The kitchen air was still thick with soap mist and dairy fumes as Sir Stoolius stood proudly atop his bubble chariot, one rubber duck steed slowly deflating beneath him.
I, the Juicebringer, gazed upon my freshly-scrubbed knight with pride.
But before either of us could bask in our victory—
THUD.
Something rolled out from the fruit basket above.
It landed with a creak.
A shriveled apple, wrinkled beyond comprehension, wearing a dented bottle cap as a crown.
One eye was missing. The other… burned with ancient wisdom.
Sir Stoolius gasped.
> "Is that… the Corefather?"
The elder apple spoke in a voice like rotten wood creaking in the wind.
> "Juicebringer of Prophecy… Stoolius of Stool… heed my words."
He coughed out a raisin.
> "Long ago, before the age of smooth juice and stainless steel… there was balance among the Fruit. Apples ruled with dignity. Oranges brought joy. Bananas… behaved themselves."
He shuddered.
> "But now… the Banana Horde stirs once more. Your clash with Bananarch was but the first squeeze of a coming storm."
I gulped.
Sir Stoolius farted nervously, producing a single bubble.
The Corefather continued:
> "Legend speaks of one who shall unite the Fruit Kingdoms… or plunge them into eternal compost."
His gaze locked onto me.
> "You, O Citrus One… are either the Savior of Snacks… or the Harbinger of Smoothie Apocalypse."
Thunder sort of rumbled in the distance. Or maybe it was just the dishwasher starting.
---
Meanwhile… deep below, in the Sewage Abyss…
Dripping. Echoing. Moody lighting.
Bananarch drifted face-up in a murky river of pipe water and shame.
His eyes snapped open.
> "Orange… you may have struck me down…"
He slowly emerged from the sludge, now coated in unholy hair, soap scum, and mysterious green goo.
His peel sizzled. He crackled with corrupted potassium energy.
> "But you have awakened my TRUE FORM…"
A monstrous silhouette rose behind him.
> "I… AM BANANARCH THE UNFLUSHABLE!"
He roared, sending sewer rats fleeing in terror.
> "AND I SHALL RETURN WITH AN ARMY OF DRAIN-BORN ABOMINATIONS!"
---
Back at the countertop, I trembled.
Sir Stoolius gulped.
The Corefather's final words echoed like expired wisdom:
> "Steel your peel… for Fruit War approaches."