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.”
Welcome to Loli House.
Lucas stood on the cobblestone street, staring at the building before him with a mixture of astonishment, horror, and grudging respect for the sheer audacity.
Nooby’s lair in the Waifu District looked like a giant pink-and-white dollhouse straight out of a Barbie commercial. Two stories tall, overly cheerful paint job, little heart-shaped shutters… it was aggressively wholesome in a way that made it feel about ten times more suspicious than the clearly marked brothels on either side.
How, Lucas wondered, could something look both innocent and FBI-watchlist at the same time?
He glanced at the polished wooden doors and seriously considered just casting Confringo and fireballing the place into vapor. He could not—could not—be seen walking into this abomination.
But for the sake of ending Nooby’s reign of idiocy, some sacrifices had to be made.
The demons in Hell killed their victims. Nooby made them live in stupidity forever.
"We’ve surrounded the building and cast all the wards you requested, sir," said Maxwell, one of his newest recruits.
"Anti-Apparation?? Non-Detection?? Anything else??"
"Yes," Maxwell said, somehow sighing despite lacking lungs. "Triple-checked everything. Sir… isn’t this a bit much for one goblin?"
"This goblin," Lucas said gravely, "is a malicious Bugs Bunny. The number of people who’ve wanted him dead is a list that could wrap around the moon… and yet he’s still here. Triple-check it again."
Maxwell gave him a bony shrug and returned to his post, muttering about paranoia.
Lucas adjusted his grip on his wand, squared his shoulders, and stepped inside.
The entrance hall was perfumed, painted in an explosion of bright pastels, and decorated with plush furniture that somehow managed to look both cozy and predatory. At the front desk, a metamorphmagus receptionist waved enthusiastically.
"Welcome, honored guest!" they chirped.
"I’m just here for business," Lucas said quickly.
"They all say that," the receptionist said with a knowing smile. "No worries, client-sama. We respect your privacy."
Lucas suppressed a shiver. "I’m looking for someone—Nooby. Goblin. Green, loud, brain-meltingly annoying."
"Ah, Mr. Nooby!" the receptionist beamed. "One of our best customers! You can find him on the second floor, room eight. Will you be wanting the threesome or our special Little Sister package?"
Lucas blinked. "Neither. I just want to talk to him. Then I’m leaving. Forever."
"You say that now!" The receptionist rang a little bell. A door he hadn’t even noticed swung open, and another metamorphmagus stepped out.
Within seconds, the newcomer transformed into what could only be described as a female teenage version of Draven himself—black hair, sharp jawline softened just enough to look… unsettlingly cute.
"Onii-chan!" she squealed, eyes huge and sparkly. "I love you, onii-chan!"
Lucas took a full step back. "…What the hell is that?!"
"As you can see," the receptionist said brightly, "all our lolis are adult, consenting metamorphmagi. You can indulge every fantasy with a clean conscience and without breaking any laws."
Lucas held up a hand. "I’m not—"
"Onii-chan!" The girl lunged at him like a starving cat at a plate of tuna. "I’m a virgin!"
Lucas instinctively jabbed his wand out like a spear to keep her at arm’s length. "Back! Back, foul creature!"
The receptionist’s voice rang out magically through the building. "Girls, the client is resisting! Moe Overload special, now!"
Doors all around him burst open.
A horde of shape-shifting lolis poured into the hall—pink-haired magical girls, blonde angels who looked suspiciously like younger versions of Sophie, tanuki-eared tricksters, gothic lolitas… each one charging toward him with a different “appeal.”
Lucas did the only logical thing.
He bolted.
Racing up the nearest stairs, pursued by the stampeding mob, he shot down hallways, leapt over grasping hands, and deflected incoming “surprise hugs” with expert wandwork.
"I like mature women!" he shouted over his shoulder, blasting open a door to keep running.
A green-haired “ancient priestess” appeared in front of him, eyes wide with faux innocence. "Onii-chan, I’m one hundred years old! That makes it okay!"
Lucas’s scream of frustration echoed down the hallway as the chase continued.
Lucas rounded the corner, blasting open another door with a Reducto.
He skidded to a halt.
The room looked like it belonged in some deranged slice-of-life anime: pink walls, a frilly canopy bed, plushies lining every shelf. And in the middle of it all, sitting cross-legged on the bed like he owned the place, was the goblin himself.
Nooby.
Green skin, smug smirk, an oversized hoodie with the words 2D > 3D printed on it in obnoxious bubble letters.
"Hey, Lucas!" Nooby waved cheerfully, as if they were old drinking buddies. "Want a Pocky?"
Lucas stood in the doorway, chest heaving from the chase. "You—" he pointed his wand, "—are a plague on sentient thought."
Nooby tilted his head innocently. "Aww, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me today. Sit down! Want to watch some anime? It’s the ‘extremely culturally significant’ kind."
Behind Lucas, the pounding of tiny feet grew louder. The loli horde was closing in.
Lucas stepped inside, slammed the door shut with Colloportus, and threw every locking charm he knew on it.
"Hey, careful!" Nooby said. "You’re gonna damage the soundproofing. That stuff was expensive."
Lucas advanced slowly, wand leveled. "Do you have any idea how many people have tried to kill you?"
"Yup!" Nooby grinned. "All failed. Usually because they got distracted by a ‘totally not underage’ maid café first. Works every time."
Lucas’s eye twitched. "You—"
A muffled Onii-chaaaan! came from outside, followed by scratching at the door.
Nooby’s grin widened. "You brought company. Nice. They usually charge extra for this kind of crowd."
"I didn’t bring them, they chased me here!" Lucas snapped.
"Sure, sure. Listen—" Nooby pulled a folded flyer from his hoodie pocket and tossed it to him. "There’s a special event tonight. If you survive the VIP Moe Gauntlet, you get a discount."
Lucas caught it without looking. "You think this is a joke?"
"Nope. I think it’s business."
The door shuddered violently. Lucas could hear at least three different voices outside declaring they were "secretly a thousand years old."
He took a deep breath, fighting the urge to set the entire building on fire. "Nooby… when I’m done with you, there won’t be enough left for the Moe Patrol to scrape off the floor."
The goblin just smirked, leaned back against his pile of plushies, and said, "Sure thing, Onii-chan."
The door’s locking charms didn’t last.
With a simultaneous BANG and a high-pitched chorus of “Onii-chaaaan~!”, the hinges exploded, and the Moe Horde poured into the room like pink-haired piranhas.
Lucas didn’t hesitate—he flicked his wand and roared, "Bombarda Maxima!"
The blast knocked half the swarm into the hallway in a glittery cloud of frills, plushies, and cat-ear headbands.
"Whoa! Property damage!" Nooby yelped, diving behind his bed-fort. "Do you know how many microtransactions it’ll take to fix that?!"
"Less than it’ll take to put you in the ground," Lucas growled, spinning on his heel. "Impedimenta!"
A green-haired “ancient priestess” loli froze mid-pounce, eyes wide, before Lucas punted her out the door like a Quaffle.
More metamorphmagus girls swarmed in—maid uniforms, animal ears, glowing magical-girl wands firing sparkles that stung like bees.
Lucas’s patience snapped.
"Protego Maxima!"
The shimmering dome flared to life, deflecting a spray of suspiciously heart-shaped projectiles. He followed it with a flick—"Petrificus Totalus!"—locking three catgirls into stiff statue poses before hurling them into a group of gothic lolitas trying to flank him.Nooby peeked over his bed-fort with a grin. "Ooooh, crowd control! Nice! What’s next? Fireball? Tentacles?"
Lucas leveled his wand at him. "Oh, you want a fireball?"
"Incendio Tria!"
A roaring pillar of flame erupted, forcing Nooby to scramble out from behind his cover, yelping as the plushies went up in smoke. "HEY! Those were limited edition!"
The horde kept coming—more doors burst open, revealing themed waves: school uniforms, swimsuit edition, cyberpunk girls with glowing hair.
Lucas ducked under a flying kick from a pink-haired “battle idol” and countered with "Expulso!"—sending her ricocheting off the ceiling like a pinball.
"I’m starting to see why so many assassination attempts failed," Lucas muttered, fending off a bunny-girl with a Flipendo that sent her skidding into a wall. "It’s not that you’re hard to kill—it’s that you’ve weaponized weaponized distraction!"
Nooby laughed maniacally from atop his bed, now dual-wielding giant foam mallets. "MOE IS ETERNAL, BABY!"
The goblin leapt at him, mallets swinging. Lucas sidestepped, grabbed him mid-air by the hood, and slammed him into the floor with a resounding thud.
The horde froze.
Nooby groaned, dazed. "Okay… that was… kinda hot—"
"Stupefy!"
The goblin went limp. Lucas, breathing hard, stepped over his unconscious body, wand still raised at the circling metamorphmagus.
"Anyone else?"
The Moe Horde exchanged glances, then simultaneously squealed, “Onii-chan is so cool!” before scattering into the hallways.
Lucas stood in the wreckage—bed in splinters, plushies smoldering, walls full of scorch marks—and muttered to himself, "Next time, I’m bringing Alexander. He can deal with this crap."
Lucas had Nooby slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain, the goblin still out cold from the Stupefy.
The dollhouse hallway smelled faintly of singed plush and burnt strawberry perfume. Lucas kept his wand at the ready as he headed for the front door, boots crunching over shards of fake tiaras and plastic wand debris.
He almost made it.
"Onii-chan…"
Lucas froze mid-step.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned.Standing at the far end of the hall was the same metamorphmagus “little sister” who’d first greeted him—same long black hair, same disturbingly familiar face, still dressed in that too-cute brown dress.
She pouted, eyes glistening. "You’re just going to leave without saying goodbye?"
Lucas tightened his grip on Nooby. "Yes. Goodbye."
He turned to leave.
"Onii-chan~!"
She sprinted at him—barefoot, silent, fast. Lucas sidestepped, muttering "Protego!", but she vaulted clean over the shield like a gymnast and landed in front of the door.
Nooby groaned weakly on Lucas’s shoulder. "Careful… that one’s persistent… took out a kneazle once…"
"Shut up." Lucas leveled his wand. "Move."
She tilted her head innocently. "Not until you hug me, Onii-chan."
Lucas blinked. "What?"
"Just a hug. And maybe a forehead kiss. And maybe—"
"Flipendo!"
The blast launched her backward through the door, which obligingly slammed shut behind her.
Lucas stepped outside into blessed fresh air, the sunlight cutting through the dollhouse’s perfume haze. His squad was waiting—Maxwell among them—wands raised in anticipation.
"Got him," Lucas said simply, dumping Nooby into Maxwell’s arms.
Maxwell eyed the scorch marks on Lucas’s robe. "…Rough fight, sir?"
Lucas started walking away without looking back. "Next time someone suggests I go into a pink dollhouse, remind me I’d rather duel three balrogs and a tax auditor."
From behind the closed doors, the muffled cry of "Onii-chaaaan~!" echoed one last time.
Lucas quickened his pace.
