Celeste and the others snuck out of the base like a group of people who absolutely did not belong outside at noon, moving in a cluster that screamed nothing suspicious here.
They failed immediately.
Every time someone passed, they all tried very hard not to look awkward—which somehow made it worse. Topsy whistled. Mezzo pretended to stretch. Kirrin stared at the sky like it owed her money. Celeste hugged the shadows a little too tightly.
Hughes nearly caught them outright.
“Arcade,” he called, stepping out from between two tents. “Where are you headed?”
Arcade froze for half a second, then snapped into motion like a badly written improv actor.
“Oh! Uh—maintenance,” he said, pointing vaguely. “Cold-very cold… antenna… thing. You know. Antennas love the sun.”
Hughes squinted.
Arcade nodded far too enthusiastically. “Very sun-sensitive.”
A long pause.
“…Don’t break anything,” Hughes said finally.
Arcade saluted. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
They didn’t breathe again until they were well clear of the camp.
Once the ruined square came into view, Bracer slowed and crouched, examining the ground.
“Hold up.”
He pointed.
Two sets of tracks cut through the debris.
One led deeper into the square—toward the gumball suspended above.
The other veered away, heavier, more deliberate—leading toward the stadium.
Arcade frowned. “That’s not random. That’s territory.”
Bracer’s jaw tightened.
“…That’s where the Minotaur lives,” he said quietly.
Kirrin stiffened. “Anyone who goes past the stadium doesn’t come back.”
Mezzo didn’t even try to joke this time.
“Strong recommendation: we do not go near that.”
Celeste nodded immediately.
“Agreed. Square first. We get in, get Bonbon, get out.”
Mezzo glanced back at the stadium anyway, jaw tight.
“Still—how do you even kill something like that?”
He grimaced.
“We could try levelling up like the Nommiepedia recommends.”
Arcade snorted. “We really need to update that thing. ‘Just grind until boss stops existing’ is not a strategy.”
Bartleby adjusted his grip on his rifle, eyes fixed upward on the faint glow of the gumball in the distance.
His voice was quiet when he spoke.
“I’ve seen so many dragged up there,” he said. “Friends. Family. People who didn’t even have time to scream.”
He swallowed.
“Hopefully… some of them are still alive.”
The group fell silent.
Above them, the gumball glimmered faintly against the clouds—too still, too quiet, wrapped in webs and guarded by something that slept only because it had been sung to.
Bartleby cleared his throat.
“If I might ask a favour…”
Celeste looked at him at once. “Of course.”
Bartleby’s ears lowered behind his glasses.
“A considerable number of my family are missing. Cousins, mostly. Aunts. Two nephews. A dreadful great-uncle nobody likes but who does, unfortunately, remain technically family.”
His attempted joke died quickly.
“It is one of the reasons I have been… filling in everywhere. For Lady Umbranox. For my own house duties. For Lord Silver’s office. There are fewer of us than there ought to be, and the gaps need paper over them.”
He adjusted his coat, but his paws were trembling.
“So, while we are there, if there is any chance—any chance at all—that we might look for them…”
His voice thinned.
“Only if it does not endanger the mission, naturally. I know Bonbon is the priority. I only mean—if we see them. If there is time. If it is possible.”
Celeste’s expression softened.
“Sure,” she said. “No problem.”
Bartleby blinked, as though he had expected conditions, hesitation, perhaps a small council of emotional bureaucracy.
“No problem?”
Celeste nodded firmly.
“We’re going in to rescue people. Your family counts as people.”
Mezzo lifted one finger.
“Provided we don’t get captured or eaten.”
Kirrin winced. “Or turned into zombies.”
Bartleby’s face went faintly green. “Yes. Thank you for that stabilising reminder.”
Celeste hugged Bonbon’s doll tighter.
“And we need to find the villagers too,” she said. “The ones Crackjaw took. If they’re alive, we bring them out.”
Arcade groaned softly and rubbed his face.
“Seriously, we need to name this settlement soon. Calling them ‘the villagers’ every five minutes is weirdly ominous.”
Topsy bounced. “Snacktown.”
“No,” Arcade said at once.
“Biscuit Hollow?”
“No.”
Mezzo squinted thoughtfully. “Gumball’s Regret?”
“Absolutely not,” Celeste said.
Arcade straightened, eyes gleaming with terrible confidence.
“I’m thinking Arcadetopia.”
There was a pause.
Mezzo turned to him slowly.
“No way. Your ego wouldn’t fit through the gate.”
Arcade punched his arm.
Not hard.
But with feeling.
Mezzo yelped dramatically anyway.
“Assault! Betrayal! Violence against beautiful people!”
“You’ll live,” Arcade muttered.
Bracer looked at the gumball again, expression grim but not untouched by the absurdity.
“Name it after we survive it.”
That settled them.
For now.
Celeste tightened her grip on Bonbon’s doll.
“Then we don’t mess this up,” she said softly.
And together, they moved toward the square.
They reached the plaza just as the wind picked up.
Autumn leaves skittered across cracked stone, scraping softly against overturned benches and broken stalls. High above them, silhouetted against the pale sky, the gumball hung suspended—looming, unreal, its surface catching the light like a watchful eye.
Topsy craned her neck.
“…It was way higher up than I thought,” she said. “I don’t remember it being that high when it was trying to murder us.”
Mezzo sucked in a breath. “How in the seven hells do they keep it up there?” he asked. “That thing looks heavy.”
Arcade crouched at the edge of the mist and lifted two fingers.
“Before we do anything stupid,” he murmured, “I want eyes on that thing.”
A soft chirp answered him.
C.H.I.P. detached from Arcade’s shoulder and shrank down to drone-scale, optics dimming as he slid silently upward into the fog.
“INITIATING LONG-RANGE SCAN,” C.H.I.P. whispered. “STEALTH MODE ENGAGED. HEROIC SELF-DESTRUCTION UNLIKELY BUT NOT IMPOSSIBLE.”
He hovered high above the plaza, light rippling invisibly across the gumball as he mapped its surface and what lay beneath.
A pause.
Then—
“Oh,” C.H.I.P. said.
Arcade stiffened. “Oh what?”
“DETECTED: MASSIVE INTERNAL POWER SOURCE,” C.H.I.P. replied. “NOT MECHANICAL. NOT PURE MANA. CLASSIFICATION: UNCOMFORTABLE.”
Celeste’s stomach tightened.
“ALSO DETECTING LIFE SIGNS,” C.H.I.P. continued. “ONE MOMENT PLEASE.”
He paused again.
“…THIS WILL TAKE A WHILE.”
Mezzo leaned closer, whispering, “That’s a lot, isn’t it.”
“YES,” C.H.I.P. said cheerfully. “THOUSANDS. HYBRIDS. MYTHICS. PUREBLOODS. CHILDREN INCLUDED. COUNT EXCEEDS MY READOUT CAPACITY. I AM GOING TO STOP LISTING THEM NOW FOR EMOTIONAL REASONS.”
No one spoke.
The gumball pulsed softly overhead.
Arcade swallowed. “So it’s not just storage.”
“NEGATIVE,” C.H.I.P. replied. “CONCLUSION: THIS STRUCTURE IS A BATTERY.”
The wind stirred the grass around them.
Celeste closed her eyes once.
Then opened them.
“Dear me,” she whispered. “Let's try and sneak in.”
They moved.
Under cover of mist, they crept closer until the full scale of it came into view.
The gumball loomed ahead like a nightmare spun from sugar and steel—an enormous orb webbed in syrupy cables, pulsing softly in the dusk light. Around it, hundreds of pods were being hauled skyward on grotesque strands of sticky web and stretched gum.
Candy pods—glowing like gumdrop sarcophagi—were being sealed around each captured hybrid and mythic. Mechanized arms spun thick cords of gum-thread around them like silk.
The pods were then reeled upward.
Pulled into the sky on a vast gummy spiderweb, taut and shuddering with movement.
The web glistened across the city’s upper dome, feeding straight into the mouth of the gumball like some surreal, sugar-fueled nightmare.
Bartleby adjusted his coat, already backing away. “I’ll head back,” he said briskly. “Keep the Council from interfering. Also—very importantly—keep Ray off your back.”
Plum’s voice crackled through Celeste’s arcbracer.
“Hey, guys—where are you?” she asked. “Carys is worried and Ray is storming around like a caged tornado.”
Bartleby froze.
“…On second thought,” he said quickly, straightening, “I am absolutely staying right here. If Ray is angry, I am not risking her wrath by being seen in motion.”
“Wise,” Mezzo nodded solemnly.
Celeste turned back to the gumball, forcing herself to focus.
“All right,” she said. “Kirrin can help fly some of the children down once we get them loose. Bracer, Arcade, and I go into the base.”
She glanced at Mezzo and Topsy.
Mezzo’s mouth dropped open. “Hey—what? No, no, absolutely not—”
“Please?” he added immediately, clasping his hands together. “I’m very fast and only occasionally loud.”
Topsy bounced on her heels. “Pick us! Pick us! We’re very distracting!”
Celeste shook her head, firm but gentle.
“I need a tech expert inside,” she said, nodding to Arcade. “And Bracer needs to find his squad. I need the fastest runner outside—and I need Topsy’s rocket launcher to keep the heat off them while we move civilians.”
Mezzo’s shoulders slumped. “…Rude.”
Topsy pumped a fist. “YES. I get to explode things responsibly.”
Celeste stepped closer to Mezzo, lowering her voice.
“If I don’t make it out,” she said quietly, “don’t wait for me. Focus on the civilians.”
Mezzo’s face hardened instantly.
“Don’t say that,” he snapped. Then he pulled her into a tight hug before she could argue. “You’re coming back, princess. I don’t care what the universe thinks.”
He squeezed once, hard, then pulled back with a crooked grin. “Go do the stupid brave thing. We’ll do the loud one.”
Celeste nodded, throat tight.
Kirrin swept silently into position, wings barely disturbing the air. She tapped her comms crystal once, twice.
“All clear,” her voice whispered through the link. “For now.”
The gumball loomed ahead like a nightmare spun from sugar and steel—an enormous orb webbed in syrupy cables, pulsing softly in the dusk light. Around it, hundreds of pods were being hauled skyward on grotesque strands of sticky web and stretched gum. The pods glistened—soft and round, like melted sweets—and inside many of them, something moved.
The zombies didn’t speak.
They listened.
Their glowing eyes stared skyward, unblinking, ears twitching toward a distant, haunting sound—a lullaby made of static and strings, leaking from the very heart of the gumball. The song pulsed like a beacon, low and rhythmic, as if guiding them toward sleep… or submission.
Celeste crouched low in the grass, heart hammering so hard she was sure it would give them away.
They’d snuck close under cover of mist—just far enough to see the scale of it all. She could barely breathe. Arcade, Bracer, and Mezzo huddled behind her, silent, tense.
They waited.
Waited for the perfect moment.
This is insane, Celeste thought. Trapping myself in a pod. Letting them take me up there.
Her pulse spiked. She hated small spaces.
She didn’t know why.
Do it for Bonbon.
With trembling hands, she reached out and touched the outer shell of one of the pods. It gave slightly beneath her fingers—warm and pliable, like bubblegum. Soft. Gooey. But strangely dry.
No stickiness.
No resistance.
Just warmth.
She shivered and slid inside.
Outside, Mezzo shoved the pods hard enough to draw attention, giving Celeste one last crooked smile before ducking back.
Inside the pod, the world went dim and close.
Celeste’s breath fogged the translucent shell. The lullaby seeped in immediately, heavier now, pressing against her thoughts like a weighted blanket. Her eyelids fluttered.
No. No—stay awake.
Seconds later, the zombies noticed.
They didn’t hesitate.
No alarms. No cries.
Just obedience.
Dozens of decayed hands reached out, lifting the pods with unnerving care and setting them onto the rising track as gently as if they were precious cargo.
Inside, Celeste, Arcade, and Bracer held their breath.
The song grew louder.
The pod muffled it slightly, but the melody still pressed in—warm, insistent—like it wanted inside their minds.
They rose.
Past twisted scaffolding.
Past syrup-dripping cables.
They passed the slumbering dragon, nestled in coils of sticky web. Its scales glistened red and gold in the low light.
A massive eye flicked open.
Celeste’s blood ran cold.
The eye stared directly at her pod.
Time stretched.
Her heart thundered. Her muscles locked. Even her thoughts froze.
And then—
The eye closed again.
The dragon’s breathing deepened.
The song continued.
Don’t breathe, Celeste told herself.
Don’t move.
And the gumball swallowed them whole.
