Steve had survived many things.
High school. A tax audit. The time he tried making soup and accidentally summoned a minor eldritch being named Kevin.
But nothing prepared him for this.
Because as he stood in the center of a village square, watching a chicken return from another dimension—with tattoos, battle scars, and a katana—he realized something awful:
He was becoming used to this.
---
The chicken stared him down.
Steve stared back.
Stefon pulled out popcorn.
Gary ate the popcorn bucket.
The chicken bowed. Steve bowed. They both charged.
What followed was a flurry of feathers, fireballs, and philosophical arguments in a language no one spoke but everyone felt guilty about.
---
Five minutes later, the chicken tapped Steve's foot with its beak and clucked out a single sentence in perfect English:
"You have earned my respect."
Then it exploded into confetti and vanished into the sky.
Steve sat down and whispered, "What the actual hell?"
A nearby farmer clapped. "You passed the Chicken Trial! You're a chosen one now!"
"A chosen what now?"
"Chosen One," the farmer repeated. "Of the Cult of Poultry Enlightenment. Our holy order guards the Egg of Destiny."
Steve blinked. "...Are you having a stroke?"
The farmer offered him a golden egg wrapped in ribbon. "Blessings be upon you."
Stefon leaned in. "I'm starting to like this place."
Gary tried to eat the egg. It bit him back.
---
Later that day, they checked into a local inn run by a vampire who swore he was vegan and offered garlic fries.
Steve sat with his feet up, the Egg of Destiny pulsing slightly in his bag.
Stefon paced. "We need to find allies. Someone with connections. Someone who doesn't ask too many questions."
"Someone like a barmaid with a mysterious past?" Steve offered.
"Too obvious."
"A disgraced prince turned mercenary?"
"Too broody."
Gary snorted, then bleated twice and made jazz hands.
Stefon's eyes lit up. "A retired lich who moonlights as a real estate agent!"
Steve blinked. "Those exist?"
"In this world? Of course. The housing market is murder."
---
They journeyed to the edge of a cursed forest, where the signs were honest:
> Warning: Do Not Feed the Trees. They Remember.
> Turn Back Unless You're Fireproof, Emotionally Dead, or Carrying Snacks.
Gary ignored the warnings and summoned a trail of floating cheese cubes as bait. The trees murmured happily and parted.
Steve mumbled, "I hate how effective that is."
Inside the forest was a house made of bones, cobblestones, and spite. A glowing sign hovered above the door:
"MORDRAK'S REAL ESTATE & UNDEAD PROPERTY SOLUTIONS. BUY, SELL, REANIMATE."
The door creaked open by itself.
Inside, a lich in a pinstripe suit smiled. "Ah. Walk-ins. Delightful."
---
Mordrak had a skull polished to a mirror sheen and eyes that glowed like caffeinated lava lamps. He floated behind a desk carved from a dragon's thighbone and smelled like mint and mild existential dread.
"I sell dungeons. Haunted mansions. Cursed castles. And vacation crypts. What are you looking for?"
"We're looking for allies," Stefon said, "and maybe a bunker or two. Preferably with screaming walls and minimum three bathrooms."
"Steve wants a library," Gary said. "For pretending he reads."
Steve flipped him off. Mordrak smiled wider.
"Ah, adventurers. I haven't seen your kind since the last prophecy got canceled."
"You remember the System?"
"Remember it?" Mordrak chuckled. "I wrote angry Yelp reviews about it."
---
As they discussed property listings and divine insurance policies, the Egg of Destiny began to vibrate violently in Steve's bag.
A beam of golden light shot out, burning a hole through Mordrak's roof.
Outside, thunder cracked. The clouds turned purple. A choir of deranged pigeons began singing.
From the egg hatched...
...a second egg.
Slightly larger. Slightly sassier.
It had eyelashes.
Steve screamed. Mordrak clapped. Gary fainted.
Stefon just nodded. "That checks out."
---
Suddenly, the front door burst open.
A man in golden robes, carrying a staff made from suspiciously judgmental wood, stomped inside.
"I knew the Chosen One would come here!" he boomed. "Hand over the Egg! It belongs to the Celestial Breakfast Council!"
Steve stood. "Okay. No. First off—what? Second, what?? And third, why??"
The man's staff glowed. "Because the Omelet War must continue."
Steve pulled his dagger. "This world sucks."
Gary woke up just in time to headbutt the man out a window.
---
They stood in silence.
The second egg made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sarcastic giggle.
Mordrak sighed. "I'm adding a window replacement fee to your invoice."
Steve sat back down. "Can we just skip to the part where a god tries to smite me and gets hit by a pie instead?"
"Oh," Stefon said with a grin. "That's Chapter Four."
---