The Prophecy Nobody Read Properly
For a thousand years, the scrolls of destiny had warned of this moment: “When the sky cracks open and the Dark Lord rises, the world shall end in fire.”
Mountains trembled. Oceans pulled back like they were holding their breath. Above the Kingdom of Upper Wobblewick, the clouds tore apart like old curtains, revealing a swirling purple rift in the heavens.
Out of it descended the Dark Lord Maleficarum the Infinite — cloaked in shadow, crowned with horns, and carrying the dreaded Orb of Eternal Destruction, a sphere said to consume stars for breakfast.
Armies fled. Wizards fainted. Chickens exploded for no known reason.
And inside a crooked stone tower nearby, Barnaby the Apprentice Wizard was late for lunch.
Barnaby the Timeless Failure
Barnaby had been an apprentice for 102 years.
Not because magic took that long to learn — but because Barnaby had failed his Level 1 Wizard Certification Exam every single decade since Queen Victoria still had knees.
His mentor once said, “Barnaby, you possess great potential.”
Barnaby replied, “Is that near the kitchen?”
He shuffled across the stone floor in slippers that squeaked like frightened mice. Today’s task was simple: boil an egg and study runes. He had done neither correctly.
He squinted at his spellbook.
“Now where did I put my reading glasses…” he muttered, patting his robe pockets.
That was when the tower shook.
The Dark Lord Makes an Entrance
A thunderous voice rolled across the land.
“BRING ME THE ORB, OR ALL SHALL PERISH.”
Barnaby looked out the window.
“Oh dear,” he said politely. “Weather’s acting up again.”
The Dark Lord floated down in a storm of smoke and lightning, landing outside Barnaby’s tower. The Orb of Eternal Destruction pulsed like a living heart, whispering ancient doom in twelve forgotten languages.
“OLD ONE,” the Dark Lord roared, “YOU SHALL WITNESS THE END OF REALITY.”
Barnaby blinked.
“Have we met? You look like a dentist I once feared.”
The Egg That Ended the End
Barnaby shuffled toward his table, where his lunch waited: a hard-boiled egg, slightly overcooked and suspiciously glowing.
Except… it wasn’t glowing.
He had accidentally picked up the Dark Lord’s Orb.
It pulsed. It hissed. It radiated cosmic dread.
Barnaby squinted.
“Oh, there you are, my egg.”
He peeled it halfway.
The Dark Lord shrieked.
“NO! YOU FOOL! THAT IS THE CORE OF OBLIVION!”
Barnaby paused.
“Ah. That explains the warmth.”
The Dark Lord raised his staff.
“I CAST THE SPELL OF TOTAL UNMAKING!”
Barnaby, still searching his pockets, pulled out a salt shaker instead of his glasses.
“Would you care for some?” he asked kindly, holding it out.
When Salt Meets Sorcery
The death spell struck the salt shaker mid-air.
Something went wrong.
Very wrong.
Instead of destroying reality, the spell collided with sodium chloride and the Orb of Eternal Destruction at the same time.
There was a blinding flash.
A loud pop.
And a noise suspiciously like a kazoo.
The Orb shrank.
And shrank.
Until it became… a boiled egg.
The Dark Lord stared.
“What… have you done?”
Barnaby tapped the egg against the table.
“Well, it appears to be lunch now.”
The Collapse of Evil (Politely)
Without the Orb, Maleficarum the Infinite began to flicker.
His horns drooped.
His cloak turned into what looked like a bathrobe.
“No… this cannot be… I was foretold—”
Barnaby patted his arm.
“Prophecies are tricky things. I once misread one and summoned a goat.”
With a soft puff of smoke and mild embarrassment, the Dark Lord vanished into a cloud shaped vaguely like a question mark.
The sky stitched itself back together.
The oceans returned to normal.
The chickens reassembled.
History’s Least Heroic Hero
Trumpets sounded across the kingdom.
Knights arrived.
Wizards bowed.
Bards began writing songs titled “The Egg That Saved Existence.”
Barnaby blinked at them.
“Did something happen?”
The High Wizard declared, “You have defeated the Dark Lord and saved reality!”
Barnaby smiled gently.
“Ah. Then I suppose I passed my exam?”
They hesitated.
“…Yes. Yes, you did.”
Legacy of the Shuffling Wizard
From that day on, the tale spread across taverns and time:
Not of a mighty warrior.
Not of a blazing sorcerer.
But of a forgetful old apprentice whose squeaky shoes walked straight through destiny.
They say the Orb of Eternal Destruction is now just a breakfast recipe in the royal cookbook.
And Barnaby?
He still hasn’t found his reading glasses.
But the universe no longer dares to underestimate a man who mistakes apocalypse for lunch.
Final Thought
Sometimes the world is not saved by strength.
Sometimes it is saved by confusion, kindness…
and a well-timed salt shaker.
And that is why history remembers the day the wizard shuffled —
and reality politely survived.