Some roads are peaceful.
Some roads are scenic.
And some roads gather stupidity like stormclouds.
Aiden, naturally, found the third kind.
Six bandits burst from the trees like a traveling festival of crime. They were not tragic. They were not hungry. They were not misunderstood antiheroes waiting for redemption arcs.
They were extremely enthusiastic about being awful.
The leader dragged a hostage forward and pressed a blade to their throat, grinning like he thought cruelty was charisma.
"Good day, elf ornament. Hand over your belongings and try to scream with feeling. I enjoy artistry."
Aiden didn't panic.
Didn't plead.
Didn't soften.
He simply looked… tired.
Behind him, Senior floated serenely, hands folded elegantly behind his back, wearing the patient expression of a cultured immortal evaluating six disappointing cheeses.
The hostage-holder rolled his eyes skyward and snapped:
"I JUST WISH SOMETHING WOULD FINALLY GO MY WAY!"
Aiden felt something click inside him.
Not in his heart.
Not in his head.
In his soul.
A door opening.
A cosmic bell ringing.
A metaphysical "ding!" with terrible customer service energy.
He froze.
Senior's attention sharpened instantly.
"Aiden."
"I'm not doing anything," Aiden hissed.
But he was.
Or rather…
His nature was.
Newborn wish granters don't come with an off-switch. They don't get stability first. They don't get control.
They get instincts that wake up like startled lightning.
Senior's lips curved slightly — indulgent, dreadfully amused.
"Well," he murmured with elegant delight, "there it is."
"There what is!?" Aiden demanded.
Senior's voice slipped into that refined fae nobility that sounded like velvet laughter and ancient patience.
"Congratulations. Your fate has opened a storefront… and business, I'm afraid, is booming."
Aiden stared at him.
"I would like the storefront to burn down."
"Tragically, existential commerce does not accept cancellations."
Meanwhile, the universe, having discovered the door was open, joyfully shoved itself through like an excited cat.
The bandits began shouting demands like shoppers in a free sale.
"I want unstoppable power!"
"I want treasure!"
"I want everyone to fear me!"
"I want loyalty that never fails!"
"I want something amazing that never leaves me!"
"I want EVERYONE to listen when I talk!"
Aiden opened his mouth to protest.
The universe smiled like a mischievous god-child with a bucket of paint.
Payment required.
Style preferred.
Chaos mandatory.
The leader's sword blazed with glorious power.
He roared in triumph—
Then screamed hysterically.
The sword fused to his hand.
Burning.
Relentless.
Impossible to release.
He now possessed power that never left him.
In every miserable sense.
Senior nodded like an appreciative scholar.
"Permanent attachment. A refined execution."
The next bandit cheered as his armor strengthened—
Then dropped to the ground shrieking as the metal sealed to his body.
And itched.
So profoundly.
So deeply.
So cosmically.
A philosophical itch. A spiritual itch. An "I have offended existence and existence is laughing" itch.
Gold flooded the ravine for the third bandit.
He cried with worshipping joy.
Then realized none of it could move.
Not heavy.
Bound.
It belonged to the world now.
Rich forever.
Owning nothing.
Senior hummed thoughtfully.
"Symbolic, ironic, and educational. Excellent craftsmanship."
"STOP COMPLIMENTING THE UNIVERSE!" Aiden shouted.
The fear-aura bandit roared proudly…
Then learned loneliness.
Everyone fled.
Friends.
Animals.
Even his shadow lost interest.
The "loyalty forever" bandit smirked—
Until nothing in reality would touch him.
Everything slipped through.
Food.
Money.
Weapons.
Hands.
Perfect loyalty.
Perfect isolation.
And finally, the loud one inhaled.
"NOW YOU LIST—"
Silence.
Not magical silence.
Existence simply opted not to register his noise anymore.
He spoke.
Reality yawned.
The hostage ropes fell like the universe rolled its eyes.
The hostage bolted.
Balance satisfied.
Comedy complete.
Aiden stood there.
Horrified.
Impressed.
Emotionally exhausted.
Senior rested his hand gently at Aiden's back.
His tone shifted — dignified, wise, and unbearably fond.
"Lesson, Aiden. You are very new. At present, you are not a controlled art of wishing—you are a spark flung into a dry world. Your nature leaps to answer strong desire, wild and brilliant, and the universe… delights in handing you more to burn. With time and discipline, you will become a hearth: purposeful, steady, dangerous only by will. But for now, you are a wildfire, and wildfires must learn, must be guided, before they may ever be called competent."
Aiden exhaled into his hands.
"…I hate metaphorical arson."
"Yes," Senior replied gently. "Most promising students do."
"Yay," Aiden muttered weakly. "Bandit wishes."
Senior smiled.
"Yes. Quite."
They walked away.
Hours later…
Seris Valen arrived.
She stood. Silent. Displeased.
Catalogued:
Man fused to eternal fire blade.
Man screaming inside invincible itchy shell.
Man sobbing into infinite untouchable wealth.
Man existing as a fear hazard.
Man rejected by reality itself.
Man screaming silently into irrelevance.
She inhaled slowly.
Then:
"…I despise anomalies."
A terrified traveler crawled out of hiding and babbled the truth.
"They WISHED… and something ANSWERED!"
Seris didn't smile.
She also did not believe him.
"Wishing is a convenient myth," she said calmly. "Something did this. Something intelligent. Structured. And inconveniently theatrical."
She tested for magic.
None.
Divine intervention.
None.
Demonic contract.
None.
Just…
raw, deliberate reality compliance.
Personal.
Targeted.
Stylishly petty.
Her jaw tightened.
Not random.
Pattern.
The road pointed ahead.
The same direction something strange kept happening lately.
She walked.
Not chasing fairy tales.
Hunting facts.
"If someone is granting desires," she murmured, "I intend to find them. Preferably before they accidentally remodel civilization."
Somewhere ahead…
Aiden sneezed.
Senior smiled knowingly.
And the universe chuckled.
Because this was only getting started.