Zane the Shadow-Walker was not having a good day.
His legendary Cursed Blade of Requiem had a giant, puppy-sized bite mark taken out of it. He was currently dripping wet, pulling a soggy lotus flower off his previously perfectly spiked hair after being flicked into a decorative fountain.
His party—the rogue, the cleric, and the mage—were huddled behind a coral-pink pillar, aggressively waving white flags they had hastily ripped from their own cloaks.
"I WILL NOT YIELD!" Zane screamed, his voice cracking slightly as he hoisted himself out of the water. Dark, edgy purple energy flared around him. He pointed his ruined sword at Leo, who was currently lounging on a sunbed, wearing sunglasses and reading a glossy magazine titled Tropical Destinations of the Eastern Realm.
"You may possess overwhelming, anomalous power, villain!" Zane monologued, striking a battle stance that looked incredibly rehearsed. "But the light of justice cannot be extinguished by a mere flick! I challenge you to a Duel of Souls! Right here! Right now!"
Leo slowly lowered his magazine. He peered over his sunglasses at the dripping, angsty teenager.
"Kid, it's 2:00 PM," Leo said, sounding genuinely exhausted by the sheer volume of the yelling. "Maya is napping. Elara is napping. Even the World-Burner dragon is taking a siesta in the caldera. I am not doing a 'Duel of Souls' right now."
"COWARD!" Zane bellowed, charging his ultimate attack. "SHADOW-FLAME REAPER STRIKE!"
Leo sighed. He didn't stand up. He didn't even drop his magazine. He just snapped his fingers.
Pop.
Instantly, Demon Lord Kaelen materialized from the shadows, directly between Leo and the charging teenager. Kaelen was wearing his impeccably tailored black-and-white butler suit. In his left hand, balanced perfectly on his fingertips, was a silver tray carrying a crystal decanter of sparkling elven champagne and three pristine, long-stemmed flutes.
"You rang, Lord Leo?" Kaelen asked, entirely ignoring the teenager screaming and charging at him with a cursed sword.
"Yeah, Kaelen," Leo said lazily. "This kid is killing my vibe. If he spills a single drop of that champagne, I'll fight him. Otherwise, handle it. And don't make a mess, Maya just had the patio swept."
"Understood, Patron," Kaelen bowed slightly, his red eyes flashing.
Zane roared, swinging his blade with the force of a hurricane. It was a strike meant to cleave a mountain in half.
If this were a high-end, cinematic vlog edit, the camera would instantly drop into slow-motion.
Kaelen didn't draw a weapon. He didn't even use his demonic magic. He simply stepped to the left.
His footwork was a masterpiece of absolute, humiliating elegance. He glided out of the way of the blade like a ballroom dancer. The massive shockwave of Zane's attack blew past them, harmlessly rustling the leaves of a potted palm tree. Kaelen's silver tray didn't even wobble. The champagne inside the crystal flutes remained perfectly still.
"Your posture is atrocious, young man," Kaelen critiqued in a smooth, polite customer-service voice. "You are overextending your shoulder."
Zane's eyes widened. "IMPOSSIBLE!"
He unleashed a flurry of a hundred strikes, becoming a blur of purple shadow-magic. He swept low, he slashed high, he spun like a top.
Kaelen dodged every single strike while performing a flawless, one-handed pivot. He literally ducked under a decapitating swing while casually wiping a tiny smudge off the silver tray with a pristine white napkin.
Over by the barracks door, General Pavan, Karthik, and Aman had snuck out and were actively filming the entire humiliation on a glowing crystal.
"Oh, he is getting cooked!" Pavan hyped in a hushed, aggressive whisper, panning the crystal to get a wide cinematic angle. "Look at the footwork! The butler is breaking his ankles! Karthik, get a close-up of the kid's face!"
"He's swinging at ghosts!" Aman laughed quietly, covering his mouth to muffle the sound.
Zane was panting, sweating profusely. His ultimate combo had hit absolutely nothing but air. "Stop... stop dodging, you cowardly servant!"
"A true servant anticipates the needs of the guest," Kaelen smiled warmly. "And right now, you need to sit down."
As Zane lunged forward for one final, desperate thrust, Kaelen simply stuck out his polished leather shoe.
Zane tripped. He flew forward, completely losing his balance, and slammed face-first into the obsidian tiles with a heavy thud.
Before Zane could even groan, Kaelen casually placed his polished foot squarely in the center of the teenager's back, pinning him to the floor.
With absolute, terrifying precision, Kaelen lowered the silver tray. He set one of the crystal flutes directly onto the back of Zane's edgy, spiky head. Then, with a smooth, practiced motion, Kaelen uncorked the decanter and poured a perfect, bubbling glass of champagne.
Not a single drop spilled.
"Service is complete, Lord Leo," Kaelen announced, picking the filled glass back up and handing it to Leo, leaving Zane groaning into the tiles.
Leo took a sip, turning the page of his magazine. "Excellent pour, Kaelen. Five stars. Now, point the Spiky Kid and his friends toward the gift shop and show them out. I think they've had enough adventure for one day."