The wagon rattled toward Glimrfen like a drunk skeleton, each bump threatening to send us into the nearest ditch. I lounged in the back, glowing faintly from the First Loaf’s power, feeling like the gods had personally baked into a hero. My crew—Lilith, Vorren, Jex, Yvra, Mister Fog, and the King’s walking disasters, Sir Thrain and Sir Gorrim—were less impressed. Lilith drove, her scythe glinting like it was ready to divorce from my ego. Vorren sharpened a knife that could probably cut through a mountain. Jex clutched his apple sack, muttering about dragons eating him first. Yvra sat upfront, her princess glare sharper than ever, probably regretting every life choice that led her here. Mister Fog floated above, sipping tea that slled like burnt hopes. Thrain gripped the reins, his backward helt wobbling like a bad decision, while Gorrim polished his broken sword hilt, muttering about "scabbard treachery."
I couldn’t help myself. I was the all powerful, all knowing, all seeing, all eating Loafbearer, after all. I pointed at a passing boulder, and—POP!—it turned into a giant muffin, studded with what looked like edible glitter. A nearby crow took one look, grabbed a chunk, and flew off, probably to start a muffin cult, have a bunch of mbers and co back to worship ... because, why not? I deserved it
"Cecil," Yvra snapped, her voice like a whip dipped in royal disdain, "stop turning the countryside into a bakery. We’re supposed to be stealthy, not a walking pastry parade."
I grinned, flexing my glowing fingers. "Relax, princess. I’m just warming up for the dragon. Bet I can bake it into submission..... or just bake it.. it will be imnselyeasy, now that I think of it.. I can just shazam.. then poof... dragon pop pie"
Lilith snorted, not looking back. "You’ll bake us into an early grave."
Vorren grunted, his knife glinting. "Dragon’s not the problem. It’s your ego. It’s bigger than my biceps."
Jex whimpered, hugging his apples. "I just want to live long enough to smuggle sothing that’s not cursed."
Mister Fog sipped his tea, eyeing . "The Loaf’s power is unstable, Cecil. Hubris invites chaos. Like adding too much yeast to a dough."
I waved him off, summoning a small scone just to prove I could. It appeared with a PING, perfectly golden. I tossed it to Gorrim, who caught it, then dropped it when Thrain shouted, "Poison!" and knocked it out of his hand. The scone rolled into the dirt, where a squirrel promptly claid it.
"See?" I said, leaning back. "I’m unstoppable. Dragon’s gonna wish it stayed in its cave when I roll up with a bread tsunami... drop icing all over him.. her?.. it?"
Yvra responded, "her"
"I doubt that"
Thrain turned, his helt tilting like a drunk lighthouse. "Silence, Loafbearer! Your frivolous magic mocks the crown’s honor!" He thrust his lance for emphasis, accidentally poking a tree. A branch snapped, smacking him in the face with a WHAP.
Gorrim stood, trying to look noble despite his custard-stained cloak. "Indeed! We are knights of valor, not bakers!" He swung his broken hilt, lost his balance, and fell into the wagon’s hay pile with a muffled THUD.
I laughed so hard I nearly fell out. "You two are gonna scare the dragon with your... valor."
Yvra muttered, "I should’ve let the knights handle this. Lazy or not."
The road dipped into a valley, Glimrfen’s hills glowing faintly in the distance, their peaks wreathed in smoke. I was about to summon another loaf for the vibes when Lilith yanked the reins, stopping the wagon. "Trouble," she said, pointing.
Ahead, a mob blocked the road—dozens of robed figures in dragon-scale cloaks, chanting and waving torches that flickered green. Their leader, a lanky woman with a crown of bones, held a staff topped with a dragon claw. "Hail, intruders!" she bellowed. "We are the Scaleborn, keepers of Glimrfen’s dragon! Surrender, or face the Wyrm’s wrath!"
I hopped out, glowing like a human lantern. "Oh, good. A cult. My favorite." I cracked my knuckles, feeling the Loaf’s power surge. "Step aside, or I’ll bury you in biscuits."
The leader laughed, raising her staff. "You? A glowing fool? The dragon eats fools for breakfast!"
Lilith gripped her scythe. "Let handle this."
I waved her off. "Nah, I got this. Watch the Loafbearer work." I raised my hands, ready to summon a loaf so epic it’d make the cult cry. The power built, my fingers sparking. I pictured a mountain of sourdough, big enough to crush their morale. I clapped, and—
Nothing.
The glow flickered. My fingers went dim. The buzzing in my chest sputtered like a candle in a storm. I clapped again. Nada. Not even a crumb.
"Uh," I said, shaking my hands like a broken toy. "Hang on."
The Scaleborn leader cackled. "Your magic fails you, fool!" She slamd her staff, and the ground shook. A massive shadow lood behind her—a dragon, scales glinting like molten iron, eyes glowing like hellfire. It roared, a sound like a furnace exploding, sending a wave of heat that singed my eyebrows.
"Cecil!" Yvra shouted, leaping from the wagon. "Do sothing!"
"I’m trying!" I yelled, clapping desperately. The Loaf’s power was gone, like soone had unplugged my soul. I felt... normal. Weak. Like a guy who’d eaten too many muffins and forgotten how to run.
Lilith charged, scythe flashing, slicing through a cultist’s robe. Vorren roared, tackling two Scaleborn into the dirt. Jex threw an apple, which bounced off the dragon’s snout with a sad plop. Thrain shouted, "For the crown!" and ran forward, only to trip over his own lance and roll downhill with a CLUNK-CLUNK. Gorrim swung his broken hilt, missed, and fell into a bush, yelling about "dishonorable foliage."
The dragon lunged, its jaws snapping inches from my face. I dove, landing in the mud with a SQUELCH. My crew fought like demons, but without my Loafbearer powers, I was just... Cecil. The guy who once lost a fight to a chicken.
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