Street Fight vs Royal Guard

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[SYSTEM MESSAGE]

> “How to Beat the Elite with Rope, Grease, and Sheer Petty Rage”

> Location: Back-Alley Dojo Arena (a.k.a. the courtyard with three bamboo sticks and a suspiciously angry chicken).

“Prince Caelus Solari,” sneered the commander of the Royal Guard, “you are challenging the Empire’s finest soldiers? With… that?”

He pointed toward Caelus’s new recruits slash students: a lanky ex-thief, a kid holding a broom like a sword, and Grandma Death stretching with two knives between her toes.

Caelus grinned. “No. I’m not challenging you with them. I’m challenging you with me. And also possibly sabotage. YOU GUYS STRUCK FIRST!” …Ya’ll bully bastards!

DING!

>> New Quest: [Street Fight vs Royal Guard]

>> Objective: Survive. Win. Embarrass someone important.

>> Bonus Objective: Use traps. The dumber, the better.

>> Reward: +3 AGI, +5 Dojo Reputation, Possible Jail Time

[You better win this, kid.]

❖ ROUND 1: Dumb Luck and Slippery Floors ❖

The first Royal Guard charged forward—armor gleaming, sword raised, every muscle flexed like he was starring in an imperial propaganda poster.

He let out a battle cry worthy of a dramatic slow-mo montage.

“FOR THE CROW—!”

SQUELCH!

His foot met a mysterious puddle of shiny doom. Courtesy of Rat Boy's earlier oil and pigeon soup experiment. It shimmered like something outlawed in several kingdoms.

The Royal Guard’s foot shot up like it had plans of its own.

He did a full 360° spin mid-air. Sword flying. Helmet wobbling. Honor collapsing.

Caelus calmly took a half-step sideways.

And, because he was feeling generous, gave the guard a polite nudge on the back.

THWUNK!

Face-first into the side of a very angry, very territorial chicken coop.

A moment of stunned silence.

Then… CLUCK!

Explosion of feathers. Screams. A hen named Bertha the Beheader emerged, flapping with murder in her eyes.

[SYSTEM ALERT!]

> Trap Activated!

> Grease Effect: [Unseen Banana Peel Lv.10]

> Royal Guard A: -40 PRIDE, -3 Teeth

> Chicken Bertha: +1000 Bloodlust, +3 Critical Hits

> Crowd Morale: “Cackling Like Drunk Goblins”

> Public Opinion: “Maybe He is the Hero???”

“Phew!” Caelus brushed off his hands. "One down. Who's next?"

Another guard stepped forward, less eager now.

“Y-You’ve violated the Imperial Code of Article 43—!”

“Is that the one about jaywalking or rescuing orphans?”

“It’s the one about assaulting palace officials with poultry!”

[INCOMING!]

Guard Two came at him swinging.

Caelus ducked the first blow, rolled to the side, and snatched up a broom like it was a divine artifact. Not even a good broom. It had three straws and smelled like soup.

CLACK! He blocked the next strike.

WHACK! Redirected the guard straight into a cart of cabbages.

WHUMP! The cart tipped. Cabbages rained down like holy judgment.

Somewhere in the crowd…“MY CABBAGES!”

[SYSTEM UPDATE!]

> Improvised Weapon Proficiency: +1

> Royal Guard B: -15 HP, -100 Self-Worth

> Achievement Unlocked: “Monk Mode Activated (Kind of)”

> Bonus Effect: Crowd now chanting, “TRASH PRINCE! TRASH PRINCE!”

The third guard hesitated.

A smart man. Briefly.

Until Grogg wandered in holding a barrel labeled “Explosive Pickles – DO NOT SHAKE” and handed it to Caelus.

“…What the hell is this?” the guard asked.

Caelus shrugged. “Lunch.”

Then hurled it.

BOOM!

A pop, a sizzle, and the third guard was now airborne, trailing pickle brine and regret.

He landed in a noblewoman’s parasol two stories up. She fainted from scandal. The parasol did not survive.

Debriefing:

- Three guards: down.

- The air: thick with vinegar and feathers.

- Bertha: still chasing one guy offscreen.

- The crowd? Screaming. Laughing. Worshipping? Maybe.

Caelus spun his broom like a sword, struck a ridiculous pose, and said with deadly seriousness. “Let this be known: No one attacks my dojo... without tripping over soup first.”

DING!

>> Round One Victory Achieved: “Slapstick Showdown”

>> Status: Smarter than he looks

>> Bertha’s Loyalty: [Acquired]

>> Title Earned: [Local Menace Turned People’s Champion]

>> Crown Prince Affection: -30 (Current: “Internal Screaming”)

❖ ROUND 2: Grandma Death Enters the Ring ❖

“Child,” came the voice—a gravelly croak laced with the wisdom of ten thousand regrets and just as many unspoken murders.

Standing there in her shawl of raven feathers and orthopedic sandals, she cracked her knuckles like they were sacred relics.

“Can I murder them a little?”

Caelus, deadpan, broom still slung over one shoulder, didn’t even look at her.

“Just disable them, Grandma.”

She smiled. A terrifying, sweet-laced-with-malice kind of smile.

“No promises, sugar plum.”

Incoming Threat: Royal Guard B

Guard B, brave and stupid, stepped forward. His sword gleamed in the sun. His stance was textbook.

“This old hag threatens the Empire! Stand aside, and—”

FOOM!

She was gone.

Vanished.

Disappeared like the last cookie in the tin.

The guard blinked. And then—

She reappeared behind him, upside-down, mid-handstand on his shoulders like a goddamn ninja.

“Your aura’s off,” she whispered directly into his ear, as she pinched his neck gently—

POP!

Down he went.

Crumpled like a scandalous love letter into the dirt.

Still breathing. Technically.

But spiritually?

That man had entered a realm of shame from which few return.

[SYSTEM ALERT!]

> GRANDMA DEATH HAS ACTIVATED: Old Assassin’s Touch Lv.999

> Royal Guard B: KO’d

> Vitality: Missing, Probably Hiding

> Crowd Status: “Rethinking Their Life Choices”

> Passive Aura: +10 Fear, +15 Bone Snaps Heard Across the Street

A noble in the gallery screamed. “SHE’S A DEMON!”

“She’s my granny,” Caelus replied. “Demons are less judgy.”

Another guard tried to run.

He made it two steps before Grandma Death chucked a sandal.

SANDAL: DEPLOYED.

It whistled through the air like divine judgment from a retirement home.

WHAP!

Direct hit to the back of his skull.

He froze. Wobbled.

Then went down like a puppet whose strings had been cut by pure trauma.

DING!

>> Weapon Acquired: [Relic Sandal of Doom]

>> Critical Hit: 9999 (Blunt Force + Guilt Damage)

>> Local Urban Myth Progress: Grandma Death is now considered a wandering battle saint.

>> Achievement Unlocked: “Granocide (Non-lethal)”

Caelus gave a slow clap.

“Still got it, Grandma.”

She straightened, bones creaking ominously. “Child, I never lost it. I just misplace it sometimes behind my back pills.”

❖ ROUND 3: Caelus vs Captain Golden Pompadour ❖

Captain Aurent of the Royal Guard stepped forward like a demigod carved from pure military discipline and deeply repressed emotions. His muscles rippled under gleaming plate armor. His chin jutted out at a 45° angle, practically a legal weapon on its own. Sunlight sparkled off his square jaw like he had a divine buff for jawlines.

Frankly, too much explanation for a mere-background character.

The crowd gasped. A child dropped his soup.

“Don’t get cocky, Your Highness,” Aurent growled, his voice dipped in testosterone and nationalistic fervor. “I’ll make this quick, Trash Prince.”

Caelus stretched his arms, casually cracking his neck like someone about to ask a manager for a refund.

“Please do. My lunch break ends in ten.”

Combat Initiated!

CLANG!

Aurent struck first—a diagonal slash that would’ve split most men like firewood.

Caelus ducked. Barely.

WHOOSH!

Another swing. Brutal. Direct. Straight out of the Imperial Manual of How to Murder Peasants with Flair.

Caelus backflipped, narrowly avoiding decapitation, landing in a roll that looked a little cooler than it should’ve.

“Nice form,” Caelus quipped. “You kill many mirrors?”

Aurent roared and lunged, bringing his sword down in a vertical arc so hard the stone tiles cracked.

Caelus sidestepped.

And launched a precision kick—straight to the royal berries.

THWUMP!

Aurent’s face collapsed into a silent scream.

The world seemed to pause.

Somewhere, a bard fainted from secondhand pain.

[SYSTEM ALERT!]

> Critical Hit: [Target: Family Jewels]

> Effect: -99% Dignity / +3 Years of Therapy

> Crowd Morale: Uncontainable

> Status: Grape-Crushed

But Caelus wasn’t done.

He darted behind the staggering captain, cloak flaring.

“Time for my signature move,” he whispered.

Well, not like it’s a real thing. Got none of that shit. But I feel cool just saying that…

[Lame.]

Heh.

He whipped out a trip-wire rope cloak, wound it around Aurent’s armored ankles like he was prepping a roast, then yanked.

WHAM!

Aurent flipped mid-air, armor clanking like dropped cookware, before landing flat on his back with the elegance of a dying walrus.

FACE-FIRST.

INTO A BREAD CART.

Bread flew. A baguette stabbed into the ground like Excalibur.

DING!

[CRITICAL SUCCESS!]

> You’ve humiliated a decorated officer using dirty, questionably-legal street brawling.

> +5 AGI (Agility)

> +1 Reputation (Slum District: “He Fights Dirty, We Love Him”)

> Skill Progress: [Trap Mastery Lv.1] – 74%

> Title Progress: [Tactician of Petty Violence] – 31%

> Bread Weapon Unlocked (Passive: +5% Sass When Holding Carbs)

The crowd absolutely lost it.

“TRASH PRINCE! TRASH PRINCE!”

A vendor began handing out snacks.

A kid yelled, “DO THE THING AGAIN!” while holding a chicken like it was a foam finger.

From the bread cart wreckage, Aurent groaned. “What... what are you?!”

Caelus leaned over him, still panting.

“Lunch-deprived. And allergic to bullies.”

He grabbed the sacred baguette, twirled it like a sword, and saluted.

“Next challenger?”

❖ Aftermath: Victory... and Mild Panic ❖

The Royal Guards lay in a pile of unconscious grunting, feathers, and despair.

Caelus raised a fist.

“Let this be a lesson to the Empire: Don’t underestimate trash—especially when it fights back.”

The slum crowd erupted. Street urchins chanted his name. Old noodle vendors cried tears of pride.

Meanwhile, a noble watching from the shadows muttered, “The Trash Prince is becoming... a symbol.”

DING!

>> Quest Complete: [Street Fight vs Royal Guard]

>> Rewards:

>> +3 STR

>> +5 AGI

>> +7 Dojo Rep

>> +1 Enraged Crown Prince

>> New Passive: [Rogue Tactics] – Basic traps now apply confusion and shame

>> New Wanted Poster Unlocked (Nothing Serious): “Caelus Solari – Street Duelist. Mild Threat. Do Not Underestimate.”