The morning sun had barely risen over Evernight Manor when the castle trembled.
Not the gentle shudder of distant thunder, but a violent, broth-scented quake that rattled the silverware and sent a porcelain teacup clattering to the floor.
Evangeline, positioned in her highchair, paused mid-bite on a toast sword—Cedric's latest contribution to her "combat training"—and glanced at Lord Whiskerton. The cat's fur bristled as he leaped onto the table, golden eyes narrowed.
"Earthquakes are beneath us," he sneered, tail lashing. "This reeks of theatrics."
Before Evangeline could respond, the prophecy mark on her wrist flared sapphire-blue, etching glowing words into the air.
[Incoming Threat: Carbohydrate-Based.]
A servant's scream echoed from the corridor.
"The kitchens! The noodles—they're alive!"
Chaos had engulfed the castle's culinary heart. The stone floors swam in a river of steaming broth, and serpentine ramyeon noodles coiled around pillars like hungry vipers.
At the center of the chaos stands the ramyeon elemental, its tangled body glowing molten red, chili-flake eyes burning with malice.
Chef Marcel stood in the courtyard, ladle clutched to his chest, tears streaming down his flour-dusted face.
"Magnificent," he whispered, voice trembling with awe. "A masterpiece… alive."
The elemental roared, its voice a gurgling slurp that shook the rafters.
"FEED ME… NOBLES…"
Evangeline's brothers sprang into action. Cedric, ever the warrior, drew his sword and sliced through a whip-like noodle, only to watch it regenerate instantly.
Lucien frantically flipped through his ledger, muttering about "soy sauce vulnerabilities" while Dante rubbed his hands together, a manic grin spreading as he summoned flames between his palms.
"Extra Spicy," he declared, hurling a fireball. "Just how you like it!"
The elemental recoiled, its broth bubbling angrily, but the flames dissipated harmlessly against its noodle-armor.
Lucien toss a vial of stolen soy sauce, striking its core. The creature hissed, tendrils recoiling—then snatched the vial and drank it, belching a cloud of steam.
"Delicious," it rumbled.
Evangeline groaned. They were being humiliated by soup.
As Cedric's blade clashed with regenerating noodles and Dante's spells fizzled, Lord Whiskerton sauntered forward, tail held high.
Without a word, he leaped onto the elemental's writhing head, claws unsheathed, and began kneading its doughy form like a baker punishing stubborn bread.
"Unhand me, furbrain!" the elemental shrieked, thrashing.
Whiskerton sank his teeth into a chili-pepper eye.
"Make me."
The creature flung him into a rosebush, where he landed with a yelp.
"Planned that," he muttered, shaking petals from his fur. "Tactical retreat."
Evangeline's prophecy mark pulsed like a second heartbeat. Memories of the assassin's defeat flashed in her mind—the holographic EX' ACT dancers, the distraction, the victory. Gripping her enchanted pacifier, she bit down hard.
Light exploded across the courtyard. Holograms of EX' ACT materialized in a burst of glitter and synth beats, dancing Growl in flawless formation.
The ramyeon elemental froze, chili-eyes wide as the performers spun and leapt, their sequined outfits catching the sunlight like disco balls.
"Shiny," it gurgled, mesmerized. "Pretty…"
Evangeline pointed at the moat, babbling urgently.
"Goo! Goo goo!"
Dante didn't need subtitles. With a roar, he unleashed a fire spell into the water, boiling it into a scalding geyser.
Lucien throws a barrel of soy sauce into the steam, and the elemental, still entranced by EX' ACT's choreography, stumbled blindly into the trap.
"TOO… SALTY!" it wailed, dissolving into a puddle of harmless broth.
Silence fell, broken only by the drip of rogue noodles sliding off the roof. The duchess arrived, surveying the carnage with a raised brow.
"A ramyeon elemental," she said dryly. "How… inventive."
The duke kicked a limp noodle.
"Who'd dare attack us with soup?"
Evangeline's mark flickered, projecting a vision into her mind, a shadowy figure hunched over a cauldron, face hidden, their voice a venomous whisper.
"The Kraevia line ends here."
Lord Whiskerton licked broth from his paw.
"Someone's going to regret this. After my nap."
Unnoticed, Chef Marcel pocketed a glowing noodle fragment, his eyes alight with manic determination.
"Almost," he murmured. "Almost perfect…"