CHAPTER 61: GLAZE OF GLORY

Quest Update: "Vythrax’s Last Stand"

Objective: Convince a dragon that doughnuts are better than eating you.

Reward: Survival, maybe a cool title like "Doughnut Lord."

Failure: You’re a dragon’s dessert.

Vythrax stood like a mountain of scales and bad attitude, a massive doughnut plastered to his chest, rainbow sprinkles cascading with a TINKLE-TINKLE that echoed through the Vault of Crumbs. His furnace-eyes blinked, caught between fiery rage and a bizarre fascination with the glazed monstrosity clinging to his scales like a sugary barnacle. The air was thick with the scent of sugar, smoke, and the yeasty ghost of my earlier baking trial, mingling with my crew’s palpable disbelief. I clutched the Heart of Glimmerfen, its loaf-shaped orb pulsing like it was cheering for chaos, and the Wyrm’s Quill buzzed in my hand, vibrating like it was ready to launch a full-scale bakery rebellion. My coat was a wreck—torn, singed, glittering like a festival float that had crashed into a dumpster fire—but I felt a spark, like my old Loafbearer powers were waking up, mixed with the quill’s wild, sugary energy. I was Cecil Dreggs, the guy who’d once dropped a croissant and accidentally sparked a village riot. If I could turn a dragon into a dessert critic, I could rewrite my destiny. Maybe.

Lilith lowered her scythe, her smirk teetering on the edge of approval, which was scarier than Vythrax’s roar. "Cecil, if you pull this off, I might not carve your name into a tombstone. Might." Her red eyes glinted, but there was a flicker of respect, like she was shocked I wasn’t dead yet.

Vorren cracked his knuckles, eyeing the doughnut like it had personally insulted his ancestors. "I still want to punch that lizard. And you for this pastry nonsense." His knife gleamed, ready to carve something—dragon, doughnut, or my ego.

Jex, sugar-dusted and apple-less, bounced on his toes, eyes wide as dinner plates. "That doughnut’s bigger than my house! Can we eat it? Please? I’m starving!" His voice squeaked, bouncing off the rune-carved walls like a panicked echo.

Yvra sheathed her dagger, her pristine dress defying the cavern’s grime like it was allergic to dirt. "This is absurd, Cecil, but... intriguing. Don’t ruin it with your usual incompetence." Her tone was icy, but her eyes flicked to the doughnut, betraying a hint of curiosity.

Mister Fog floated above, sipping tea that smelled like burnt dreams and cryptic prophecies. "The Heart and quill amplify your will, Cecil. You’re rewriting reality with pastries. Don’t botch it, or we’re all toast." His misty form shimmered, unfazed by the chaos unfolding below.

Sir Thrain, tangled in a bone pile, raised his lance, flour flaking off him like a blizzard. "For the crown’s sugary honor!" He charged, tripped over a coin, and rolled into a stalagmite with a JANGLE. "Dishonorable wealth!" he groaned, his helmet wobbling like a drunk turtle on a skateboard.

Sir Gorrim, his mustache a chaotic tangle of ribbon and yeast, waved his broken sword hilt. "By valor’s grace, we triumph!" He slipped on ash, landing with a POOF in a flour pile. "Cursed powder!" he wheezed, flailing like a fish in a floury sea.

I raised the Heart, the quill glowing like a star plucked from a discount sky. "Vythrax! You like that doughnut? I’ve got more! Let’s make a deal!" My voice was bold, but my knees wobbled like jelly in a hurricane. The Heart pulsed, and I felt Valthorne’s power—baking for peace, not war. If a king could unite kingdoms with bread, maybe I could pacify a dragon with pastries.

Vythrax shook off the doughnut with a SPLORCH, sprinkles flying like tiny comets across the vault. "You dare bribe me with pastries?" His roar shook the cavern, coins skittering with a CLINK-CLANK that sounded like a jackpot gone wrong. But he sniffed the air, his massive nostrils flaring, and hesitated, his eyes locked on the sugary mess dripping down his scales. "Speak, worm, before I burn your insolence!"

I grinned, quill buzzing like a swarm of caffeinated bees. "You’re the Eater of Hopes, right? How about eating some hopeful desserts instead? I’ll bake you a hoard of doughnuts—chocolate, glazed, sprinkled, you name it!" The Heart glowed brighter, and I felt a surge, like my old Loafbearer powers were back, but sweeter, like they’d been dunked in frosting.

Vythrax’s tail lashed, cracking a stalagmite with a BOOM that sent crumbs flying. "You think sweets sway me? I’ll burn you and your treats to ash!" His jaws opened, a fiery glow building in his throat like a volcano about to erupt, promising a very crispy end.

I pointed the quill, heart pounding like a drum solo at a festival. "Not so fast, lizard!" The quill flared, and a shower of doughnuts rained down—chocolate-glazed, powdered, jelly-filled, even a few with bacon bits—pelting Vythrax like a sugary meteor storm. THWAP-THWAP-THWAP! One hit his snout, jelly oozing with a SQUELCH that sounded like a defeated pudding. He roared, but it was less murderous, more... baffled?

"Cecil!" Lilith snapped, dodging a falling doughnut that splattered with a SPLAT on the floor. "Stop feeding him and fight like a normal person for once!" Her scythe slashed a chunk of rock, sparks flying with a CRACKLE.

Vorren chucked a bone, hitting Vythrax’s scales with a THUNK. "Bread’s not enough, idiot! Punch him or something!" He flexed, his muscles practically growling as he prepared to charge.

Jex caught a powdered doughnut, nibbling it mid-battle like a sugar-fueled lunatic. "It’s... really good?" he mumbled, then ducked as Vythrax swiped, claws grazing the air with a WHOOSH. "Okay, bad idea!" he yelped, diving behind a stalagmite with a SCRAMBLE.

Yvra sighed, tossing her dagger with deadly precision. It grazed Vythrax’s scales with a SCRAPE, sparking faintly. "Cecil, this is madness. End it before I end you." Her voice was cold, but her lips twitched, like she was fighting a smile.

Mister Fog sipped his tea, steam curling like a warning. "Madness with potential. The quill channels Valthorne’s intent—peace through creation. Keep going, Cecil." His calm was infuriating, but it steadied me.

Thrain, climbing out of a coin pile, swung his lance. "For sugary valor!" He hit a rune, sparking with a ZZT, and tripped again, rolling into a bone pile with a CLUNK. "Curse this rubble!" he groaned, his helmet spinning like a top.

TO BE CONTINUED