The knights and adventurers fought with everything they had, blades flashing and shields buckling against the endless horde. But then—they all froze.
Every head tilted skyward as something impossible burned its way through the clouds.
A formation of flaming arrows.
Not just any formation.
A flaming penis.
The exact kind you'd find crudely etched into the back of a math textbook or carved into a school desk, now blazing in holy fiery glory above the battlefield.
Theron, mid-thrust as he rammed his cane into a humanoid monster's throat, paused to squint up at the spectacle. "What a strange arrow formation," he muttered in genuine confusion.
Beside him, Silvara yanked her knives from the chest of a four-armed beast, flicking off the slime as her eyes followed his. She exhaled a long, weary sigh—the kind reserved for moments when life simply gives up on dignity.
Theron glanced at her, curious. "Do you know what formation that is?"
