For the first time in his life, Squidward Tentacles felt like the universe might actually be… rooting for him.
Sandy's death had been spun into a narrative of tragedy and heroism. He was no longer just a cashier — he was The Seer, Bikini Bottom's mysterious prophet. Every day of his hospital recovery, gifts piled high: cards from strangers, flowers from fans, a suspiciously life-sized portrait of him as a saint holding a clarinet like a holy staff. It was absurd. It was perfect.
"Maybe fate finally woke up," Squidward muttered, gazing at himself in the mirror. "It took long enough."
Lurala hovered nearby, gnawing on a spectral apple. "Don't get cocky yet, Squiddy. Fate loves to slap you in the face the moment you start thinking you're in charge."
"I'm not just thinking it," Squidward said, adjusting his shirt collar. "I know it."
She floated around him in slow circles, eyes glowing faintly. "You're seriously planning to take the throne from Neptune, aren't you?"
Squidward's expression didn't change. "Maybe."
"'Maybe'? I can smell scheming in your ink sacs," she teased. "How? Gonna write his name? Fake a prophecy? Poison his beard oil? Oh, come on, give me something."
He didn't answer. Instead, he picked up the Death Note, slid it into a slim leather briefcase, and walked out the door without a word.
The Krusty Krab had never looked so alive. Bright banners hung from the ceiling — WELCOME HOME, SQUIDWARD! — while a crowd of eager fish, reporters, and camera crews jostled for space. Mr. Krabs stood behind the register, his claws practically trembling with excitement as he calculated potential profit margins.
"A royal press conference right here in me restaurant!" Krabs squealed. "This is a gold mine! Or at least a platinum-plated Krabby Patty mine! Neptune's guards, reporters, hungry customers — we'll sell out before noon!"
Beside him, Ollie the Oarfish limped in with a crutch under one fin, still nursing a bullet wound from that… incident. Yet he smiled like a champ. "Don't worry, Mr. Krabs, I'll handle all the fries! No bullet hole's gonna stop me from giving 110%!"
Krabs sniffled. "That's the spirit, boyo. A true soldier of the grill."
Then the front doors swung open.
Squidward entered.
The crowd gasped like someone had just announced free gold doubloons. Cameras flashed. Microphones were shoved into his face.
"Squidward, how does it feel to be the Seer?"
"Did you really predict the Great Fuel Truck Disaster?"
"Do you have advice for winning the lottery?"
He brushed them off with a practiced smile and strolled to the register. "Hello, Krabs."
Krabs grinned. "Look at ye, lad — a real celebrity! I've never been so proud… or so ready to charge double."
Squidward sighed. "Try not to ruin my public image, alright?"
The arrival of King Neptune was heralded by trumpets, sparkling confetti, and a royal procession of guards with polished pikes. The restaurant shook as the massive sea king ducked through the doors, beard shimmering like golden kelp.
"Ah, there he is!" Neptune boomed, spotting Squidward instantly. "The man of the hour! The seer of the century!"
Squidward bowed slightly. "Your Majesty."
"Ha! Rise, rise. I don't do formalities. I heard of your recovery, your… astonishing foresight. You've impressed the realm, my boy." He winked. "Think I could borrow your services at the royal castle? Maybe you can warn me when the royal chef is about to over-salt my soup."
The crowd chuckled.
Even Krabs laughed, elbowing Squidward. "He's makin' jokes with ya, lad! Imagine the publicity!"
But Squidward's smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Your Majesty," Squidward said, straightening, "I appreciate the compliment."
Neptune chuckled. "Good lad."
"But I must decline."
The king blinked. "Oh?"
Squidward's voice sharpened. "In fact, I don't think I need to serve under anyone anymore."
The room fell silent.
Neptune tilted his head. "I beg your pardon?"
Squidward took a step forward, his tone calm — but electric. "If I am truly chosen by fate… if I can see and shape destiny itself… then why shouldn't I lead? Why shouldn't I take the throne?"
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Krabs sputtered, nearly choking on his own tongue. "Squidward — what the—? Shut up, you'll get us all executed!"
Neptune's brow furrowed, his jovial grin slipping. "You're… challenging my right to rule?"
"Not challenging," Squidward said, his voice rising. "Proving."
He dropped his sling, stood tall, and looked the king dead in the eye.
"I challenge you, King Neptune, to a duel."
The silence was so deep you could hear Ollie drop a basket of fries in shock.
Neptune blinked once. Twice.
Then he threw back his head and laughed. "A duel? HA! With me? Oh, you've got courage, I'll give you that, little cashier."
But Squidward didn't laugh.
"I'm not joking."
The laughter died.
The crowd stared in stunned disbelief. Krabs clutched his chest like he might faint. Cameras clicked furiously.
Neptune's smirk returned — but it was harder now. Sharper. "If you're serious, then I won't go easy on you."