Bob's heart pounded like a drum solo, fast and wild, as Felina's monstrous grin twisted wider. Her claws—because, yep, they were claws now—flexed, and she crouched, ready to pounce.
"Okay, okay, fire spell... fire spell..." Bob muttered, waving his hands around like he was conducting an invisible orchestra. His brain felt like it was wrapped in fog. The potion's effects from earlier had worn off, and what had once been clear runes and precise spells now blurred into mush.
He tried to focus. "Flame... flicker? Flame... something... ignite?!" He thrust his hands forward, feeling a tiny spark build up in his fingertips.
A weak puff of smoke puffed out, floating up like a deflating balloon. Then... nothing. It was like a firework that forgot how to explode. Bob stared at his hands, eyes wide. "Oh no. Come on, not now!"
Felina's eyes lit up with cruel amusement. "Is that what you've been relying on? Pathetic." Her voice dripped with mockery, like she was savoring every word. "You're worse than I thought."
Bob's stomach churned, and he felt his confidence sink faster than a rock in a toilet. "This isn't happening," he whispered to himself, eyes darting around. "Think, Bob, think! What do you have left?"
Felina advanced, her claws gleaming, her grin sharp. Bob backed up, bumping into his desk. He was out of room—and options. There was only one thing left. The thing he'd sworn he wouldn't use again.
His eyes squeezed shut as he took a deep breath. "I didn't want to do this... but I've got no choice." He gritted his teeth, feeling the familiar, gross surge of power build in his gut. "SCATterscorch Spray!"
He thrust his hands forward, and a hot, steaming jet of liquid poop shot out of his palms. It was like a fire hose—except way smellier and a hundred times more disgusting. The muck splattered across the room, hitting Felina square in the chest with a wet, sloppy impact.
Felina's eyes went wide as she was drenched in the sticky, stinking mess. She let out a scream of pure disgust, clawing at her face as the foul-smelling spray clung to her. The poop didn't just stop there—oh no, it ricocheted, splashing across the walls, the ceiling, and even Bob's bed. The room turned into a war zone of muck.
"What... is this?! This isn't decay magic! This is revolting!" Felina gagged, trying to wipe the dripping mess from her face, but it only smeared more. Her once menacing expression crumbled into one of pure horror.
Bob watched, half horrified and half relieved. "Hey, it worked!" he blurted, almost proud despite the circumstances. Sure, it wasn't the fire spell he wanted, but it was something.
Felina's face twisted into a snarl, her eyes glowing with fury. She wiped a chunk of the muck off her cheek, hissing. "You'll pay for that!" And with a feral roar, she leapt at Bob, claws outstretched.
Bob yelped, barely ducking under her swipe. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. "Okay, new plan!" he shouted to himself, stumbling backward. He thrust his hands forward again, focusing all his panic into one desperate spell. "Scorching Brown Blast!"
Another stream of hot, gooey sludge shot out, this time with more force. The blast hit Felina mid-pounce, knocking her back. She landed with a wet splat, covered from head to toe in sticky, steaming muck. The smell hit the air like a punch to the face.
Felina gagged, her eyes watering as she tried to stand. "What... what is this nightmare?! You... you disgusting worm!" She clawed at the mess, but it only smeared more. Her menacing aura faded, replaced by pure horror and disgust.
Bob didn't waste any time. "Sorry, gotta run!" he shouted. Seeing her momentarily stunned, he spun around and sprinted for the door. His heart hammered like a drum, every muscle screaming at him to move faster. "Just get out! Get out now!" he repeated in his head, hand gripping the doorknob.
As he yanked the door open with all his strength, there was a tiny spark—so small, it almost went unnoticed. But the room, filled with methane from his earlier "study session," noticed. Oh, it noticed.
BOOM!
The air ignited in an instant. A fiery blast erupted, launching Bob backward like he'd been shot from a cannon. He flew through the open doorway, arms and legs flailing, before slamming into the hallway floor. He lay there, winded and covered in ash, ears ringing as smoke and a stench like no other filled the corridor.
His room—now a steaming, smoking mess—looked like the aftermath of a bomb.
Bob's ears rang like he'd just been slapped by a thunderstorm. He lay there, sprawled on the floor, blinking through the smoke that curled out of his room like a dragon's breath. The stench hung in the air, thick and sour, and he coughed, his throat burning.
"Felina?" he croaked, peering back at the gaping doorway. His vision blurred, and the smoke made it hard to see. He squinted, trying to catch any movement, any sign of her. But there was nothing—no shadow, no angry eyes. Just the echo of her scream still bouncing off the walls.
What just happened? Where did she go? Did I just... blow her up?
He pulled himself up, feeling the ache in his limbs. "I need to get out of here before this gets worse," he muttered. Every part of him protested as he stood, wincing from the pain of the blast. His legs felt like jelly, and his head spun, but he had to move.
Stumbling into the hallway, Bob was greeted by a crowd of students. They stared at him, their eyes wide with shock. One student covered her mouth, her face pale. "Is that the guy who just blew up his own room?" she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and horror.
Another student pinched his nose, gagging. "Oh, man, that smell... what did he eat?"
Bob brushed ash off his clothes, trying to look like this was all part of some big plan. But the embarrassment burned hotter than any spell he could've cast. Great, he thought, now I'm not just the walking disaster—I'm the guy who blows up his own room. He forced a shaky smile, though he knew he was fooling no one.
He glanced back at the doorway, still smoking and charred. His room was in ruins, and Felina was... gone. Her fate was a mystery, and Bob's head buzzed with everything she'd said. If she wasn't lying, then the academy really was crawling with the Lord of Decay's forces. I need to find Merlin. I'm way out of my depth here.
Determined, he started limping down the hallway, the stench trailing behind him like a cloud of shame. But he only got a few steps before P.U.M.A. dinged in his ear.
"New Quest Unlocked: Destroy Lord of Decay's Forces!" the system announced, the words flashing in front of his eyes.
"Bonus Quest: Stop the Lord of Decay Before It's Too Late!"
"Main Quest: Dethrone the Lord of Decay and Save the World!"
Bob froze. His eyes widened as he read the notifications, each one sounding worse than the last. "Wait... what? Me? Stop the Lord of Decay?!" His voice cracked. Panic clawed at his chest as he looked down at himself—covered in soot, muck, and who-knows-what else. "How am I supposed to dethrone anybody? I can't even keep my room from exploding!"
P.U.M.A. chimed in, its tone annoyingly cheerful. "You're the chosen one, User! You've got all the skills you need... just keep gathering those Stink Points!"
Bob groaned, dragging his hand down his face. "Great. Just great."