Poop Mage: Manure Mysteries

Bob's fingers trembled as he tapped on the notification, feeling a rush of excitement. Finally, something good! The screen lit up, sparkles flying everywhere, and P.U.M.A.'s trumpet fanfare blasted in his head.

"Congratulations!" P.U.M.A. announced, way too loud. "You've unlocked a New Spell Slot! Get ready for the Magical Draw Dial – Spell Edition!"

The screen spun into a colorful wheel full of symbols—flames, dragons, explosions. Spell names flashed by so fast Bob could barely read them all, but they all sounded amazing. "Infernal Slopjet," "Fetid Flamefountain," "Blazing Inferno Tornado"—everything screamed power.

Meanwhile, Merlin kept talking about "controlled mana streams" and "proper focus." But Bob was already lost in his own world, staring at the spinning wheel like it was going to change his life.

Bob took a deep breath, then tapped the button. The wheel spun wildly, colors and names blurring together. "Come on, come on," he muttered, his eyes wide. He needed something cool. Something real.

Slower... slower... and stop. The wheel clicked into place on "SCATterscorch Spray."

Bob grinned. 'Scorch' meant fire, right? Fire! Finally, something cool. Something powerful. And "Spray" sounded powerful—like a wave of flames shooting out, something to finally impress Merlin.

"Yes!" Bob whispered, nearly jumping. P.U.M.A. dinged, all proud of itself. "New Spell Unlocked: SCATterscorch Spray! A unique blend of fiery power and your... personal touch!"

Perfect. Bob could almost see the flames bursting from his hands. He couldn't wait to try it out.

"Excellent focus, Bob!" Merlin said, thinking Bob's excitement was from his lecture. "Alright, let's see those flames, Bob."

Bob nodded, barely holding in his grin as they headed to the training area. He could feel the spell buzzing inside him. The wooden target dummies stood ready, and a few students hung around, practicing or whispering. But he didn't care. This was his moment.

"Whenever you're ready, try the Fiery Bolt again." Merlin said, giving an encouraging nod.

Bob's grin widened. He was ready. He raised his hands, feeling the magic swell inside him. "SCATterscorch Spray!" he cast, throwing his arms forward. For a split second, he felt the power, the mana surging through him... and then—

For a split second, everything felt perfect. A fiery aura glowed around his hands, intense heat swirling in the air, crackling like a spark ready to ignite. Bob felt like a true mage, about to unleash a powerful, glorious flame.

But then... it wasn't flame. Not at all.

With a wet, violent SPLAT, a jet of steaming liquid poop shot from Bob's hands, like a hose gone mad. The stream smacked into a practice dummy with a forceful splatter, sending ripples of brown sludge in every direction. The dummy swayed back and forth, dripping with thick, foul muck that clung to it like sticky glue.

"What the—!" Bob choked out. He tried to cut off the spell, but it was too late. The mess didn't stop. It ricocheted off the dummy, like a bouncing, liquid pinball of disaster. It sprayed across the training ground, splashing over targets, walls, and... students.

"Run! RUN!" someone screamed.

The students scattered like birds in a storm, but the muck had a mind of its own. Each time it hit the ground, it split into more streams, bouncing wildly, spraying high and wide like a sick fountain of chaos. The mess rained down in globs, drenching everything. It was like a chocolate pudding nightmare—except the smell quickly reminded everyone that this was far, far from pudding.

"Ahh, my hair!" a girl shrieked, holding her nose as her long braids got soaked. Another kid ducked, but slipped, landing flat on his back in the muck with a thick squelch. Faces twisted in horror, noses scrunched up, eyes squeezed shut as the brown sludge spread like a plague. A boy in the corner was trying to hide behind a dummy, but all he got was a direct hit to the face.

Bob's eyes darted around in panic. "Oh no, oh no, oh no!" He swiped his hands in the air as if waving it away would stop it. It didn't.

And then, the savior arrived—or so Bob thought.

"Stand back, I've got this!" Merlin yelled. With a confident flourish, he whipped his wand out and started casting a spell to contain the mess. Bob's hope rose; finally, someone who knew what they were doing!

But the spell didn't go as planned. A bright flash, and then... nothing. Merlin's face tightened in confusion. Then suddenly, with a sharp POP, the muck surged again, this time spraying higher and farther like explosive fireworks of filth. Streams of liquid shot up into the air like geysers, creating an instant rainstorm of warm, sticky sludge that showered everyone below.

Merlin's eyes went wide, his mouth forming a perfect "O" of horror. "Oops..." he muttered, looking down at his own robe, now covered in a fresh layer of muck.

Chaos reigned.

A student near the edge of the training ground tried to blow the mess away with an air spell. Big mistake. The gust only spread the sludge further, sending it back into their face in a flying wall of brown. They flailed around, coughing and gagging, brown dripping down their face, eyes wide with panic.

Another brave soul thought jumping to higher ground would help. They spotted a nearby platform, leaped—only to slip mid-air, arms pinwheeling as they missed their footing. They grabbed onto the rail, but the momentum flipped them upside down, leaving them dangling like a wet sock. Brown globs dripped off them like melted caramel, swinging back and forth as they tried to wriggle free.

It was an all-out disaster. A war zone of poo.

"Make it stop!" someone yelled, their voice half plea, half cry. "Why does it smell like that?!"

The answer, of course, was Bob.

And then—ding!

"Congratulations, User!" P.U.M.A.'s chipper voice echoed in Bob's ear, as if unaware of the chaos. "You've successfully cast SCATterscorch Spray! +50 Stink Points awarded!"

Bob blinked in disbelief. "Oh, come on! Now?!"

But P.U.M.A. didn't care. "Keep up the good work! Remember, every bit of mess is just another step toward greatness!"

Bob's shoulders slumped as he looked around. Students were slipping, sliding, covered in muck. Merlin was wiping sludge from his eyes, trying to form any words that made sense.

"Bob..." Merlin finally said, staring at the steaming mess that coated everything in sight. "That was... well, unexpected." He paused, clearly searching for any silver lining. "But powerful! Very... powerful."

Bob nodded weakly, trying not to breathe through his nose.

Powerful? Sure. In all the wrong ways.

Merlin stood there, dripping with muck, his face frozen in shock. He looked between Bob and the training ground, where the brown mess was still spreading like a plague. "How... how did that happen?" he mumbled, eyes wide as if trying to understand what he'd just seen. "That was supposed to be fire."

Bob scratched the back of his head. "Yeah... maybe it was... deep down?" He tried a weak smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

Merlin blinked, then forced a smile. "Well, Bob, that's... certainly a lot of power. Raw, chaotic... but power nonetheless!" He nodded, trying to sound encouraging, though his voice wavered. "Think of your magic like a wildfire—beautiful when controlled, but dangerous when left to rage. With guidance, it can illuminate the dark or forge steel. You just need to learn to tame it. Just, um... focus on control next time, alright?"

"Sure thing," Bob nodded quickly, feeling like he was standing on thin ice.

Merlin wiped his hands on his robe, only to wince as he smeared more of the mess on himself. "Okay... okay," he muttered, thinking out loud, "we need a different approach here. A couple of days to prepare... yes, that should work." He snapped his fingers as if sealing a deal with himself. "Bob, come back here in two days. I'll have a new plan by then. And until then—" Merlin raised a finger, "no more spellcasting without me. Got it?"

"Got it," Bob said, holding up his hands like a guilty kid promising not to touch anything breakable.

Merlin nodded and began waving the other students away, who were grumbling and trying to scrape the mess off their robes. "Alright, off you go! Enough excitement for today!"

Bob shuffled off quickly, not daring to look back. As he walked through the hallways, the smell of muck followed him like an unwanted shadow.

Once inside, Bob tossed his soiled robe into a corner, wincing as it landed with a wet thud. "Okay, Bob," he muttered to himself, trying to pump himself up, "no more disasters. Study hard, control your magic, and be ready for whatever Merlin has planned."

Just then, P.U.M.A. chimed in cheerfully. "Great job, User! +35 Stink Points for your successful disas—spellcasting! Keep up the progress!

Bob rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, thanks," he muttered, swiping the notification away.

He flopped onto his bed, still smelling faintly of the muck, but he didn't care. He was going to figure this out. No more screw-ups. No more surprises. Just... fire magic. Real magic.

With that thought, he closed his eyes, ignoring the faint stink that lingered, and drifted off to sleep, hoping the next few days would bring a fresh start.