The night sky burned with the light of Chad Thunderbullet's weapon.
The humming cannon he carried looked less like a gun and more like a stolen engine from a fallen star. Runes glowed across its surface, lightning arced from its barrel, and the sheer force of it made the entire battlefield tremble.
Jack stood frozen in frosting-stained clothes, still clutching a bent microphone like it was a sword. "I'm not equipped for this! The only thing I've ever beaten in my life is solitaire—and even then I sometimes lost!"
Chad leveled the cannon, his eyes blazing with hatred. "This is the end for you, Loser. You humiliated me, stole the attention of every faction, and now you parade around with a divine beast. Tonight, your luck runs out."
The trigger clicked. A beam of energy the size of a freight train ripped through the square.
Jack screamed, shut his eyes, and raised his arms instinctively. Something inside him shifted. The Medallion mark on his chest flared, golden light erupting. The blast struck him dead on… and fizzled out like water against steel.
He cracked one eye open. His skin shimmered faintly, hard as diamond. The ground beneath his feet had cratered, but Jack himself stood unharmed.
The crowd gasped. Karen roared. Lucian hissed with awe. Love Dick clapped her hands and laughed like it was all a grand joke.
Jack looked down at his glowing arms. "Wait… did I just… not die? Did I actually use the werewolf thing?!"
Chad snarled and fired again. The blast slammed into Jack's chest, but again, the golden wereform held. Jack yelped, staggered back, tripped on the remains of the altar, and fell on his ass. But he was still alive.
"Holy crap," he breathed. "I'm bulletproof. This is the best day of my life!"
Chad's face twisted. He tossed the cannon aside and charged, fists like hammers. Jack scrambled to his feet, raising his microphone like a weapon.
The first punch connected, sending Jack flying across the square. He smashed into a wall, stars exploding in his vision.
"Okay," he groaned, dragging himself up, "note to self: invincible skin doesn't mean painless."
Chad lunged again. Jack flailed wildly, swinging the microphone. It clanged against Chad's helmet—harmless, except that the Medallion pulsed at that exact moment. The vampire technique kicked in. Energy drained from Chad like air out of a punctured tire.
The Guild commander staggered, eyes wide. "What… what did you do to me?"
Jack blinked at the microphone. "I… sucked your battery dry? With karaoke equipment?"
Lucian's voice thundered from the sidelines. "He is absorbing your life force!"
Jack grinned weakly. "Well, that's new. Suck it, Thunderbullet!"
Enraged, Chad drew his combat knife and lunged. Jack panicked, spotted a discarded crossbow, and snatched it up. His hands shook violently. He squeezed the trigger without aiming.
The arrow zipped through the air, bouncing off a lamppost, ricocheting off a frying pan someone had dropped, and striking Chad square in the wrist. The knife flew from his hand.
The hunters gasped. The brides screamed in delight. Jack's jaw dropped.
"I hit him. I actually hit him. Oh my God, the accuracy thing works! I'm Legolas with ADHD!"
Chad roared, charging again barehanded. The two collided in the center of the ruined wedding square. Jack swung the microphone desperately, draining bits of Chad's energy every time he connected. Chad hammered him with fists that cracked the stone beneath them, but Jack's golden body refused to break.
It was chaos. A loser in ripped clothes and frosting stains brawling with the most dangerous man in the Hunter Guild, sparks and dust exploding around them like fireworks.
At one point, Jack tripped over a fallen chair, fell flat, and accidentally headbutted Chad in the gut. The Medallion pulsed again, draining more energy. Chad staggered back, gasping, his strength fading.
Jack scrambled up, panting. "I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm apparently really good at not dying!"
The townsfolk cheered. Karen screamed encouragement. Love Dick blew him a kiss mid-battle. Lucian watched with narrowed eyes, equal parts impressed and annoyed. Mr. Snuggles squeaked triumphantly from a rooftop, tail glowing like a signal flare.
Chad swung one last desperate punch. Jack closed his eyes, fired blindly with the crossbow. The arrow arced, bounced off a chandelier, ricocheted off a champagne glass, and buried itself in Chad's boot.
Chad screamed, lost balance, and fell face-first into the wreckage of the wedding cake.
Silence fell.
Jack stood over him, trembling, holding his microphone like Excalibur. "So… does this mean I win? Or do we have to do best two out of three?"
The Guild soldiers froze, waiting for orders that never came. Their leader lay sprawled in frosting and defeat. Slowly, one by one, they backed away, dragging their wounded with them, until the square was empty.
The crowd erupted.
Cheers shook the night. Townsfolk lifted Jack onto their shoulders. The brides rushed him, fighting for space, kissing his cheeks, shouting that he was theirs. Lucian smirked, Karen howled, Love Dick winked, Seraphina scowled but didn't deny her interest.
Jack, dazed, lifted a hand weakly. "Guys, please… I'm just a broke loser who wanted nachos. I'm not your champion."
But no one listened. To them, he was already the hero who had stood against the Guild's finest and survived.
Mr. Snuggles leapt onto his shoulder again, curling up proudly, as if claiming victory for himself.
Jack muttered under his breath, "Yeah, sure. You're the real MVP. I'm just the idiot who tripped his way into a win."
The celebration roared on, louder, brighter, more chaotic than ever. Yet somewhere in the shadows, Jack could feel it—eyes watching, plotting. The Guild wasn't done. This was only the beginning.
But for now? He was alive. He was undefeated. And apparently, he was everyone's fiancé.
"Great," Jack sighed. "I'm doomed."