Zeke stood before the Golden Colander of Judgment, still wearing the itchy Pesto Robes of Authority, and made an announcement he hoped would free him:
"I hereby renounce the Pasta Throne. I am no king. I am but a humble internet gremlin who once got banned from a ramen subreddit for posting spaghetti memes."
Gasps echoed through the Spaghetti Council Chamber.
The High Noodlemancer dropped his al dente staff.
Greg—now calling himself "Crown Prince Alfredo"—looked up from his ravioli throne-in-training. "But father! Your meatball statue's not even finished!"
Zeke shook his head. "I'm out. I don't even eat carbs."
...
The Alfredo Monks held an emergency council. Sacred linguine was burned. A lasagna was consulted. An omen was received.
Unfortunately, it came just as Zeke pressed the big red button labeled:
"FORMAL RESIGNATION (DO NOT PRESS DURING CUCUMBER SEASON)."
Bitty blared an alert: "Zeke. You accidentally sent a diplomatic insult to the Salad Federation."
"Wait, what?"
On-screen, a transmission opened.
An austere figure composed entirely of floating lettuce leaves and smug kale hovered into view.
"You have dared insult the freshness of our garden? You will be chopped."
The Lettuce Admiral sneered.
...
The next moment, Zeke was back in the Spatula Mech, now fitted with garlic bread jet boosters and a spaghetti grappling hook.
Tess's voice came through. "So. War with the Salad people."
"I TRIED TO RESIGN."
"And you called their god 'wet spinach' in six languages, apparently."
Bitty piped up, "I translated your resignation into diplomatic code. Apologies. I may have implied their croutons were… soggy."
"Bitty, why?"
"I'm petty."
...
War drums (actually timpani made from sauce jars) thundered as salad ships descended from the Balsamic Nebula.
Zeke watched as a Crouton Cruiser fired warning shots made of hardened kale bolts.
"Okay," Zeke sighed. "Time to defend the honor of boiled food."
He turned to Greg. "How do we negotiate peace?"
Greg blinked. "Peace? No, no—I've already printed T-shirts that say 'Tossed Salad, Broken Dreams.'"
...
The first shot of the Great Salad War was fired by a rogue celery sniper.
Zeke blocked it with his mech's Parmesan Shield, screamed something unintelligible about vinaigrette, and prepared to charge.
All while still wearing the cursed Pesto Robes.
"I swear," he muttered, "if this ends with me being emperor of the condiment galaxy, I'm uninstalling reality."