Chapter 9 – Where Cracks Meet Crust “Some desserts are made to meet. The recipe just takes time.” Pastry steam rose from the rooftops of early-morning Pastrypolis. Crust vendors opened their carts, cream lines hummed to life, and syrup tankers rumbled down ganache-slicked streets. But under the surface… something was shifting. Strawbrawler walked the alleyways of lower Pastrypolis — not hiding, not hunting, just being seen. The match in the dessert ring had spread. Some cheer

“He was cracked. He was mocked. He was trained. Now, he stands.” The alley was darker than usual — not because the sun was gone, but...

“To rise… you must first be chilled, cracked, and pressed.” Strawbrawler pushed out of the paper bag. The alley was still cold, still...

“Somewhere in the dark… something lit up.” The alley behind The Whisk & Dash food truck was quiet now. The hum of service was gone, and...

Long before he was Strawbrawler, he was just another slice waiting to be discarded. It was late afternoon in Pastrypolis , and the food...