The Chronicles of Father and Big Nunu
Series 3 – Chapter 1: Divine Summons and Immediate Regret
Three months of peace.
Three whole months of quiet mornings, successful fishing trips, and Big Nunu only causing minor property damage twice a week.
Father had started to believe it might last.
He was wrong.
It began with a single golden spark landing on his coffee mug. Then another. Then the entire sky above their Black Shroud cottage tore open into a dozen shimmering golden rifts that hummed like an overly dramatic choir.
Big Nunu came sprinting out of the house in her pajamas, hair a chaotic mess, holding a half-eaten loaf of bread like a weapon.
Big Nunu: “PAPA! THE SKY IS DOING THE FANCY THING AGAIN!”
Father (staring up at the cosmic light show): “…I was having such a nice morning.”
A glowing envelope of pure starlight floated down and landed neatly in Father’s lap. He opened it with the expression of a man who already knew his day was ruined.
The letter was short, elegant, and deeply concerning:
Dear Father and Big Nunu,
The Twelve have reviewed your previous performances.
They laughed. They cried. They have requested an encore.
New realms await beyond the mortal plane.
The stakes are higher. The chaos is approved.
Do not disappoint Us.
— With mild concern and significant curiosity, The Twelve
Big Nunu’s eyes slowly filled with stars.
Big Nunu: “Papa… the actual gods just booked us for a sequel.”
Before Father could answer, the largest golden rift above them expanded with a sound like a thousand trumpets and a slightly off-key kazoo. A radiant beam of divine light shot down and politely yanked both of them off the ground.
Father: “Nunu, if we die, I’m blaming your energy.”
Big Nunu (already spinning mid-air in pure delight): “Worth it!”
They landed hard on what looked like a massive floating amphitheater made of pure starlight and marble. The seats stretched into infinity. In the center stood a colossal stage. And sitting in the highest seats… were the Twelve themselves.
Or at least, divine projections of them. They looked equal parts entertained and slightly concerned.
One of them (who looked suspiciously like a very elegant version of Halone) leaned forward.
Divine Voice: “The Overgrown Spark and her Father. You have amused Us greatly. Now prove you can entertain on a grander stage.”
A new crystal — this one pure gold and pulsing with dangerous energy — floated down between Father and Big Nunu.
Big Nunu (already reaching for it): “Ooooh shiny new toy!”
Father (grabbing her wrist): “Do not touch the divine object without reading the instructions.”
Too late. The moment Big Nunu’s fingers brushed the crystal, reality screamed.
The amphitheater shattered.
They were flung into the first new realm of Series 3:
The Realm of Eternal Auditions.
Everything was a stage. The ground was polished wood. The sky was a giant spotlight. Random inhabitants kept bursting into song for no reason. And every single creature they met insisted on judging their “performance.”
A giant floating scoreboard appeared above them:
CURRENT RATING: 2/10 – “Needs more sparkle and trauma.”
Big Nunu (offended): “Two out of ten?! I just got here!”
A swarm of Critic Minions — tiny winged beings with clipboards and judgmental faces — immediately attacked, firing beams of pure disappointment.
Father drew his sword with a long-suffering sigh.
Father: “Here we go again…”
What followed was pure Series 3 chaos.
Big Nunu decided the only way to raise their score was to put on the most dramatic, ridiculous performance possible. She climbed onto a floating prop throne, raised her hammer like a microphone, and launched into the most unhinged battle-song of her career while smashing Critic Minions left and right.
Father, meanwhile, was forced to sword-fight while the realm kept changing the “genre” of the fight every thirty seconds — from action to romantic comedy to experimental theater.
At one point his greatsword turned into a bouquet of flowers mid-swing.
Father (deadpan, still swinging the flowers): “I hate this realm already.”
Big Nunu (mid-song, covered in glitter): “HIGHER SCORE, YOU COWARDS!”
By the end of the chaotic battle, they had somehow raised their rating to 9.8/10 through sheer stubbornness and pure father-daughter nonsense. The Critic Minions surrendered, throwing their clipboards in the air.
The golden crystal pulsed and absorbed a fragment of the realm’s energy. A new message appeared in the air:
Act One complete.
Proceed to the next stage.
Try not to break the cosmos this time.
A new portal opened — this one shaped like a giant theater curtain.
Big Nunu bounced over to Father, still buzzing with energy, and hugged his arm.
Big Nunu: “Papa. Series 3 is already better than the last two. The gods themselves are our audience.”
Father looked down at her — messy hair, sparkling eyes, absolute menace of a daughter — and couldn’t stop the fond smile that broke through.
Father: “Yeah… and somehow we’re still the main characters.”
He ruffled her hair.
Father: “Come on, Princess. Curtain’s rising.”
Together, they stepped through the glowing curtain into whatever fresh madness awaited them.
End of Chapter 1
Series 3 has officially begun.
The gods are watching.
The realms are wilder.
And Father and Big Nunu are once again about to make everything worse (and somehow better).
