AI Generated Story Plotting, Prompts, and Giveaways
✦ Scene: The Clock Tower Ruins – Duel of Chronos and Death (Director’s Cut) ✦
The sky above the ruins of the Clock Tower of Vel-Karthis was bruised with streaks of violet and ash-gray. Somewhere in the background, thunder cracked — because of course it did. No dark ritual site would be complete without mood lighting.
Draven leaned on a rusted railing, arms crossed, staring down at the cracked stone plaza where Alexander stood alone, his robe fluttering like he was in a shampoo commercial.
“Remind me again,” Draven muttered, “why we’re letting him go first?”
“Because,” said Lucas, perched on a nearby gargoyle like an overly polite bat, “he insisted. And I quote, ‘I need this for personal growth, aesthetic satisfaction, and a little bit of revenge on an undead tax evader.’”
Draven sighed. “We should’ve brought popcorn.”
Below, the Lich of Vel-Karthis loomed like a monument to taxidermied evil — all jagged bones, hollow eyes, and an aura that screamed “I eat souls for breakfast and wear your grandmother’s wedding ring as an earring.”
Alexander? He was… chewing on a sugar quill.
“You stand before Vel-Karthis!” the lich boomed, its voice echoing like an opera singer gargling gravel. “Wielder of death! Devourer of kings! Slayer of epochs! You dare challenge me?!”
Alexander raised a single finger. “You forgot dodger of dental hygiene. Seriously, buddy, you smell like fermented parchment.”
Lucas snorted. Draven tried — failed — to suppress a chuckle.
The lich screeched and launched a volley of green necrotic fire, death bolts spiraling like shrieking banshees.
Alexander tilted his head and casually sidestepped, letting the spells slam into the ruined stone.
“Ooooh, scary,” he said. “Do it again, but try not to aim like a stormtrooper.”
The lich snarled. “Fool! I am eternal!”
“You’re just ancient,” Alexander muttered, and tapped the glowing runes on his staff.
Draven leaned forward. “Wait for it…”
Alexander twirled the staff with a flourish, spun on one heel, and dramatically pointed it at the lich.
“ZA WARUDO!”
Time froze.
Everything stopped — the falling leaves, the crackling flames, even a seagull mid-squawk in the distance. The colors dulled, the wind vanished.
“...He actually said it,” Lucas whispered in horror. “He actually said ‘Za Warudo.’”
Draven deadpanned, “I warned you he watched too much anime during his Department of Mysteries years.”
✦ Inside the Frozen Time ✦
Alexander wandered calmly through the battlefield, hands in his pockets, as if strolling through a magical art gallery.
He circled around the lich, whose mouth was open mid-roar.
“You know,” he said, speaking to no one in particular, “when I first built the Temporal Anchor Model-3, they said, ‘Alexander, you can’t just weaponize continuity errors!’ Well... joke’s on them.”
He pulled out a silver pocket watch — not magical, just aesthetic — and gave it a flick.
He tapped the lich’s chest.
“Tacky phylactery hidden inside the ribcage? Amateur mistake.”
He flicked his staff, runes glowing.
“Unravel death bindings. Revert necrotic flow. Collapse recursive enchantments... Aaand add sparkle effect because I can.”
He snapped his fingers again.
Time resumed.
The lich blinked — or would have, if it had eyelids — and suddenly staggered, the deathly glow in its bones unraveling like film from a burning reel.
“Wh—what have you—”
“I rewrote your timeline,” Alexander said cheerfully, sipping a conjured cup of tea. “Honestly? You peaked somewhere in the Bronze Age. It’s been all downhill since then.”
The lich shrieked as time itself pulled it into a loop — it aged, reversed, died, and reformed in an endless spiral, until at last, with a sound like a chime being crushed, it imploded into glittering dust.
✦ Aftermath: Tea & Sarcasm ✦
Draven and Lucas dropped down from their perch, the latter landing with an unnecessarily acrobatic spin.
“That was ridiculous,” Lucas said. “And weirdly impressive.”
Alexander wiped his forehead with a handkerchief monogrammed with a clock emoji.
Draven eyed him. “So. ‘Za Warudo,’ huh?”
“It worked,” Alexander said defensively, then grinned. “Besides, I like references.”
“Yeah, but what if he countered with ‘Return to Monkey’ or something?” Draven said.
“I would’ve pivoted to ‘It’s Morbin’ Time.’ I have layers.”
Lucas sighed. “You’re lucky you’re useful.”
Alexander raised a brow. “Useful? I just broke a time-lich, rewrote death magic mid-fight, and looked fabulous doing it.”
“You also monologued to a frozen skeleton and conjured tea mid-battle,” Draven said. “Very you.”
“You’re just mad,” Alexander said, wagging his finger, “because that lich looked exactly like your dad in a mood.”
Draven opened his mouth, paused, then frowned. “...Damn it. He did. That makes it worse.”
Lucas nodded. “All he needed was a snarky cape swish and a disappointed sigh.”
Alexander put an arm around Draven’s shoulders. “Cheer up. You have me. I’m stylish, brilliant, and never once told you to clean your room.”
“You exploded my room once.”
“Exactly. That’s what we call trauma bonding.”
