coughed, helmet wobbling. "Dishonorable powder!"

Sir Gorrim, mustache still ribbon-tangled, waved his broken hilt. "By valor’s grace, we triumph!" He tripped over the rolling pin, landing in the yeast pile with a SQUELCH

. The pile bubbled, and he screamed, "It lives!"

I twirled the quill, forcing a grin. "Relax, team. I’ve got this. I may not have Loafbearer powers, but I’ve made toast. How hard can this be?" My confidence was 90% bluff, 10% quill glow, and 0% actual skill.

Vythrax’s tail slammed the ground with a BOOM, sending coins skittering. "Begin, worm! Craft a loaf worthy of my hoard, or face my flames!" Its jaws opened, a glow in its throat promising a very crispy Cecil.

I approached the platform, quill in hand, its glow warm against my palm. The flour pile was taller than me, the yeast bubbled like it was plotting, and the rolling pin looked ready to squash my dreams. I grabbed a handful of flour, sneezing as it dusted my face with a PFFT. "Okay, bread. Let’s do this."

Lilith snorted. "You don’t even know what yeast does, do you?"

"It... makes things puffy?" I guessed, tossing flour onto the slab. It billowed, coating Jex, who yelped and dropped his apple. The apple rolled into the yeast, which gurgled like a swamp monster.

Vorren grabbed the rolling pin, hefting it like a club. "Move, Cecil. I’ll knead."

"No way!" I snapped, snatching it back. It was heavier than my self-esteem, and I staggered, nearly dropping it on my foot with a THUNK. "This is my trial!"

Yvra sighed, twirling her dagger. "You’re going to bake us into extinction."

I ignored her, dumping yeast into the flour. The quill glowed brighter, and a faint buzz tickled my chest, like the Loaf’s power was whispering, You got this, idiot. I mixed with my hands, the dough sticking like emotional baggage. "See? I’m a natural!"

Mister Fog floated closer, tea steaming. "Your technique is... chaotic. But the quill’s glow suggests intent. Channel it."

I nodded, focusing on the quill. Its light flared, and the dough shimmered, turning golden like it was auditioning for a bakery commercial. I kneaded harder, my arms burning, the dough squishing with a SQUORP. "This is my moment!" I shouted, only to slip on spilled flour and face-plant into the dough with a SPLAT.

The crew groaned. Thrain, still flour-coated, tried to help, only to knock over a water jug with his lance, flooding the platform with a SPLASH. Gorrim, stuck in the yeast, flailed, yelling, "Betrayed by bubbles!" The yeast pile erupted, coating him in gooey sludge.

Vythrax laughed, shaking the cavern. "Pathetic! Is this your offering, worm?"

I peeled myself off the dough, spitting out flour. "Not done yet!" I grabbed the rolling pin, slamming it down with a WHAM. The dough flattened, but a chunk flew, hitting Lilith’s scythe with a PLOP. She glared, her eyes promising murder.

"Cecil," she growled, "focus, or I’ll knead you."

I shaped the dough into a lumpy loaf, the quill’s glow pulsing like a heartbeat. I pictured the perfect bread—crusty, golden, the kind that’d make a dragon cry tears of joy. The quill hummed, and the loaf grew, swelling to the size of a small table. "That’s it!" I yelled, stepping back as it glowed like a holy baguette.

Jex peeked out. "Is that... allowed to be that big?"

Vorren grunted. "It’s gonna explode."

Yvra’s dagger twitched. "If it explodes, Cecil, you’re cleaning it."

Mister Fog sipped his tea. "Ambitious. Possibly catastrophic."

Thrain raised his lance, flour falling off him. "A loaf of valor!" He swung, accidentally hitting the platform, cracking it with a CRUNCH. Gorrim, free from the yeast, waved his hilt. "By the crown’s grace, it rises!" He tripped, falling into the dough with a SQUISH.

Vythrax’s eyes narrowed. "Impressive size, worm. But size is not flavor. Bake it!"

A stone oven rose from the floor with a RUMBLE, its flames licking like hungry tongues. I heaved the loaf toward it, staggering under its weight. "Help!" I gasped, and Vorren grudgingly lifted the other end, muttering about "useless bakers." We shoved it in, the oven roaring with a FWOOSH.

The cavern filled with the scent of baking bread, warm and yeasty, like a hug from a grandma who’d definitely judge your life choices. The quill glowed brighter, and I felt that buzz again, stronger now. Maybe I wasn’t powerless. Maybe I was... Bread Man.

The oven dinged, a sound so out of place I half-expected a chef to pop out. I pulled the loaf, now golden and massive, its crust crackling with a CRISP

. The crew stared, even Lilith looking mildly impressed.

Vythrax sniffed, its nostrils flaring. "Acceptable... for now. Present it!"

I dragged the loaf forward, quill raised like a conductor. "Behold! The Loaf of... uh, Destiny!" I was making it up, but it sounded cool.

The dragon leaned down, its breath scorching my hair. It bit into the loaf, the CRUNCH echoing like a collapsing castle. It chewed, eyes half-closed, then rumbled, "This... is not terrible. You pass the first trial."

Quest Update: Trial 1 Cleared!

Reward: You’re not dead yet.

New Objective: Survive Vythrax’s second trial, which probably involves more than bread.

I pumped my fist, quill glowing. "Told you I’ve got this!"

Lilith rolled her eyes. "You got lucky. Again."

Vorren snorted. "That loaf’s bigger than your brain."

Jex hugged his apple. "Can we leave now?"

Yvra sheathed her dagger. "Don’t get cocky, Cecil. You’re still a liability."

Mister Fog sipped his tea. "The quill’s power grows. But so does the danger."

Thrain, flour-coated, raised his lance. "A triumph for the crown!" He tripped, knocking over a bone pile with a CLATTER. Gorrim waved his hilt. "By valor’s grace!" He slipped, landing in the flour with a POOF.

Vythrax’s tail slammed the ground with a BOOM. "Enough! The second trial begins!" The platform sank, replaced by a glowing circle of runes. In its center stood a table with a single item: a butter knife. "Wield the Blade of Banality," Vythrax rumbled. "Slay my shadow, or perish."

A shadowy dragon, half Vythrax’s size but twice as creepy, materialized, its eyes glowing like bad decisions. I grabbed the butter knife, quill in my other hand. "A knife? Against that?"

Lilith smirked. "You’re definitely screwed now."

But the quill buzzed, and a faint glow spread to the knife. I wasn’t done yet. Time to stab a shadow and prove I was more than a baker with a glowstick.