The wedding took place exactly twenty-four minutes after the Wall of Screaming Lies exploded—and fourteen minutes after I tried to flee and got tripped by a frog with a badge that read "Morality Officer."
Apparently, in Squelch, the traditions are sacred and swift. You slay a monster that knows your browser history? Congratulations. You're now emotionally and legally tethered to a being who bench-pressed a boulder while telling me I had "dainty peasant hips."
"Stand straight," Yvra hissed, adjusting my posture like I was a scarecrow with scoliosis. "And do not cry during the Vow of Binding."
"I'm not crying. I'm just allergic to consequences."
The altar was a half-submerged tree stump, adorned with offerings like melted candles, suspicious meat pies, and what might've been a cursed doll doing jazz hands. The priest—Father Slap, now in full ceremonial armor (which was just a spiked codpiece and a monocle)—raised his hands.
"By fire, mud, and generational trauma, I declare this sacred union upon thee!"
The villagers clapped enthusiastically. One of them lit fireworks that spelled out "RIP FREEDOM."
Yvra stared at me. Her burning pupils softened—slightly.
"I accept you as my husband. May your spine remain mostly intact."
"Thanks, I guess. I, uh… accept you too. May your… uh… flames burn only metaphorically?"
The priest slapped both of us on the head. "YOU ARE NOW MARRIED. KISS OR PERISH."
Yvra leaned in.
I did what any reasonable, panicking man in a chainmail loincloth would do.
I passed out.
I woke up in a hut made of frogskin and moss. On the wall hung a sign: "JUST MARRIED, AND POSSIBLY CURSED."
Galrik was beside me, slicing cucumbers with a poisoned dagger.
"Morning, lover-boy."
"Am I dreaming?"
"Oh no. You're very married. And as your best man, I took the liberty of preparing your post-nuptial feast."
"…Is it cursed?"
He shrugged. "Depends on how much of it you eat."
Lilith entered wearing a wedding dress she clearly stole from a banshee. "You missed the afterparty. A goat got drunk, the priest set himself on fire, and someone tried to summon your baby photos from the nether."
"What the hell is this village?"
"It's called Squelch," she said. "It's where all great regrets come to ferment."
Yvra entered next, ducking to fit her horns through the doorway. She handed me a flaming mug.
"Here. Squelchian marriage tea. It tastes like boiling pepper and regret."
"Delicious," I muttered, sipping it and instantly losing all feeling in my face.
She sat beside me, serious now. "You did good, weak one. You may not be strong, but you are… remarkably slippery."
"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week."
"Good. Because our honeymoon begins soon."
My brain short-circuited. "What does a honeymoon involve here? Like, spa visits? Fruit?"
Yvra grinned. "We hunt swamp krakens together. Naked."
I looked into the mug.
I looked at the hut.
I looked at my ring—which was just a snake that refused to die.
Then I whispered, as quietly as I could:
"I miss the dungeon."
The swamp kraken was already awake.
That was the first bad sign.
The second bad sign was that it was holding a bouquet of teeth and juggling flaming frogs. The third? I was still in my chainmail thong, and my new wife had just handed me a spear made out of bone and sarcasm.
"We must perform the Ritual of Newlywed Bloodshed," Yvra explained with a tone usually reserved for explaining taxes to orphans. "If we slay the beast together, the gods will bless our union."
"Are the gods blind or just deeply insane?"
"Yes," she said cheerfully.
The kraken roared from across the bog. Tentacles slapped the water like angry spaghetti. It had one eye. One massive glowing eye that screamed divorce is not an option.
Lilith waved from a safe distance, sipping on something purple and definitely toxic. "If you survive, I get custody of your toothbrush!"
Galrik was crouched on a floating log with a pair of opera binoculars. "I'm just here for the gore and potential character development!"
Yvra launched first, leaping into the air like a demon ballerina, her war-axe leaving trails of fire as she screamed, "I DO NOT FEAR WEDDING PRESSURE!"
I waded into the water like a man who'd already made peace with the afterlife. My spear was shaking. I was shaking. Even the spear seemed to be muttering, "Bro, this is not it."
Yvra was on the kraken's back now, screaming sweet nothings like:
"FEEL MY MARITAL FURY!"
Meanwhile, I jabbed weakly at a tentacle and immediately got yeeted thirty feet into a lily patch, where a frog slapped me for good measure.
The crowd cheered. I think someone started betting on which part of me would fly off first.
Then, in a moment of either bravery or brain damage, I stood. I raised my spear like it owed me money and yelled:
"IF I DIE HERE, MAKE SURE MY BROWSER HISTORY DIES WITH ME!"
The kraken turned to me. It smirked. That's right. The swamp kraken smirked.
And then it lunged.
Tentacles whipped. Yvra laughed like a lunatic as she rode one of them like a rodeo beast.
I threw the spear.
It bounced off the kraken.
Right into Yvra's hand.
She used it as leverage to plunge her axe directly into the kraken's eye.
A howling scream echoed across the entire swamp as the beast collapsed back into the sludge with a dramatic splat. Its tentacles twitched, then slowly sank, along with my hope for a quiet life.
Yvra emerged, covered in slime and victory. "We are blessed now."
"I think I swallowed kraken pee," I whispered, lying flat in a puddle of loss.
"Good. That is tradition."
Later, back in our honeymoon shack (a glorified wooden box on stilts), I was soaking in a tub of medicinal soup herbs while Galrik and Lilith argued over whether I should be declared legally undead.
"Stop trying to eulogize me!" I croaked.
"Oh, we wrote your tombstone during the fight," Lilith said. "It reads: Here lies Avin. Married, mauled, mildly moist."
"I hate this marriage."
Yvra entered, still steaming with battle heat. "I made us snacks."
She placed down a tray of roasted kraken tentacle and what might've been pickled toenails.
"...I'm going back to the dungeon," I muttered.
Yvra raised an eyebrow. "You mean our home?"
"No, no. The real dungeon. Traps, monsters, slow death. Way safer than you people."
She laughed and handed me a piece of tentacle jerky. "Eat, husband. Tomorrow, we begin the Trial of In-laws."
I stared at her.
"...You have in-laws?"
"Oh yes. And they're much worse than me."
My scream echoed into the night sky.
Even the kraken's ghost flinched.