Poop Mage: Manure Mysteries

The courtyard went silent as Professor Emberlin raised her hand, revealing the orb. It was larger than the last one, glowing faintly, colors shifting across its surface like a bubble. The teachers carried it like it was precious and fragile.

“For our final test,” Emberlin announced, “we will use the All-Element Orb. It’s special—it can reveal even the rarest magical affinities. Highly sensitive, it will show us your true potential.” Her eyes briefly met Bob’s, and he felt like a tiny mouse under the gaze of a hungry cat.

The crowd watched with awe. The orb buzzed with magic, the power within it making Bob’s neck hairs stand on end. And now it was his turn.

Bob shuffled forward, heart pounding. He tried not to think about his earlier mishaps—the orb explosion, the smell—but of course, those thoughts came flooding back. Get a grip, Bob. Just touch it. What’s the worst that could happen?

The orb felt cool and smooth under his fingers. He felt his mana flow out, like water from a leaky bucket. At first, everything seemed normal. The orb’s colors spun—reds, blues, greens, whites—beautiful and bright. The students leaned in, eyes wide. Bob’s fingers trembled with excitement. This is going great! I’m—

And then... things changed.

The colors slowed, twisted, then faded. Reds turned muddy maroon. Blues went gray, like dirty water. And all the colors mixed together, swirling into a dark, sludgy mess. Bob’s hands grew warm, and as he tried to pull away, the orb seemed to grab onto him, draining even more mana.

The colors all merged into a thick, dark brown, like the bottom of a swamp. Bob’s eyes widened. Oh no.

The orb started to shake. Slowly at first, then more violently, like it was about to burst. It pulsed with brown light, each thump matching Bob’s racing heartbeat. Pressure built inside, as if it were holding back something terrible, waiting for the perfect moment to let it all out.

“Um... Professor?” Bob called, his voice cracking nervously.

Before anyone could respond, the orb erupted—not in shards, but in a shockwave of pure stink. A thick, brown cloud blasted out, sweeping through the hall like a tidal wave. The smell was beyond words—rotten eggs, burning tires, and... well, poop. A lot of poop. The crowd didn’t stand a chance. Eyes watered instantly, and one by one, students and teachers collapsed, fainting like falling dominoes.

Bob stood alone, surrounded by unconscious bodies, waving his hand in front of his face. “Oh man... that’s bad.” Though, by now, he was kind of used to it.

“Congratulations, User!” P.U.M.A. chimed in, annoyingly cheerful. “You have achieved a record-breaking stink shockwave!”

“Y-yeah, great,” Bob mumbled, squeezing his nose shut with one hand. “Thanks for the support...”

Meanwhile, in the shared nightmare that filled the courtyard, students and teachers found themselves floating down endless rivers of poop. The brown sludge flowed in thick waves, and a few brave students tried to paddle their way on rafts made from the muck, using anything they could find—sticks, books, even their robes.

Cooper, ever the hero in his own mind, stood atop a floating pile, laughing like a pirate captain. “Onward! To glory!” he shouted, waving a stick like a sword, grinning as if this was all a grand adventure.

Most students weren’t so happy. They flailed around, trying to stay afloat as poop waves crashed over them. Some tried to hide in caves of sludge along the banks, only to be chased out by nightmarish “poop sharks” with snapping brown jaws.

A teacher, lost in the mess, tried casting spells of light. “Away with you, foul beasts!” she yelled, but the sharks only grew larger, their teeth snapping closer and closer.

Professor Emberlin stood tall on a poop-soaked hill, looking down at the chaos with determination. “We... will... conquer this!” she declared. But the hill crumbled under her feet, sending her rolling down in a stinky avalanche.

Meanwhile, Bob stood alone in the real world, watching everyone else passed out. He waved his hand awkwardly. “Uh... guys? Anybody?”

Nothing. Just silence.

Bob glanced at the cracked orb and sighed. Well, that’s it. World’s worst mage confirmed.

He sat on the steps, hoping things could only get better from here.

It took a while for everyone to wake up. Teachers fanned away the smell, and groggy students stumbled around, dazed from their poop-shark nightmares. Bob sat quietly, feeling like an outsider, wishing he could disappear.

Professor Emberlin finally regained her composure. With a stern look and a flick of her fingers, she cleared (mostly) the lingering stink. She forced a smile, the kind that only a teacher could wear when things had gone completely wrong.

“Students,” she said, her voice serious. “I commend you all for today’s efforts. Your dedication has been seen, and while some results were... surprising”—she shot a quick look at Bob—“many of you have shown the passion needed to succeed.”

Tension hung in the air like a heavy curtain. Bob swallowed nervously. Great, he thought. Time to see who’s in... and who’s not.

Emberlin called out the names of students who had impressed the academy, assigning them mentors. “Kalir Strongwind, assigned to Master Galeus.” The crowd clapped as a boy with wild, wind-tossed hair ran forward, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Amara Lightweaver, assigned to Lady Lumina.” A girl with glowing eyes stepped up, head high, her robe shimmering bright.

Every name felt like another nail in Bob’s coffin. No way they’d let him in after that mess. He glanced around, half-hoping to sneak out unnoticed.

Then came Cooper.

“Cooper Blazeheart,” Emberlin announced. The name seemed to echo across the courtyard. “Assigned to Mistress Ignira, our Flame Warden.”

Cooper strutted forward, all confidence, his smirk wide as ever. He shot Bob a thumbs-up as he passed. Mistress Ignira, tall and fierce, laid a hand on his shoulder. “You show promise,” she said, voice like steel. “Great things are expected.”

“Yessss!” Cooper hissed to himself, fist in the air. He flashed a grin at Bob. Told you I’d ace it! Bob forced a smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

Then it was Bob’s turn.

Emberlin’s eyes landed on him, somewhere between curious and concerned. Behind her, a row of old mages whispered, their long beards bobbing. One hunched wizard squinted at a parchment, muttering.

“Well,” he croaked loudly, “this one’s... peculiar, wouldn’t you say?” The mages all nodded in agreement, beards swaying like feathers.

“Peculiar indeed,” said another mage, his voice dripping with scorn. “I’ve seen many affinities, but never one that reeks like... a dungheap.” A few old wizards chuckled, their laughter like crumpling leaves.

“Agreed!” added a third, waving Bob off like a fly. “Unstable. Unpredictable. We can’t have... that... in these sacred halls. Not proper!” They nodded together, beards bobbing, and without a second thought, they scratched Bob’s name off the list.

“Next!” Emberlin called out, already moving on. She didn’t even look at him.

It felt like a punch to Bob's gut. He'd been tossed aside. Dismissed. His throat tightened, but he forced himself to swallow. The lump felt like a brick. So much for being a hero. He couldn’t even impress some dusty old wizards.

Then a voice rang out, loud and clear. “Wait!”

Heads turned. A young man stepped forward, taller than the others, with wild red hair that seemed to burn like flames. His eyes were sharp but kind. This was Merlin, the fire prodigy, a mage who cared more about potential than rules.

“You,” Merlin said, pointing straight at Bob. “Come here.”

Bob’s eyes darted around. “M-me?”

“Yes, you. The one who broke the orb. Step forward.”

Bob shuffled toward him, feeling small. Merlin's gaze swept over him, from head to toe. But there was no disgust. Just... interest. Curiosity.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Merlin muttered, mostly to himself. Then he turned to the crowd. “This boy—yes, he’s an odd one. But beneath that... uniqueness, I see a power greater than any of you know. He just needs the right guidance.”

The crowd buzzed with confusion. A few students snickered, and the old mages shook their heads, clearly unimpressed. But Merlin stood firm.

“I, Merlin Flameborne, will take him under my wing,” Merlin said, gripping Bob’s shoulder. “I see raw power. Wild, untamed... but full of potential.”

Bob’s eyes went wide. Was this really happening? Was someone finally going to help him? He nodded quickly. “Yes! Yes, please! I mean—thank you! I won't let you down!”

Merlin smiled. “Good. We’ll start from the ground up. And I’ll teach you how to handle that... explosive potential.”

The old mages grumbled, sharing looks that seemed to say, Poor kid, he has no clue what he's getting into. Merlin ignored them. He nodded at Emberlin, who blinked, then moved on like nothing weird had just happened.

As Bob walked away, Merlin beside him, hope flickered to life in his chest. Maybe this wasn't the end. Maybe it was just the beginning.

And if not... well, he could always be the best Poop Mage the world had ever seen.