CHAPTER 68: THE ARCHWAY OF APPETIZING ANSWERS

The croissant labyrinth loomed around us, its rune-carved walls pulsing like a bakery gone rogue, casting flickering light on the sticky, crumb-strewn paths. The air was heavy with butter, sugar, and the ever-present threat of doom, making every step feel like a bet against a baker’s curse. I clutched the Heart of Glimmerfen, its loaf-shaped glow throbbing like it was shouting, Don’t mess this up, Cecil! The Wyrm’s Quill buzzed in my hand, its light dancing like a firefly drunk on icing, ready to unleash more pastry chaos. In my pocket, the Scone of Secrets pulsed, its golden, raisin-studded warmth humming like it held the key to everything. My coat was a catastrophe—torn, singed, glittering like a disco ball that had lost a fight with a bakery apocalypse—but I felt a fire, like my old Loafbearer powers were merging with the quill’s sugary insanity. I was Cecil Dreggs, the guy who’d once dropped a scone and accidentally started a tavern riot that became a local ballad. If I could survive flying croissants and a scone riddle, I could conquer this labyrinth and maybe prove I was more than a walking disaster.

My crew stumbled along, weapons out, looking like they’d rather be at a tavern than dodging pastry traps. Lilith spun her scythe, her red eyes glaring at the runes like they’d personally insulted her lineage. "Cecil, if you trigger another trap, I’m tying you to a croissant and leaving you for the next monster." Her smirk was sharper than her blade, but there was a flicker of grudging respect, like she was starting to think I might survive the day.

Vorren hulked forward, his knife gleaming like it was ready to carve the labyrinth itself. "If we die, I’m taking that orb, that scone, your coat, and whatever’s left of your reputation." His growl echoed, but he stayed close, like he almost believed in me.

Jex, coated in sugar, syrup, and croissant flakes, whimpered like a kid in a haunted bakery. "No snacks, no weapons, just buttery doom! I’m not cut out for this!" His voice cracked, echoing like a dropped plate.

Yvra strode forward, her dress still pristine, defying the labyrinth’s mess like it was a personal challenge. "Cecil, if you lead us into another disaster, I’ll have you exiled to a pastry dungeon and buried in royal paperwork." Her tone was cold, but her eyes lingered on the Heart and scone, intrigued.

Mister Fog floated above, sipping tea that smelled like burnt promises and cryptic omens. "The Heart and scone are linked, Cecil, but your focus is a crumbling biscuit. Channel it, or we’re all pie filling." His calm was maddening, but it kept me grounded.

Sir Thrain, covered in flour, syrup, and croissant bits, raised his lance. "For the crown’s buttery honor!" He charged, tripped over a path, and fell into a croissant pile with a SPLAT. "Dishonorable pastries!" he groaned, helmet sinking like a ship.

Sir Gorrim, his mustache a sticky mess of sprinkles and crumbs, waved his broken hilt. "By valor’s grace!" He slipped, landing in croissants with a WHUMP. "Cursed flakes!" he wheezed, flailing like a knight in a buttery swamp.

I twirled the quill, forcing a grin despite the crew’s groans. "Chill, team! We’ve got the Heart, the scone, the quill, and my legendary Doughnut Lord vibes. This labyrinth’s just a snack!" The quill buzzed, giving me a surge of confidence, though my stomach churned like I’d eaten a cursed tart.

Lilith snorted, her scythe scraping a rune with a SKREEE

. "Your ’vibes’ are why we’re dodging croissants, you fool." Her tone was sharp, but her eyes softened, like she was starting to believe I might not die today.

The labyrinth’s paths twisted, runes pulsing faster, like they were mocking my existence. The floor was a sticky mess of crumbs, syrup, and butter, making every step a gamble. I clutched the Heart, its glow warm, and felt a surge, like Valthorne’s power was whispering, You’re not a total failure. The scone pulsed, the quill buzzed, and a faint scent of cinnamon rolls filled the air, which was either a good sign or a trap ready to ruin us.

We reached the glowing archway, its pastry-carved frame shimmering like a portal to a baker’s paradise—or nightmare. The runes pulsed, and a spectral figure appeared—a baker in ancient robes, holding a glowing rolling pin like a scepter. His eyes glowed like twin ovens, and his voice boomed, shaking the chamber. "WHO DARES PASS THE ARCHWAY OF APPETIZING ANSWERS? PROVE YOUR WORTH, OR FACE THE WRATH OF THE DOUGH!"

I gulped, clutching the Heart, quill buzzing, scone humming. "Cecil Dreggs, Doughnut Lord! I’ve got the Heart and the Scone of Secrets, and I’m here for answers!" The Heart pulsed, and I felt Valthorne’s power, like it was cheering me on.

The baker’s eyes glowed brighter. "Answer my riddle, or perish! What is baked with heart, yet broken by fear?"

I blinked, scratching my head. "Uh... a loaf?" The quill flared, and the scone warmed, like I was close but not quite there.

The baker’s rolling pin glowed. "Close! Speak truer!" The runes flared, and cinnamon rolls—massive, gooey, and glowing—flew from the walls, spinning toward us with a WHOOSH-WHOOSH. I ducked, a roll grazing my coat with a SPLAT.

"Cinnamon roll attack?!" I yelped, quill flaring. I pointed it, and a giant donut materialized, blocking a roll with a THUD. The crew scattered, dodging flying pastries.

Lilith slashed a cinnamon roll, icing splattering with a SQUELCH. "Cecil, you’re cursed! Fix this!" Her scythe spun, cutting through rolls like they’d insulted her.

Vorren punched a roll, sending it flying with a SPLAT. "Who builds this garbage? I hate pastries!" He dodged, his bulk moving with surprising grace.

Jex caught a roll, nibbling it. "It’s... amazing?" He ducked another, squealing. "But deadly!" He dove behind a rock, icing on his face.

Yvra’s dagger pinned a roll to the wall with a THWACK. "Cecil, end this before we’re buried!" Her glare was deadly, but her lips twitched, like she was fighting a laugh.

Mister Fog sipped his tea. "The quill channels your will, Cecil. Focus, or we’re roll fodder." His calm steadied me.

Thrain swung his lance, hitting a roll that exploded with a SPLORCH. "For valor!" He tripped, rolling into a pile with a SPLAT. "Curse these pastries!" he groaned.

Gorrim flailed, his hilt waving. "By the crown’s grace!" He slipped, landing in rolls with a WHUMP. "Cursed icing!" he wheezed.

I raised the quill, Heart glowing, scone pulsing. "Okay, riddle time! A loaf baked with heart—love, confidence—holds strong, but fear makes it crumble!" The quill flared, the scone glowed, and the Heart pulsed, blinding. The baker nodded. "Worthy!" The cinnamon rolls stopped, and the archway glowed brighter.

I stepped forward, clutching the scone and Heart. Visions hit me—Valthorne baking for peace, his power in the Heart, scone, and quill. My power. The archway shimmered, revealing a path to freedom.

Lilith slashed a roll, sparks flying. "Cecil, you’re not dead. Shocking."

Vorren grunted, punching a roll. "Don’t get cocky."

Jex ate a roll, grinning. "You’re the best, Cecil!"

Yvra’s dagger pinned a roll. "Absurd, but effective."

Mister Fog sipped his tea. "The Heart and scone are one. Be cautious."

Thrain and Gorrim shouted, "For the crown!" and fell with a SPLAT and WHUMP. "Dishonorable icing!" Gorrim wheezed.

The archway hummed, runes flaring. I led the way, clutching the Heart, scone, and quill, ready for whatever came next. The Doughnut Lord was just getting started.