Let me explain something real quick: I'm not brave. I'm not bold. I once cried because my shadow looked slightly threatening during a thunderstorm.
So, standing in the middle of a muddy village while a sentient wall screamed at me about my adolescent browsing history was not my idea of a good time.
"YOU USED TO PRETEND TO BE A DRAGON IN THE MIRROR," it howled.
"I WAS TWELVE," I shouted back.
"AND TWENTY-TWO."
Yvra, the seven-foot flaming fiancé I apparently acquired by stepping foot in this cursed village, was watching me like a mother owl eyeing her next meal. She crossed her massive arms, which promptly ignited a nearby chair.
"You must slay the Wall," she said.
"Why?"
"It called me a Mid-tier Flame Demon with commitment issues."
"Sounds like it's just brutally honest."
She growled. The fire in her hair sparked up in frustration. "You don't understand. It said my wingspan was compensating for something."
Galrik pulled up a stool, munching roasted frog legs. "I like the wall," he said between chews. "It's got spunk."
The Wall's twelve eyeballs rolled toward him. "YOU STILL SLEEP WITH A STUFFED LIZARD NAMED GREG."
Galrik froze. "You promised you'd never tell."
Lilith had climbed onto the roof of a nearby outhouse and was filming everything on a crystal orb for "educational purposes." Her definition of education was legally questionable.
"Can I kill it?" I asked, turning to Mister Fog, who was once again sipping a beverage that definitely wasn't just tea.
"You could, yes," he said casually. "But keep in mind that the wall is a sacred artifact of ancient truth magic. Killing it would probably unleash centuries of bottled secrets and regrets onto the land."
"And if I don't kill it?"
"You have to marry the Flame Lady and rule Squelch."
"Where buildings are alive, the air tastes like soup, and I sleep next to a woman who arm-wrestled the sun once?"
"Precisely."
The Wall gurgled like it was trying to vomit up one last insult. Then it shrieked:
"YOU'VE NEVER FINISHED A BOOK IN YOUR LIFE."
Everyone gasped.
"Okay," I said, drawing my knife, "this bitch dies tonight."
Battle preparation in Squelch meant three things: oil, very bad ideas, and a priest who didn't ask questions.
The priest was named Father Slap, and he had exactly one eye and too many teeth.
"I can perform the Rite of Lethal Cleansing," he rasped, slathering holy water over my face like a man trying to baptize a sandwich. "But I must warn you, the wall bites."
"It's a wall."
"It bites."
Yvra handed me a ceremonial loincloth made of chainmail and phoenix feathers.
"Put this on."
I stared at it.
"This is a war crime."
She squinted. "Do you not like my culture?"
"No, I love your culture. I just don't want to get married via mortal combat in my underwear."
Too late.
I was shoved into a muddy circle surrounded by villagers, frogs, and what I think was a sentient pumpkin shouting bets.
The Wall rose like a storm cloud. Its eyes glowed. Its bricks clicked into jagged formations.
"YOU CHEATED ON YOUR SCHOOL EXAMS," it bellowed.
I screamed and threw my knife.
The knife bounced off.
"…shit."
The knife clanged off the Wall and was promptly swallowed by a mysterious puddle that burped out a frog with anxiety issues.
"YOU NEVER ACTUALLY READ THE TERMS AND CONDITIONS," the Wall screeched again.
"That's not an insult! Nobody reads those!"
"AND YOU LIED ABOUT IT IN A JOB INTERVIEW."
The villagers gasped. The sentient pumpkin fainted.
I glanced at Yvra, who had taken her seat on a throne made of cacti and bad decisions. She gave me a thumbs up, which immediately burst into flames. Galrik was waving a flag that said, "I BELIEVE IN YOU (sorta)." Lilith was now live-streaming to an interdimensional scrying platform called SnitchTok.
I had no plan. No weapons. Just a chainmail thong and the crippling weight of past decisions.
So I did what any coward with a flair for desperation would do.
I insulted it back.
"YOU'RE NOT EVEN A REAL WALL," I screamed, circling the mud pit like a man who'd lost everything but his sarcasm. "YOU'RE A GLORIFIED PIZZA OVEN!"
The Wall's bricks rippled in rage.
"YOU ONCE TRIED TO DO PARKOUR. YOU BROKE YOUR ARM CLIMBING A BENCH."
"That was a high bench!"
Lightning struck behind us for dramatic effect. Thunder cracked. A chicken exploded again. I charged.
Well, more like slipped, stumbled, and slapped my way toward the Wall with the grace of a newborn goat in roller skates.
It screamed:
"YOU GOOGLED 'HOW TO KISS' BEFORE YOUR FIRST DATE!"
I screamed back:
"WELL IT WORKED, DIDN'T IT?!"
There was a moment. Just one, beautiful, idiotic moment, where I caught a loose brick and headbutted it.
It cracked.
The Wall wailed.
I pulled out the one weapon I had left: emotional instability.
"You think I'm afraid of truth? I wake up every morning knowing I peaked at twelve and peaked again at fourteen when I won a Mario Kart tournament and that's my entire legacy!"
The Wall hesitated.
"I once cried during a toothpaste commercial! I named a pimple Jeffrey! I tried to join a cult just for the free snacks!"
The Wall screeched, bricks flying off it like dandruff in a windstorm. Its form trembled under the weight of my confessions.
"You—YOU—YOU'RE JUST A REFLECTIVE SURFACE WITH ATTITUDE!"
And with one last scream of shared embarrassment, I punched it dead in its eye.
The Wall of Screaming Lies shattered. Bricks rained down. Eyeballs popped like water balloons full of guilt.
Silence.
Then…
Yvra stood. The flames around her died down to a gentle simmer.
"You have bested the Wall," she said.
"Cool," I said, crawling out of the mud. "So we don't have to get married now, right?"
"Oh no. Now we must marry."
"What?!"
"It is Squelchian law. Only a true partner may destroy the Wall of Lies."
"THAT'S A DUMB LAW!"
Mister Fog exhaled a cloud of approval. "It's legally binding now, my dear boy."
Galrik sobbed joyfully. "I love weddings."
Lilith tossed me a bouquet of burning flowers. "Smile for the scry-orb, darling!"
And as I was hauled off to a ceremonial bath (which was just a large bucket full of lizards), I screamed into the swampy sky—
"I WANT TO GO BACK TO THE DUNGEON!"