Spoon Me Once, Shame on You. Spoon Me Twice, We’re at War
I was woken by a spoon.
Not metaphorically. Not emotionally. Literally. A silver spoon with glowing runes slapped me across the cheek and shouted, "DEFEND YOURSELF, DUELIST!"
Naturally, I screamed.
Then I rolled off the bed, tangled myself in the blanket like a cocooned idiot, and slammed face-first into a floor that smelled faintly of enchanted lavender and despair.
"Good morning, Master Echo!" chirped a high-pitched, vaguely metallic voice from my bedside. "You have been selected as Primary Dueling Target for the Academy Inter-Dormitory Breakfast Honor Trials."
"I—what?"
"You have exactly twelve minutes to prepare for armed culinary engagement."
Inner Me: What happened to naps? Naps were safe. Naps didn't come with silverware violence.
I sat up groggily, blinking the sleep (and spoonslap) out of my eyes. My dorm room was... different. Someone had decorated it with war banners. Bright ones. With slogans like:
"Team Spoonlight: WE STIR WITH HONOR"
"KAEL IS OURS, BACK OFF!"
"Echo Rights Now!"
"Who did this?" I croaked.
A knock came at the door. No, not a knock. A bang. Followed by the shrill cry of an enraged soprano and the unmistakable sound of a ladle being unsheathed.
"KAEL REINHARDT," shouted Seraphina. "CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON. YOU HAVE BEEN CHALLENGED."
"...By who?!"
"Everyone," Belladonna said from somewhere behind the door. "Literally. Every dorm. Even the Headmaster placed a bet."
I opened the door wearing yesterday's robe, two socks that did not match, and the facial expression of a man spiritually allergic to mornings.
On the other side stood four women.
Seraphina, gleaming in armor and holding a silver ladle the size of my head.
Belladonna, sipping tea like it was poison and holding a butterknife with terrifying poise.
Aureline, dressed in formal robes with a scroll marked "Spoon Trial: Magical Clause Edition."
And Mirielle, quietly holding a tea tray and an expression that said "I'm not mad, I'm just prophetically disappointed."
"Why," I said slowly, "does it feel like I'm about to be ceremonially stirred?"
"Because you are," Seraphina said.
Enter the Madness: Spoon Duel, Explained Poorly
Apparently, after my minor divine courtroom incident and major emotional monologue, the Academy decided to restore "interpersonal equilibrium" through the ancient rite of Breakfast Combat.
Each dorm now had the right to challenge the Echo—me—for symbolic representation in the upcoming Dormitory War Games.
In simpler terms: I had to duel with spoons.
Magically enhanced, prophecy-sanctioned, fate-glitched spoons.
And because the universe hates me, the Echo Clause also stated that I could not refuse a public duel.
Because that would be "emotionally negligent" to the magical community.
"You're all insane," I whispered.
"We're invested," Mirielle corrected gently.
"Emotionally and financially," Aureline added. "The betting pool has reached six digits."
"Rin summoned a commemorative cookbook," Belladonna said. "She's calling it Fifty Shades of Spoon."
Inner Me: I have officially lost control of my life.
Scene: The Arena of Spoon Combat
The arena had once been a peaceful breakfast courtyard. Now it was a theater of culinary warfare.
Floating platforms. Cheering crowds. Banners flapping dramatically in the wind. A stand full of magical faculty exchanging popcorn and soul wagers.
Fluffernox wore a referee hat. It didn't fit. He wore it anyway.
I was given a vest. It said "Spoon Me Gently." I refused to wear it.
Too late. It self-equipped.
Belladonna appeared beside me.
"Your first opponent is the Underdorm," she said calmly.
"What's an Underdorm?"
"A basement cult of disenfranchised necromancers who have adopted you as their breakfast messiah."
"They what?!"
"They believe your chaotic aura blesses their cereal milk."
"I—I don't even eat cereal—"
Too late.
The first duel had begun.
A necromancer in robes emerged from the mist holding a ladle etched with runes of dread.
"Echo Vessel," he hissed. "Face me in the Name of the Spooned Dead!"
"I literally just woke up—"
BOOM.
A fireball exploded behind me.
My spoon vibrated.
A magical sigil appeared midair: DUEL BEGIN.
Kael vs. Underdorm Necros: The Breakfast Apocalypse
I dodged a barrage of sugar skulls.
I parried a ghost ladle with a flick of my cursed spoon.
I screamed a lot.
Fluffernox summoned toast golems.
Someone started playing violin.
And then—
I accidentally reflected a necro-blast through a prophecy glyph.
Time slowed.
Aureline shouted, "OH NO—NOT THE BUTTER LOOP—"
The glyph shattered.
A rift opened.
And from that rift—
A second me walked out.
Wearing a crown. Holding a spoon made of obsidian. And smiling like he knew all my secrets.
"Well, well," he said. "Guess breakfast just got interesting."
---
Next Time on Kaelverse:
Chapter 45 – Me, Myself, and Spoon: The Rise of Kael 2.0
Alternate Echo arrives.
Romantic tension triples.
Prophetic spoons gain sentience.
One of the Kaels may or may not try to seduce himself.
Yes, you read that correctly.
Bring a napkin.
And maybe a therapist.
You'll need both.