CHAPTER 90: CHAPTER 90: THE POWER OF THE PURR.

The sound that rumbled from the Manticore’s chest wasn’t the purr of a happy kitten. It was a deep, powerful vibration that shook the very stones of the room, making the teacups on Zazu’s tray rattle. The team just stared, their mouths hanging open. It was the sound of a mythical beast, a creature of pure, untamed rage, being completely and utterly baffled by a really good back-scratching.

The entire team was frozen in a state of pure, collective shock. The deep, rumbling purr wasn’t just a sound; it was a physical force that vibrated through the floor and up their boots, and into their very bones.

Pip, who had been hiding behind a scratching post, slowly peeked out, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and profound confusion.

Gilda, who had been ready to charge in for a heroic belly rub, just stood there, her hands still held in a "gentle but firm" rubbing position. Her warrior’s mind, which was trained to deal with dragons, demons, and goblin hordes, had no category for a purring Manticore. It had simply... shut down.

On the Scry-Screens in the Royal Arena, a wave of stunned silence washed over the crowd. The commentator’s professional voice cracked, his hushed whisper filled with pure disbelief. "Folks... is that... is that a purr? Get me a magical beast expert on the line, now!" He paused, clearly listening to someone. "Yes! Our experts are confirming," he said, with a voice now full of pure shock, "that Manticores... do not purr. This is, by all accounts, impossible."

But while the world was stunned by the impossible sound, inside the Creature Comfort Corner, the source of that sound was receiving a very professional spa treatment.

Kaelen, her face a mask of pure, assassin-like focus, continued her work. Her mind, honed by years of training, was a fortress of calm.

She wasn’t thinking about the danger. She was analyzing the task. ’The fur is thick here, near the base of the wings,’ she thought, her movements steady and practiced. ’The muscles are tense. A sign of high stress. The optimal brushing pattern is a long, firm stroke to release the tension.’ She was using her knowledge of anatomy not to find a weak point, but to find the perfect itchy spot.

The beast’s eyes, which had been burning with red-hot rage, were now half-closed in a state of pure, blissful confusion. Its scorpion tail, which had been twitching with deadly intent, now just lay on the floor, giving a soft, happy little thump-thump-thump against the moss.

’It’s working!’ FaeLina’s psychic voice was a squeak of pure, triumphant joy in my mind. ’The ’aggressive grooming’ tactic is a success!’

She then turned to the team, her voice a loud, excited squeak that echoed in the quiet room. "Okay, team, press the advantage! Deploy the full spa package!"

Zazu saw his opening. While Kaelen’s magical brushing had the Manticore’s full attention, he moved forward slowly, holding the silver platter like a sacred offering. The Manticore’s head turned, its eyes locking onto him with a flicker of suspicion. It let out a low hiss.

The Manticore’s hiss was met not with fear, but with the irresistible, magical aroma of Zazu’s "Gourmet Treat." The scent seemed to bypass its brain entirely and speak directly to its stomach, which let out a loud, embarrassing rumble. The Manticore’s proud, aggressive posture seemed to deflate. It looked at the treat, then at Zazu, then back at the treat. With a final, defeated snort, it snatched the morsel from the platter. The flavor was so good it made its eyes roll back in its head for a second, and its deep, rumbling purr returned, twice as loud as before.

FaeLina, seeing the beast was now distracted by the snack, saw her opening. "Pip! Clank! Phase three: Entertainment Duty!" she commanded, her voice a sharp, excited squeak.

Pip, who was still very much terrified but also determined not to let his team down, took a deep breath. He peeked out from behind the scratching post, saw the giant, purring monster, and gave the squeaky toy one last, hesitant squeeze for good measure. Then, he took the giant ball of enchanted, unbreakable yarn and gently rolled it across the floor.

The Manticore’s purr faltered. Its sleepy eyes snapped open, locking onto the rolling ball of yarn. Its predator brain, which had been blissfully shut down by the brushing and the snack, rebooted with a jolt. ’Threat? No... not a threat. Prey? No... it’s made of string.’ Its instincts were at war with each other.

Then, its inner kitten won the war.

The beast’s massive paw, tipped with claws that could shred steel, shot out. But the claws were retracted. It gave the ball a tentative, playful pat, sending it rolling gently back towards Pip.

Clank, seeing his cue, began to play the softest, most gentle lullaby on his internal music box. The quiet, tinkling notes were a perfect counterpoint to the Manticore’s deep, rumbling purr, which had now returned, louder than before.

The Manticore’s brain, which was wired for hunting and fighting, was now being completely overwhelmed. It was being brushed, fed a delicious snack, entertained by a toy, and serenaded with a lullaby, all at the same time. Its will to fight was rapidly dissolving, replaced by a new and deeply confusing feeling: the urge to take a nap.

The final phase of the plan was ready. It was time for the "Belly Rubs and Emotional Support" team.

"Gilda! Sir Crumplebuns! Move in!" FaeLina ordered.

Gilda, with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of her entire warrior’s career, got down on one knee. The Manticore, now lulled into a state of pure comfort by the brushing, the snack, and the music, had rolled onto its side, its massive, furry belly exposed.

’This is it,’ Gilda thought, her face have a mask of grim determination. ’My ancestors fought dragons and I have wrestled with giant monsters. But now, my greatest battle... is to rub a giant cat’s tummy without getting my arm bitten off.’

With the focus of a soldier defusing a bomb, Gilda began to give the mythical beast a gentle but firm belly rub. The Manticore’s purr grew even louder, a sound of pure and total joy.

Sir Crumplebuns, seeing that the beast was now fully pacified, heroically charged forward and gently placed a warm, woolen blanket over its massive, furry body. "REST NOW, BRAVE BEAST!" he boomed, in a surprisingly quiet whisper. "YOUR BATTLE WITH STRESS IS OVER!"

The combination of the brushing, the snack, the yarn, the lullaby, the belly rub, and the warm blanket was too much. The Manticore’s eyes, which had been half-closed, now fluttered shut completely. Its deep, rumbling purr softened into a series of soft, happy snores.

The wild, ferocious Manticore was fast asleep.

The timer on the Scry-Screen froze. The official time: Six minutes and twenty-four seconds.

The commentator was speechless. The crowd was silent. The judges just stared.

A golden notification flashed on the Scry-Screens for the entire, baffled kingdom to see.

[The wild Manticore has been successfully SUBDUED.]

[Method: Aggressive Pampering and Tactical Cuddling.]

[The Comfy Corner has set the official time to beat: 6 minutes, 24 seconds.]

The commentator finally found his voice, which was cracking with disbelief. "Six minutes and twenty-four seconds! Folks, The Comfy Corner has subdued a wild Manticore... by putting it to sleep! This is the most bizarre and, frankly, the most wholesome thing I have ever seen in my thirty years of commentating!"

He took a deep breath, trying to regain his professional composure. "And now," he announced, "it’s time for our next competitor! Hailing from the Blackrock Mountains, the reigning champions... the Obsidian Forge! Let’s see if their Magma Golem can beat a time of six minutes and twenty-four seconds!"

The portal in the arena shimmered, and a new, fiery gateway opened into a dungeon of pure lava and smoke. The crowd roared, ready for a real fight.

But in my dungeon, my team just looked at each other, a shared, disbelieving smile on their faces. They had done it. They had faced a ferocious beast and won, not with violence, but with the strange, powerful magic of pure kindness.

And the best part? The other dungeons had to use their most terrifying monsters. We had just won without even needing our own "champion beast," who was, at that very moment, probably back in the lobby trying to befriend a Dust Bunny.

___________

Author’s Note:

They did it! They actually did it! They subdued a wild Manticore with a spa day! This is, without a doubt, the greatest victory in the history of our dungeon.

Gilda’s reluctant internal monologue about her ancestors fighting dragons while she’s been assigned to tummy scratches is a highlight for me. A true hero.

But they’ve only set the time to beat! Now we have to watch as seven other, actual, terrifying monsters try to beat their ridiculously fast and wholesome time. Will their cozy strategy be enough to win the quarter-finals? Thanks for reading!