Muck, the book. Day 6
Day Six
Fred woke up feeling refreshed. Well, as refreshed as someone who had fought Gronks, been chased by Gobblins, and slept on the floor for six days could feel. But today was special. Today, he was going to finish the ship.
He stood on the deck, looking over his beautifully repaired (and totally over-engineered) boat. It had everything: reinforced obamium plating, a working rudder (which, somehow, required Glue to fix), and a big, empty slot where the ship’s power crystal should have been.
That last part was the problem. Without the power crystal, the boat was about as useful as a Dave trying to tie his shoelaces.
Fred pulled out his map. According to ancient Muck knowledge, the Guardians were massive, laser-shooting nightmares that guarded special artifacts—including the crystal he needed.
"Alright," Fred said, gripping his chunkium hammer. "Time to find this Guardian."
With his weapons, food, and an unnecessary amount of Coins (which still had no use), he set off into the wilderness. The journey was quiet. Too quiet. No Daves. No Villagers. Not even a single Gobblin demanding revenge for the bean soup incident of Day 4.
Then, the ground shook. Fred stopped. The ground shook again. A massive shadow loomed over him. Fred slowly turned his head upward and his soul left his body. Standing before him was Big Chunk. Not just Chunk. Big. Chunk. A massive, stone-covered beast, taller than the trees, angry as if someone had just eaten his last snack.
Fred blinked. "Uh… I think I took a wrong turn."
Big Chunk roared and raised his giant stone club. Fred started running before he even had time to process his life choices.
"ABSKDJHASLKDJH!" he screamed as the club slammed into the ground behind him, sending shockwaves through the earth.
Rocks flew everywhere. Trees collapsed. Fred tripped over a mushroom, tumbling forward. Big Chunk roared again and prepared another mega-smash-of-doom™.
Fred groaned, picking himself up. "Oh, come on! I WASN'T EVEN LOOKING FOR YOU!"
With no other choice, Fred charged. He pulled out his night blade and slashed at Big Chunk’s leg. It was like stabbing a mountain.
Fred frowned. "Welp. That did nothing."
Big Chunk responded by smashing his club down. Fred barely dodged, launching himself out of the way just in time. Then, an idea hit him. He reached into his backpack and pulled out… a pickaxe. Not just any pickaxe. A chunky pickaxe.
Big Chunk paused. His stone face twisted into a look of betrayal.
Fred grinned. "Oh yeah. You’re not the only chunky one here."
With a mighty clang, Fred unleashed a barrage of hits. Big Chunk staggered, roaring in pain and confusion. Fred kept attacking. Swing after swing, until—
CRACK!
Big Chunk crumbled into a pile of stone, dropping rare loot everywhere. Fred stood over the remains, panting.
"I… I actually won?"
He wiped the sweat from his face and picked up the loot. Loads of chunkium ore yet absolutely no power crystal.
Fred sighed. "I fought that thing… for nothing?"
The realisation hit him like a Gronk sword to the face. He still had to find the Guardian. Fred collapsed onto the ground, stuffing his face with bread in frustration and sadness.
Tomorrow, he would try again. If another massive creature didn’t try to kill him first.