They arrived at the entrance to the final room.


    As Grantt pushed open the last door, he remained fully focused, proceeding with utmost caution, like a special agent executing a high-stakes raid. At the instant of entry, he even performed a deft combat roll to the right, braced for any potential ambush.


    Erring on the side of prudence, Benjamin hung back a step, maintaining a safe distance.


    And yet, as the door swung wide… nothing. No attack came.


    Perplexed, Benjamin advanced a few paces, peering into the room from the threshold. There, he spied Dick Fur standing shoulder to shoulder with a hulking young man. The moment Benjamin''s gaze found them, they turned as one to face him.


    Judging by their stony mien, they''d been awaiting this confrontation.


    The air fairly crackled with menace.


    A chill rippled down Benjamin''s spine. The urge to simply turn tail and beat a hasty retreat was nigh overpowering.


    He knew, with grim certainty, that in the wake of the Chamber Pot Incident, Dick''s enmity toward him would have only grown more implacable. Knowing what he did of the boy''s character, Dick would stop at nothing to exact his revenge.


    And given the present circumstances, well…


    It didn''t take a genius to divine Dick''s true purpose in attending these war games. He was here for Benjamin, full stop.


    A proper pickle, this.


    Just as the tension between Benjamin and Dick reached a fever pitch, the charged silence stretching taut as a fraying bowstring, a piercing cry shattered the moment like a hurled brick through a plate glass window.


    "Holy Hand Grenade!"


    In a flash, Grantt darted into the room, falling back on his tried and true tactic. Twin orbs flew from his hands with unerring accuracy, striking Dick and his hulking companion square in the chest.


    "…"


    The giant glanced down at the ball lying at his feet, then shot a questioning look at Dick. He wavered, seeming to war with himself, but ultimately forwent any dramatic show of expiration. As for Dick, he remained stock still, not so much as twitching a muscle, his eyes fixed on Benjamin with the burning focus of an exam proctor.


    Grantt faltered, thrown off his stride.


    "Hey, no fair! You''re breaking the rules!" he snarled, voice thick with righteous outrage.


    "Oh."


    Dick uses Scathing Indifference


    It''s super effective!


    Grantt''s will to fight drastically falls!


    Benjamin could only sigh inwardly at the sight.


    Looked like it fell to him to get to the bottom of this.


    Turning to Grantt, he forced an air of casual ease. "Guess it''s on me to handle these two. No worries, I''ve got this." And with that, he took a few steps forward, attention shifting back to Dick.


    Those few strides filled him with the heady rush of imminent badassery as he stared down his foe.


    "So. What''s your angle here?" The challenge rang out, clear as a clarion call.


    But even as he cast himself in the role of stalwart hero, he was frantically pinging the AI for intel. "The big guy with Dick. What''s his deal?"


    The AI''s reply was prompt and concise: "That''s his younger brother, Cunt Fur. A savant, blessed with prodigious strength since birth. Alas, a severe bout of fever at the age of three addled his wits. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but fiercely obedient to his kin. His size and raw power are enough to give most pause."


    Benjamin gulped audibly, his sense of foreboding ratcheting up to eleven.


    Dick alone didn''t faze him - this wasn''t the Lither estate, and the boy had no elders to fall back on here. He was no real threat, for all his noodle-armed bluster.


    But with a bruiser like his brother in play… that complicated matters considerably.


    Well. Best to suss out Dick''s game before borrowing any more trouble.


    "My angle? Playing dumb doesn''t suit you." There was something almost cartoonishly villainous about Dick''s delivery, an overwrought menace coloring his words. "I mean to pay you back in full for every ounce of humiliation you''ve heaped upon me!"


    Quick as a snake, his hand darted to some unseen inner pocket, returning with - of all things! - a chamber pot clutched in his white-knuckled grip.


    "…"


    So, what, he''d taken to carrying one on his person at all times since the fateful incident that had sparked their feud?


    Man, talk about holding a grudge.


    The sheer single-minded zealotry of the gesture, the unwavering commitment to retribution… in a strange way, it almost commanded a certain begrudging respect.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "Get a load of this guy," the AI marveled, sounding faintly awestruck in spite of itself."I''d be on my guard if I were you, chief. This one''s no common madman. If I had to guess, he''s got some sort of enchanted storage artifact on him. Heck, for all we know, he could be another poor sap yanked from his home realm like yourself."


    "… Come again?"


    The AI''s scorn could have stripped paint. "Where else would he be pulling a honking great chamber pot from, his prison wallet?"


    "… I mean, not to kinkshame, but…"


    The arrival of the chamber pot had taken all the wind out of the moment''s sails, the mounting tension dissipating in an instant. Only Dick stubbornly clung to his villainous gravitas, his face a veritable kabuki mask of overwrought menace. Benjamin had to stifle a snort of mingled mirth and exasperation. In his own way, Dick cut a faintly pitiable figure. Not that Benjamin had any intention of taking it easy on him, even so.


    "Right, yeah, no. I think we''re done here. Clearly these two have no interest in playing by the rules, so let''s call it a day, shall we? C''mon, Grantt, time to head home." And with that, he turned back to his brother, the unspoken ''leave the weirdos to their weird'' plain in his tone.


    Grantt stood there, dumbfounded.


    Benjamin had no choice but to press on. "What''s the point of sticking around? They''ve made it clear they''re not playing along. Let''s just head home."


    Grantt snapped out of his fugue, and though a note of reluctance colored his acquiescence, he nodded all the same. "Yeah, alright. Let''s bail." Even so, he couldn''t resist shooting Dick a parting glare, as if to condemn him for sullying the sanctity of the game.


    Benjamin, for his part, had no interest in prolonging the drama. He turned on his heel, eager to make tracks.


    Anything to escape this scene before the chamber pot''s reek truly saturated the air.


    "Freeze! Not another step!" Dick''s cry rang out, sharp and desperate. He couldn''t squander this golden opportunity. "Cunt, stop them! Don''t let them leave this place, you hear me?!"


    The lummox beside him merely stared, slack-jawed and uncomprehending. It took several more rounds of enraged bellowing and frantic gesticulating from Dick before Cunt cottoned on, lumbering toward Benjamin with a determined, if vacant, expression.


    Benjamin blanched at Cunt''s turn of speed.


    Holy hell, since when could the big galoot move that fast?


    Even as he wavered, torn between holding his ground and beating a hasty retreat, Grantt burst into action with a fierce cry: "I''ve got this lug! Leave him to me!"


    And just like that, he was charging headlong to meet Cunt''s advance. As the giant''s meaty paws stretched out to snare him, Grantt launched himself airborne, a blur of motion too swift to track. In a feat of acrobatic prowess, he somehow contrived to scissor his legs around Cunt''s neck in a flash.


    Cunt lost his balance and the pair crashed to the floor in a graceless tangle, each struggling to gain the upper hand. Cunt bucked and thrashed in a vain attempt to dislodge his foe, while Grantt tightened his vise-like grip, locking the two in a stalemate.


    Benjamin could only gape slack-jawed at the display. He wasn''t sure whether to applaud Grantt''s slick fighting moves or lambast his chuuni recklessness.


    Dick too seemed paralyzed with shock, clearly blindsided by Grantt''s ability to grapple Cunt to a standstill through raw, brute strength. But the fires of enmity could not be so easily quenched. Shaking off his stupefaction, he fixed his baleful gaze on Benjamin once more.


    Benjamin met Dick''s stare, a sinking sensation welling in his gut.


    With Grantt entangled in his wrestling match, Benjamin''s hopes for a clean getaway had been soundly dashed. He could hardly abandon his brother to this fracas, after all.


    What a headache.


    Dick''s hand, still clutching that accursed chamber pot, began to rise with ponderous menace. He was the spitting image of that iconic shot of a soldier, grenade raised aloft in trembling fingers, ready to martyr himself for the cause.


    "Oh, hell no!"


    A chill raced down Benjamin''s spine.


    He dropped into a crouch, bracing to dodge.


    "No dodging!" Dick''s voice scaled up in panic. "You so much as twitch, and I''ll brain ''em with this!"


    He swung the chamber pot around, taking aim at the grappling forms of Grantt and Cunt.


    Grantt blanched at the threat, his grip faltering just long enough for Cunt to buck free with a mighty heave. But rather than pressing his advantage, Cunt barreled straight toward Benjamin, single-minded in his pursuit of his original directive.


    Dick practically crowed with glee. "That''s it, Cunt! Grab the bastard!"


    Benjamin stared down the oncoming juggernaut, his mind whirling in frantic calculation. There was no time to evade.


    "Shit shit shit!"


    The situation was deteriorating by the second. He didn''t have the luxury of conscious thought. In an eyeblink, Cunt was looming over him, meaty mitts a hair''s breadth from seizing their prize.


    Pure instinct took over. Benjamin''s foot lashed out in a desperate kick.


    For an instant, time seemed to freeze, the air in the corridor gone preternaturally still.


    "Ah. So that''s the secret to his speed. He''s accustomed to taking such… wide strides," the AI mused, its interjection jarringly placid given the circumstances.


    Wide… strides?


    Benjamin was still lost in the fog of panicked reflex.


    Gradually, a sense of wrongness pervaded his awareness. Cunt''s hands hovered scant centimeters from him, yet their advance had been arrested. But how…?


    Bewildered, Benjamin cast his gaze downward.


    His left leg was still cocked, poised at the apex of its arc between Cunt''s tree-trunk thighs - he could feel a phantom tingle in his instep, as if it had connected with something solid mid-kick.


    "M-mommy…"


    The words gusted from Cunt''s lips in a breathy whimper. Tears began to well in the giant''s eyes, tracing glistening trails down his contorted features.


    Benjamin''s leg retracted as if burned, his retreat accompanied by several shaky backsteps. He could only stare, flummoxed, as Cunt teetered on the cusp of a full-blown bawling session. An unfamiliar pang of contrition twisted in his gut.


    "I''m sorry, man. That wasn''t… I didn''t mean to…" The words rang with unaccustomed sincerity. Benjamin couldn''t recall the last time an apology had felt so heartfelt on his lips.


    Mercifully, despite the occasional sniffle, Cunt managed to keep the waterworks mostly in check. Slowly, tremulously, his hands crept down to cup his injured assets.


    Still blubbering, still mewling entreaties to his absent mother, Cunt began to shuffle toward the castle''s exit. His gait was more of a hobble, each step an effort. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, no one lifted a finger to assist - or impede - his retreat.


    He departed without fanfare, without acknowledgement, the corridors echoing with his piteous whimpers and the low, keening wail of a child crying out for a parent.


    And then, silence.


    Only once Cunt''s figure had vanished beyond the castle gates did the spell break. Dick burst into frenzied exhortations, demanding his brother return at once. But his words fell on deaf ears. No sign remained of his loyal attack dog.


    Benjamin and Grantt turned to face Dick in eerie synchrony, a palpable menace in their level gaze.


    The bottom dropped out of Dick''s stomach.


    "W-what do you think you''re doing? Don''t get cocky, Benjamin! I''ll never let you off the hook, you hear me?!"


    He brandished the chamber pot anew, gripped in a white-knuckled fist.


    Exchanging a wordless glance, Benjamin and Grantt dropped into menacing crouches. As one, they began to advance on Dick from opposing angles, slow and implacable.


    "Don''t do anything stupid, now. Just put down the weapon nice and easy. I''ll say it again - drop the weapon, you''re surrounded. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say can and will be used against-"


    Benjamin''s spiel cut off abruptly as the standoff took a sudden, calamitous turn.


    "Don''t move! One more step and I''ll… I''ll blow your damn head off!"


    Voice pitching wildly with hysteria, Dick''s offhand darted into his sleeve - and returned clutching the grip of a pistol. Keeping the chamber pot raised in his dominant hand, he leveled the barrel at Benjamin with a trembling arm.