Home / Fantasy / Department of unintentional Heroics / Chapter 2: Operation:Breakfastocalypse
Chapter 2: Operation:Breakfastocalypse
last update2025-08-11 21:35:03

Chapter 2: Operation: Breakfastocalypse

The Bureau’s official transport vehicle was called the Swift Response Unit Type-3.

Theo called it “the printer van” because that’s exactly what it looked like—a giant, beige office printer with wings.

It wheezed through the clouds like it was trying very hard to die but had a few more paychecks to collect before retirement.

Brie floated beside him in the cockpit, reading a mission file in the sort of smug tone that made Theo want to throw her out the nearest window.

“Grumbleton Suburbia. Average human population: 14,302. Notable crime rate: unusually high pancake thefts. The Waffle Cult, however, is a new addition.”

Theo rubbed his eyes. “Right. And remind me why this is my problem?”

“Because,” Brie said, “you checked a box.”

From behind them, Steve the goblin intern leaned forward with a clipboard. “Also, the last team we sent to investigate turned into maple syrup. Literally. We found the boots.”

Theo made a face. “You’re saying they were… de-people-ized?”

“De-people-ized is not a word,” Brie said.

“It is now,” Theo muttered.

Arrival

The printer van landed in the middle of Maple Street, which smelled like Sunday morning at a diner—if the diner had been cursed by a wizard with a sweet tooth and a grudge.

Every mailbox was shaped like a waffle iron. Syrup dripped from lampposts. Lawn gnomes held tiny butter knives like they were ready for war.

“Okay,” Theo said, stepping out cautiously. “Either this is the cult’s doing… or I’m still asleep in my bed having a nightmare brought on by bad breakfast burritos.”

A deep, ritualistic chanting echoed from the local IHOP, which had been boarded up except for a glowing sign that read:

“The Syrup Rises.”

Steve checked his notes. “Cult headquarters, obviously.”

Theo stared at him. “How do you know?”

Steve pointed. “They literally put up a banner.”

Inside the IHOP

The front door was guarded by two men in bathrobes, each holding a ladle like it was a sword. Their eyes were glazed (pun possibly intended).

Theo cleared his throat. “Hi, yes, uh… delivery? I have your order of one thousand blueberries?”

One of the guards narrowed his eyes. “You are not on the list of Breakfast Believers.”

Before Theo could answer, Steve stepped forward, beaming. “Of course we are! Praise be to the Great Griddle! May the Syrup Flow Eternal!”

The guards looked at each other, shrugged, and let them in.

Theo leaned down toward Steve. “You’ve done this before?”

Steve whispered, “I did an internship in Cult Relations. They always let you in if you praise their carbs.”

Inside, the restaurant had been transformed into a temple of breakfast madness.

The booths had been ripped out, replaced with altars made from stacked waffle irons. Pancake batter bubbled in cauldrons. And at the far end, on the syrup-soaked stage, stood The High Flapjack—a man in a golden apron, holding a sacred spatula like it was forged by gods.

He was in the middle of a sermon.

“And lo! The Great Syrup shall pour down upon the land, drowning the unbelievers in sticky sweetness!”

The crowd cheered. Someone threw powdered sugar into the air like confetti.

Theo muttered to Brie, “Please tell me this is some elaborate theme party.”

“Nope,” Brie said. “Scrying confirms they’ve summoned at least one class-3 Syrup Elemental. Two if they finish that chant.”

Theo groaned. “Great. So, how do we stop them?”

“Bureau protocol says you should infiltrate, assess, and neutralize without causing collateral damage.”

Theo pointed at the bubbling cauldron of pancake batter that was… moving. “Pretty sure that ship has sailed.”

The Situation Escalates

The batter rose from the cauldron like a massive, quivering blob, eyes forming in its doughy surface. The High Flapjack’s chant grew louder.

Steve whispered, “Oh no. It’s the Dough One. It’s one step away from evolving into the Syrup Titan.”

Theo’s eyes widened. “There’s an evolution?!”

“Yes,” Brie said. “And it will smother the entire neighborhood in syrup.”

Theo looked around, searching for anything that could help. His gaze fell on the buffet table—fruit, butter, whipped cream, a lone bottle of lemon juice.

“Okay, I have a plan,” Theo said, surprising even himself.

“Is it a good plan?” Brie asked.

Theo grabbed the lemon juice. “It’s a desperate one. Acid breaks down starch.”

Steve gasped. “Science? In this Bureau?”

The Lemon Gambit

Theo charged forward, weaving through cultists chanting about “the crispy edges of destiny.” He popped the cap off the lemon juice and hurled it at the Dough One.

It shrieked—a horrible, yeasty wail—and began to collapse. The High Flapjack screamed in rage and flung syrup at Theo like molten lava.

Theo ducked, slipped on butter, and slammed into the stage. The spatula clattered to the floor.

Steve, bless his chaotic little goblin heart, grabbed the spatula and smacked the cauldron, sending batter splattering everywhere. Brie zipped overhead, shouting coordinates for “strategic condiment deployment.”

By the time the chaos ended, the cultists were tied up with strips of bacon, the Dough One had deflated into a sad pile of goo, and the High Flapjack was muttering about “starting a pancake church instead.”

Theo leaned against a syrup-sticky wall, panting. “This… was my first mission?”

Brie floated beside him. “Yes. And according to Bureau regulations, you still need to fill out Form C-19: Post-Crisis Syrup Disposal Report.”

Theo groaned. “I hate my life.”

End of Chapter 2

Continue to read this book for free
Scan the code to download the app

Latest Chapter

  • Chapter 90: The Shard of Unspoken Truths

    Chapter 90 – The Shard of Unspoken TruthsThe storm broke over the cliffs of Veyra with a violence that made even Elliott pause before stepping forward. Wind ripped across the jagged stone, carrying with it the smell of salt, thunder, and something… ancient. Somewhere within the cavern below the cliff lay the next shard—called The Shard of Unspoken Truths.“I don’t like how dramatic this is,” Seraphina muttered, clutching her cloak tighter. “Storms never mean anything good in ancient lore. They’re always symbolic. And you know what symbols mean? Foreshadowing. And foreshadowing means doom.”“Or,” Quinn said, grinning as lightning flashed, “it could just mean we’re getting closer to winning. Heroes always walk into storms at the turning point.”“Tell that to the ones who get fried on the way in,” Seraphina shot back.Elliott adjusted his pack and looked at the yawning mouth of the cavern. Its edges were etched with strange runes that pulsed faintly with white-blue light, as if the stor

  • Chapter 89: The Road to the Loom

    Chapter 89 – The Road to the LoomThe dawn stretched thin across the horizon as the group began their march. The earth still carried the echo of the Harbinger’s retreat—scorched soil, twisted stone, and the unnatural stillness of a world holding its breath. The air itself seemed heavier, as if reality strained under invisible pressure.Kai led with uneven steps, Mira supporting his weight with one arm, though he tried to hide how much he leaned on her. Toren trudged behind them, his armor clattering with each tired stride, while Elira walked silently, her fingers brushing faint sigils in the air as though weaving invisible wards.No one spoke for a long while. The silence between them wasn’t emptiness—it was purpose.Finally, Toren broke it, his voice gruff. “So this Loom—what in the nine hells even is it? Elira, you’ve been rattling on about threads and tapestries, but I’d like something solid before I walk into another myth and get my other arm ripped off.”Elira exhaled slowly, gat

  • Chapter 88: Ashes and Resolve

    Chapter 88 – Ashes and ResolveThe storm’s remnants dragged across the sky like bruises fading into dawn. The plateau, once a place of ruin and fire, now lay in eerie stillness. Steam rose from the cracks in the earth, carrying the scent of scorched stone and ash.Kai lay propped against a boulder, his breaths shallow but steady. Mira had refused to leave his side, her sword now resting on the ground, her hand gripping his like an anchor. Toren sat nearby, his armor dented and blackened, the haft of his broken axe across his knees. Elira knelt in quiet meditation, her hands glowing faintly as she wove restorative sigils to mend what she could of their battered bodies.The silence felt heavy. Too heavy.It was Mira who finally broke it, her voice hoarse. “That wasn’t victory. Not really. He pulled back on his own terms.”Toren spat blood into the dirt. “Aye. Bastard didn’t retreat because we scared him. He’s plotting something worse.”Elira opened her eyes, the glow fading. “Perhaps bo

  • Chapter 87: The Harbinger's Gambit

    Chapter 87 – The Harbinger’s GambitThe light from the shattered hourglass lingered like an afterimage across the sky, gilding the storm in fire and gold. For one breathless moment, the battlefield stood suspended—neither victory nor defeat, only the trembling pause between heartbeats.Then the Harbinger roared.His cloak of shadows ripped wider, unfurling like a torn banner against the heavens. His form flickered, unstable, but his malice only grew sharper, more venomous. His voice cracked the air like thunder.“You think your defiance means anything? The river of time cannot be dammed by children playing at heroes.”Kai stumbled back, the fragments of the hourglass now dust slipping through his fingers. His chest burned with exhaustion, his body begging to collapse. But as the Harbinger advanced, Mira darted to his side.“You’re not touching him,” she hissed, her blade raised despite her trembling arm.Toren dragged himself upright, leaning on what remained of his axe. His breath ra

  • Chapter 86: The Shattered Hourglass

    Chapter 86 – The Shattered HourglassThe wind howled across the barren plateau, carrying with it the bitter scent of smoke and blood. Above, the sky was torn in half: one side a bruised red streaked with lightning, the other swallowed by endless black, as if the heavens themselves warred over who would claim the world.Kai stood at the center of the plateau, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. His once-pristine robes were torn and bloodstained, and his hands trembled as he held onto the broken fragments of the ancient hourglass relic. The Shards of Time.Around him, the party lay scattered, battered but alive. Mira struggled to her feet, her silver hair matted with blood, one hand clutching her ribs. Toren sat against a shattered stone, his axe cracked down the middle, his breaths shallow but stubborn. Elira knelt in silence, her eyes fixed on Kai with a look that wavered between despair and unyielding faith.The enemy’s laughter echoed.From the shadows of the storm, the

  • Chapter 85: The Ledge of Shadows

    Chapter 85 – The Ledge of Shadows The ledge was nothing more than a scar across the cliff, narrow as a knife’s edge, forcing them to press shoulder and cheek against cold, jagged stone. The air smelled of iron and dust, and below yawned an abyss so deep that no torchlight could have revealed its floor. A single slip would be enough to vanish forever. Elliott’s boots scraped, sending pebbles tumbling. He froze as they clicked against the stone, then disappeared into silence. He imagined them falling for hours, never striking bottom. His fingers ached from clinging to the rough wall, his knuckles bloodied, but the satchel against his hip throbbed with a steady heartbeat. The shard inside was alive, awake, whispering with every step. Above, Serath moved like a queen across the ravine’s rim, her silhouette etched against a sky of storm clouds. She did not hurry. She did not need to. Her shadows poured over the cliff’s edge in writhing streams, slinking downward like hunting serpents.

More Chapter
Explore and read good novels for free
Free access to a vast number of good novels on MegaNovel app. Download the books you like and read anywhere & anytime.
Read books for free on the app
Scan code to read on App