Duel, Disaster, and the Spoon of Destiny
There comes a moment in every magically glitch-infested, prophecy-haunted teenager's life when they must ask:
"Why am I holding a spoon like it's Excalibur while preparing to duel the emotionally complex heir of a noble house who may or may not be flirting with me?"
Reader, that moment is now.
Location: The Duel Grounds, Six Hours After the Mask Incident
The sun blazed with dramatic timing.
The arena was packed. Nobles, professors, bored students with enchanted popcorn—it was standing room only. Someone had conjured a floating scoreboard that read:
KAEL vs. THE DUKE'S HEIR
One soul. One spell. One spoon.
Me: dressed in ceremonial Echo House dueling robes (slightly scorched), hair half-singed from a truth flare, mask of Echo still fused to my face like a very judgmental accessory.
Him: Perfect posture. Impossibly handsome. Smiling like he was both the executioner and the invited date to the funeral.
"This is a friendly duel," the officiator said.
We both nodded.
He immediately summoned a spectral blade the size of a canoe.
I held up my weapon.
It was a spoon.
The Spoon. Of Destiny.
Flashback: Five Hours Earlier – Echo House Basement
Zevran dragged me down into a chamber labeled "Relics That Won't Die Quietly".
"We need a weapon that won't glitch with the Mask," he said. "Something old. Stable. Possibly ridiculous."
A drawer groaned open.
Inside: a slightly tarnished, suspiciously glowing spoon.
Zevran whispered, "The Spoon of Destiny. Long buried. Mostly harmless. Last used during the Gravy War of 304."
I picked it up.
Lightning struck somewhere in the distance. A choir screamed.
The spoon pulsed in my hand like it had trauma.
"It has chosen you," Zevran said.
"Does everything do that now?!"
Back to the Duel
The duel began with fire.
Literal, magical fire.
He opened with a sweeping arc of phoenixflame, the kind that makes even fire mages go "okay that's unnecessary."
I blocked it with the spoon.
The Spoon glowed. Then sang. In Old Common.
The flame shattered.
Audience: gasps.
Mirielle: "Did Kael just counter Phoenixflame with a cutlery-based parry?!"
Belladonna (from the VIP rage seats): "I SWEAR IF HE WINS THIS—"
The heir tilted his head. Intrigued. "You continue to surprise me."
"I'm surprised I'm still alive," I replied, batting away a spear of light with what was essentially divine flatware.
He lunged. I deflected. He spun. I tripped over my own feet, flailed dramatically, and accidentally launched a glitch projection that tackled him midair.
The projection screamed: "FEELINGS ARE NOT STRATEGY!"
He blinked from the floor. "Did you just emotionally project onto me with a sentient ghost?"
I looked down at the spoon in my hand, which was now vibrating like it wanted a promotion.
"…Maybe?"
Meanwhile: The Mask of Echo Got… Involved
Just as I gained the upper hand—by which I mean I spun in a panic and accidentally caught his cape on fire—the Mask of Echo activated.
My surroundings bent sideways. The air rippled. Every version of me from the Reflection Core reappeared around the arena like unwanted motivational speakers.
One screamed: "BELIEVE IN YOURSELF."
One sobbed: "We peaked at 14."
One shouted: "KISS HIM."
I shouted, "I'M IN A DUEL."
Spectral-Me screamed louder: "EXACTLY."
The Spoon Ascends
The heir paused mid-lunge, distracted by the sheer absurdity. The spoon, sensing Narrative Opportunity, glowed with a vengeance.
Words etched themselves onto its surface:
"Let it be known: in the age of crowns and chaos, one fool with a spoon shall shift the fate of empires."
I blinked.
"Am I—am I the spoon guy now?!"
The Final Strike
He charged. I countered with a sweeping, two-handed spoon flourish I did not know I knew.
The Mask roared. The Spoon screamed. Reality hiccuped.
Our attacks collided in midair with a thunderclap so dramatic a nearby peacock passed out.
Silence fell.
We stood. Bruised. Breathless. Both of us half-glowing, half-on-fire, wholly confused.
Then he stepped back. Lowered his blade.
"…You win."
I stared.
"What?"
"I yield," he said, still smirking. "To the spoon. And maybe to you."
Cue the crowd losing their collective minds.
Aftermath: Echo House Chaos
Back at Echo House, everyone was arguing.
Belladonna: "He yielded?! TO KAEL?!"
Aureline: "Technically, to the Spoon of Destiny."
Seraphina: "Which Kael now owns. Which makes him an artifact-wielder."
Zevran: "Also the Mask bonded permanently. So he's now a glitch-cursed Echo vessel with a divine spoon and an active prophecy signature."
Belladonna: screams into cushion
Fluffernox: "We should get him a cape."
Later That Night: Kael, Alone with the Spoon
I sat on the Echo House balcony, legs dangling into moonlight, Spoon of Destiny propped on my shoulder, mask still glowing with secrets.
The stars were quiet. The mask whispered riddles I pretended not to hear. Somewhere, the Duke's heir was probably writing poetry or sharpening a very concerned sword.
"I did not sign up for this," I muttered.
The Spoon shimmered.
Then, softly, it whispered back:
"And yet… here we are."
At the End
Kael has survived:
A glamour disaster
Accidental flirting
Political sabotage
The awakening of a cursed Mask
The ascension of a relic Spoon
A high-stakes duel with romantic undertones
…And now holds two relics, a rising glitch signature, and the attention of multiple nations, factions, and possibly gods.
He still doesn't know how to flirt properly.
But he's getting dangerously close to becoming a main character.
Next Time on Kaelverse:
Kael meets the Council of Echo.
The System Tribunal arrives. Glitches intensify.
The Duke's heir invites Kael to his family estate.
Belladonna makes a move. Several of them.
Kael's parents finally show up. With secrets.
And the Spoon? It has a second form.