Armand du Croissant stood atop the golden balcony of his high-rise bakery tower, gazing over the City of Patisserie below. The streets gleamed like glistening icing, and the scent of pastries wafted through the air, sweet but hollow. Everything was as it should be.

  He didn’t need the real fvor anymore. He had something far more potent.

  Armand had risen from humble beginnings—once a mere street-baked croissant in the back alleys of Patisserie, an undercooked, fky dream. But his ambition had risen quicker than a baguette in a steam oven. He had learned the art of pastry manipution, discovering the dark magic hidden in puffed dough. His ability to twist fvor into shape became his weapon, and soon, he had transformed the city into his empire.

  The Croissant Empire.

  His golden pastry soldiers marched in perfect fke-formation, their buttery armor gleaming in the sunlight. At his command, they would topple anyone who dared challenge his rule—or worse, threaten his ultimate goal: the destruction of all “unrefined” breads.

  The Stone of Leaven was a relic. He had known it was only a matter of time before someone would find it. But now, with the Loaf and his ragtag band of rebels moving closer to the second stone, it was time for Armand to make his move.

  A messenger arrived, dropping to his knees before Armand. He was covered in powdered sugar, a humble scone—silent and trembling.

  “Speak,” Armand ordered.

  “The Loaf… he has the first stone. The Resistance grows stronger.”

  Armand’s eyes narrowed. “I will not let this… loaf spoil my pns.” He took a deep breath, the scent of fresh pastries filling his senses.

  The scone lifted his head. “The second stone is said to be hidden in the heart of the Baker’s Citadel, guarded by the legendary Crumbbeast.”

  Armand’s lip curled. “The Crumbbeast. That’s old folklore.”

  “It’s real, Your Fkiness. A beast made of stale crumbs and hardened crusts. It devours anything that comes near.”

  Armand paced, tapping his golden croissant staff against the marble floor. “Then we shall devour it first.”

  Meanwhile, miles away, the Resistance had gathered at their secret headquarters, a hidden celr beneath a crumbling old bakery. Rond the Rye pored over the map, his hands trembling with flour dust as he traced their path.

  “The second stone is in the heart of the Baker’s Citadel,” Rond said. “We’ll need to cross the Crumblends to reach it. The Crumbbeast is no joke.”

  “I’ve heard the stories,” Louie said, rolling his doughy shoulders. “But we have no choice. We have the first stone. Now we need to get to the second before Armand does.”

  Pita nodded. “We’ll move quickly. No time to waste.”

  Loxley the Bagel stretched his poppy-seed arms. “I’m in. Let’s make this dough rise!”

  Se, the cinnamon roll, carefully unrolled the scroll with the map, her gze glistening in the dim light. “It’s not just the Crumbbeast we have to worry about. The Citadel is protected by the Guardians of the Oven, elite croissant warriors loyal to Armand. If they catch wind of us, they’ll bake us into submission.”

  “You said it,” Louie agreed, “We move fast, we stick together. And we fight like we’ve never fought before.”

  They gathered their supplies—flour, yeast, and a fresh batch of weapons crafted from old bread knives—and set off for the Crumblends.

  Back at the Croissant Empire, Armand began assembling his forces.

  “It’s time to end this,” he said, turning to his chief lieutenant, a tall, elegant pastry with a powdered sugar mustache. “I will lead an army to the Citadel. We’ll ensure that the Loaf and his friends never find the second stone.”

  The lieutenant bowed. “Yes, Your Fkiness. The Guardians are ready. But, if I may ask… what of the Crumbbeast?”

  Armand’s golden eyes glittered. “Let it feast. By the time it finishes its meal, the Loaf will be nothing but a stale memory.”

  Back on the road, the Resistance was close to the Crumblends. As they approached the border, the ground underfoot became uneven, cracked, and brittle. The air smelled faintly of burnt toast.

  “This is it,” Rond whispered. “We’re entering the Crumblends. Stay alert.”

  Louie led the way, his crust gleaming in the twilight.

  Suddenly, a low growl rumbled from the shadows ahead.

  The Crumbbeast.

  A massive creature—part bread, part monster—emerged from the crumb-filled fog. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of jagged, hardened crusts, sharp as broken ceramic. Its glowing red eyes locked onto Louie.

  The beast snarled. “You dare come here? Only the stale survive the Crumblends.”

  To be continued…