The carnival was alive with flashing lights and the scent of fried food, a perfect backdrop for Alastor’s latest display of unparalleled dominance. He sauntered up to the test-your-strength game, chest puffed, cane twirling in his fingers. A crowd had already gathered, eager to see the infamous Radio Demon prove himself.

With a dramatic sweep of his hand, he took the oversized mallet, grinning like a showman before a captive audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to witness a display of unrivaled strength and finesse!”

He lifted the mallet high, the muscles in his arms tensing as he prepared to swing.

And then—disaster struck.

The mallet slipped from his grasp mid-swing, launching into the air like a missile. The crowd gasped, heads snapping upward as it sailed over the booths, spinning wildly.

A second later—CRASH.

The sound of wood splintering and something soft exploding filled the air. A poor vendor was now buried under a mountain of pink cotton candy, only his flailing arms visible through the sugary wreckage.

Silence.

Then—uproarious laughter.

Alastor’s grin froze, his eye twitching ever so slightly. He straightened his coat, dusted off his sleeves, and adjusted his bow tie with forced nonchalance.

“Ah! A masterful distraction, yes! Precisely as planned!” His voice was far too loud, drowning out the cackling around him.

A child pointed at him, giggling. “He totally missed!”

Alastor’s eye twitched again. This was—humiliating.