The phrase "selling your pots and pans" usually refers to someone who, in their most desperate moment, is making one last, all-in effort. In a time when "food is heaven for the people," tossing out your cookware means you've played your final card.
So, for anyone who smashes their own pot, most people would feel justified in rolling up their sleeves and throwing hands.
Unfortunately, it seemed the other side thought the same, especially when they saw the one already collapsed on the ground.
To make matters worse, their timing couldn't have been more awkward. They arrived just as Allen and the others were chatting with the wizard who'd come over to thank them.
The scene? A battlefield, still fresh with signs of a fight. A pot of porridge boiling nearby. A supposed ally tied up and unconscious on the ground. All in all, it looked like a victorious crew getting ready to feast after a good fight.
Which, let's be honest, was insanely awkward.
Allen desperately wanted to raise his hand and explain: "Hey, I wasn't injured in that fight!" But the real question was, would anyone believe him?
He didn't even believe himself. What were the odds? It was just too convenient. Who would buy that?
So while the two groups were bickering back and forth, getting red in the face, Allen quietly closed his eyes. But this wasn't him giving up.
With a chant that even he barely understood spilling from his lips, mostly because the incantation was so ridiculously over-the-top, half of it was just praising the cosmos with keywords like eternal, glorious, sublime, ancient, and so on, Allen simply decided to read it as-is.
As the chant neared its end, the stars above seemed to shimmer just a bit brighter. Neither group noticed, they were too busy arguing.
Then, just as the spell concluded, a streak of starlight wrapped itself around Allen's body. That's when the two bickering sides finally sensed the surge of powerful magic and turned around.
To their utter shock, the boy who had been lying uselessly on the ground, who they assumed could barely lift a spoon, let alone fight, was now rapidly healing, wounds visibly closing under the spell's effect.
This was not good news.
To both sides, the appearance of a third power at this stage was a huge problem. Whether you were part of the group that had just arrived (the "Pot-Smashers") or the ones who'd tied people up (the "Binders"), this unknown factor threw everything into chaos.
Of course, Allen was still injured and completely drained of magic, the healing spell had tapped into Soraka's Wish and consumed everything he had, but nobody else knew that.
From the other side's perspective, a new, powerful ally had suddenly appeared, just look at the mighty Tibbers!
Meanwhile, the Binders knew the truth: Allen had nothing to do with them. He and his group had just shown up by coincidence. In fact, from what just happened with Fras, who'd been chatting with them and was now tied up on the ground, it was unclear whose side Allen was really on.
Faced with this stalemate, Allen made a decisive choice:
He chickened out.
He was still badly hurt. Even if he pulled out a dagger and screamed "Demacia!" there was no way he could win a fight right now. This was not the time to get involved.
But as fate would have it, just as they say "trouble never comes alone," and you have a guy named Edward Murphy, when one door closes, you realize the whole damn house has no windows.
A Patronus came flying overhead, a massive ferret, and shouted a word Allen understood clearly, one that made his face pale:
"Urah!"
It meant absolutely nothing... except in one specific context: charging into battle.
Grabbing Annie's hand, Allen yanked her out of the center of the battlefield. Tibbers followed right behind them, trotting along. Sorry, big guy, but someone had to cover their retreat.
As Allen had feared, that one shout was all it took to ignite both sides into action.
The real fight had begun.
A killing curse flew past the corner of his eye and struck one of the captives still lying on the ground.
This wasn't about capturing anymore. The goal was clear: kill the enemy. The conflict had escalated into a bloodbath. And once blood was spilled, more was sure to follow.
Fortunately, Allen and his crew had already moved away from the center, so the first wave of attacks didn't hit them.
But it was only a matter of time.
There were eight enemies. Allen's group, technically, had only two real fighters. The diffAllence was overwhelming.
After running several dozen paces, Annie stumbled on a stone and nearly fell. Allen caught her just in time, otherwise she would've kissed the ground.
But it came at a cost: she twisted her ankle. She could no longer run.
"It's okay, big brother. I'll have Tibbers carry me. You're still hurt, we need to keep moving," Annie said with a brave smile, even as she tried to stop him from lifting her onto his back.
Only now did Allen realize how worn-out she was. She'd also taken heavy damage during the Voldemort fight. Not only had she completely drained her magic, but after he passed out, she had been caring for him nonstop, hunting for food, summoning Tibbers, using up what little strength she had left.
Run? Run where?
Allen laughed bitterly. He patted Tibbers and signaled it to sit, then gently placed Annie on the plushest part of its back.
"There. Good girl," he said, pulling a packet of multibean snacks from his bag, tearing it open, and handing it to her. He ruffled her hair and smiled. "Eat up. When my magic's back, I'll heal your leg. For now, just rest."
And what was the point of running, anyway?
He'd only come out to do some damn shopping, and somehow ended up in a life-or-death battle. For what?
Voldemort nearly killed him. Now these random mages show up and want a piece of him too?
Even a clay doll has some fire in it. What, did they think he wouldn't fight back?
Sure, he had no magic left.
But who said you needed magic to kill?
It's just killing. Why complicate it?
Besides, at this point, did it even matter whether what he was about to do was "evil" or not?
Allen silently summoned the system and tapped the button that had been blinking for half a year.
[CONFIRM]
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