The Mandatory Low-Flow Protocol (MLFP) had achieved its goal: the national FPM had stabilized, and the populace was slowly recharging its mental bandwidth through soothing ASMR and muted pastel visuals. But Chadgard, fueled by their inability to comprehend sophisticated strategy, saw only an opportunity.
Chief Evelyn (RC) burst into the King's quiet study, her face pale beneath the mandated 'Muted Pastel Filter' of her own makeup.
"Your Majesty! Intelligence reports confirm it! Chadgard is exploiting the MLFP! They believe the temporary dip in the Flow means we are critically weakened!"
Felix, who was meticulously polishing his boots with a low-abrasion cloth (a Flow-neutral activity), looked up, his violet eyes sharp.
"The dullness of their minds is their greatest weapon, and their greatest flaw," Felix noted. "They cannot perceive a strategic retreat; they only see a target."
"They have mobilized," Evelyn confirmed grimly. "An entire armored division is crossing the border, utilizing ancient, blocky war machines and banners with absolutely zero aesthetic coherence. They are calling it Operation: Return to Tradition."
[SYSTEM ALERT: IMMINENT THREAT. CHADGARDIAN ARMY STRENGTH: CATASTROPHIC. FLOW RATING: LOW-OPTIMAL (7,000 FPM). DEFENSE PROTOCOL: CRITICAL.]
Felix stood, shedding the calm of the MLFP. The time for soothing aesthetics was over.
"We cannot meet their traditional force with high-Flow combat," the King observed, tapping his gilded chin. "The instant I command a full Ritual of Gooning, the FPM will surge past safety levels, causing the national burnout we just avoided. We must fight this battle with Flow Conservation."
Knight-Captain Rhea, who had rushed in, clenched her fists. "We need a massive, kingdom-wide Collective Surge to power the Aesthetic Defense Lattice! We can't fight a division with 7,000 FPM!"
"We can, if we fight smart," Felix insisted. "We will not use mass offense. We will use a singular, precise, high-cost move that neutralizes the largest threat instantly."
He focused on his S-Tier skill, the one he'd unlocked with his consolidated energy.
Aesthetic Vortex: Creates a localized, reality-bending bubble of overwhelming aesthetic perfection. (Cost: 10,000 DF)
"The Aesthetic Vortex is the solution," Felix declared. "But it costs 10,000 DF. Our current Flow is only generating 7,000 FPM. We are short by 3,000."
"Sire, if you use a high-Flow ritual now, you might burn out the populace," Reginald warned.
Felix smiled, the expression containing a wicked mix of high aesthetics and strategic desperation. "We won't ask the populace for a full Gooning Ritual. We'll ask them for a single, controlled moment of shared disbelief—the purest form of focused attention. We will generate a Flow Spike."
The King quickly returned to the command broadcast, forcing the Muted Pastel Filter to drop and replacing it with sharp, aggressive backlighting. His image flashed across the kingdom.
"Citizens of Thighland! Your King has an urgent request," Felix's voice resonated across the land. "The forces of Chadgard are at the border. They have brought ugly tanks, unkempt banners, and the most shamefully generic music imaginable."
He paused, letting the shock and mild aesthetic offense sink in.
"I need only one thing from you. I need you to focus, together, at the moment of impact. I need you to witness what I am about to do to their ugliest command vehicle, and I need you to all react with a single, synchronized emotion."
Felix activated the live feed of the battlefield, zooming in on the Chadgardian Command Tank—a massive, unpainted metal box.
"I need you to generate a Flow Spike of pure, absolute Cringe-Based Disbelief," Felix commanded. "Focus your energy on this image, and channel your total mental focus into this one act of spectacular aesthetic violence!"
He stood on the rampart of the command center, the Digital Dawn ensemble flashing in the aggressive light. He channeled every erg of his 7,000 FPM, preparing the Aesthetic Vortex.
As the Command Tank rolled into range, Felix unleashed the S-Tier power, pouring the 7,000 DF into the rapidly manifesting Vortex. Simultaneously, his image was broadcast across Thighland. The people focused, their minds uniting in a single moment of dedicated, obsessive attention—not of arousal, but of pure, weaponized Cringe anticipation.
[FLOW SPIKE INITIATED: 15,000 FPM! DF RESERVES SURGING! AESTHETIC VORTEX POWER: MAX!]
The Aesthetic Vortex slammed into the massive Command Tank. The reality-bending bubble didn't crush the tank; it rewrote it. The dull metal instantly shimmered, warping into a massive, garish structure made entirely of rainbow-colored, glitter-infused foam rubber. The war machine was neutralized, replaced by a monument to aesthetic absurdity.
Chadgardian soldiers stared at their new foam rubber tank, paralyzed by cognitive dissonance. The Kingdom of Thighland erupted in a massive, synchronized burst of disbelief, generating a colossal Flow Spike. The invasion was stalled by a single, perfectly executed aesthetic attack.