Silence.
Then…
Tremble.
In the wake of the poopocalypse, the air still held the warm, unsettling aroma of something recently unleashed. Floorboards groaned beneath invisible tension. Dust twitched like it, too, wanted to flee the scene. The crib rattled, disturbed by something not quite natural—but not entirely violent either.
And in the center of it all, gleaming atop the hardwood floor like a divine relic summoned by fate's strangest joke, was a single cube:
A six-sided dice.
Its surface shimmered with soft light.
And on its upper face…
[6]
The number stared back at the world as if the gods themselves had rolled it—and decided to make someone pay.
The moment it landed, a pulse rippled outward.
WUUUUUMMMMMMM.
A soft vibration passed through the air, like a heartbeat made of static. The dice lifted slowly from the ground, shedding golden light like it had been forged in prophecy and polished in baby spitted omited meteor.
A second figure rose with it—tiny, round, and utterly unaware of the universe bending around her.
Lyra Swift.
Floating gently, arms flung wide like a chaotic messiah in a wrinkled onesie, her hair puffed out in soft golden-brown curls, caught mid-flight like she'd been kissed by destiny's hairdryer.
And she was giggling.
Pure, innocent, high-pitched baby laughter—the kind that says "I have no idea what's happening but I AM the moment."
She flailed in the air like a pudgy superhero with no sense of gravity or consequence, spinning in slow motion like she was auditioning for Ultraman Cosmos: Infant Edition.
Eyes sparkling. Drool floating beside her like a sidekick.
A single sock orbiting her left foot like it had achieved escape velocity.
The glow wrapped around them both, pulsing, swirling, folding inward like magic was rewriting itself to acknowledge this new existence.
POV: Serena Swift
Serena pushed open the bedroom door, cradling a folded cloth in one hand and a light scowl in the other.
"I swear, if James forgot to wipe down the crib again—"
She stopped.
She blinked.
Then again. Her hand froze mid-air, still holding the cloth. Her mouth opened—closed—then defaulted to blue screen of nope.
Her brain short-circuited somewhere between baby, hovering furniture, and the dice necklace glowing like a holy artifact caught in a thunderstorm.
"What… in all the rotting hay is this?!"
The room looked like a magical barn explosion—
Everything was floating.
Sheets, toys, chairs, diapers.
And in the middle of it all, her baby—hovering midair, laughing like she just learned to fly.
The air shimmered. The dice spun. The crib rotated like it was being exorcised.
And then Serena noticed something... brown, drifting peacefully across the room like it had a destiny of its own.
She leaned in.
She squinted.
Her face froze in absolute horror.
"James…" she said slowly, voice flat, not breaking eye contact with the airborne menace.
"Is that... floating?"
James stepped in behind her, eyebrows raised. "Huh?"
He followed her gaze.
Paused.
Then, with the confidence of a man who had changed more diapers than dreams, he stepped closer, extended one calloused farmer finger, and booped the object midair.
He brought the fingertip to his tongue.
Paused. Smacked his lips like he was evaluating a chili recipe.
"…Yup. That's the stuff."
Serena made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a spiritual exit—still trying, and failing, to process what her husband had just done.
James nodded, completely unfazed. "Well. At least we didn't step on it."
He tilted his head, casually observing the orbiting disaster.
Finally—finally—his eyes moved past the levitating poop and scanned the rest of the room.
The floating furniture.
The glowing dice.
And their daughter, hovering midair like a possessed cherub soaked in giggles and divine mischief.
James blinked. Slowly.
"…Uh. Sweetie? What's happening? What should we do?"
Serena didn't answer.
Because she didn't get the chance.
BOOM.
A shockwave of light erupted from the floating baby and dice—exploding outward like a silent thunderclap delivered by an arcane sledgehammer.
The air rippled, furniture flipped, and Serena's apron was yeeted over her head like it had just lost the will to live.
The sound wasn't just noise—it was pressure. A magic-infused pulse that turned gravity inside out for exactly three seconds.
A burst of light sent James airborne—his Beyblade disciple arc had begun. He hit the hallway wall with a crunch, followed by a muffled 'oof' as a pillow claimed his dignity.
Serena barely stayed upright, gripping the doorframe as her hair frizzed upward like a lightning rod trying to escape reality.
The room—no, the entire inside of the house—twisted into chaos.
Cups shattered. Spoons clanged. One of James' boots flew across the ceiling like it had been summoned into battle.
And at the center of it all…
Lyra.
Still giggling.
Still glowing.
And now—arms raised—floating higher, like she'd just been crowned by the chaos.
POV: Dice
Okay.
WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?!
I'M GLOWING.
WHY AM I GLOWING?!
Is this it?!
Is this the final form of my suffering?!
Did the brown meteor actually trigger a goddamn evolution?!
GOODBYE #DiceRights
I was floating.
Floating, bro.
Bathed in holy light like I was about to be summoned by a final boss.
Lyra hovered beside me, giggling like she'd just unlocked a cheat code she couldn't read.
And the power—the power—it was REAL.
I felt something deep inside me… crack open.
Something ancient stirred—not as a whisper, but a surge. Like the click of a long-sealed gear unlocking. Pressure built in my nonexistent chest, as if some forgotten god had just flipped my "ON" switch.
Old strength. Buried magic. Forgotten weight.
I KNEW IT.
This was it.
This was the moment I'd been waiting for.
I WAS FINALLY TRANSFORMING.
Wings would burst from my sides. Or limbs. Or even a face. Anything. Just… something.
No more helplessness.
No more chewing.
No more rolling through life like a dumb cube of despair.
I'M NOT JUST A DICE.
I waited.
I braced.
I welcomed destiny with open… okay, imaginary arms.
I struck the Titanic pose.
Mentally.
Arms wide, chin lifted, spirit soaring—like Rose and Jack.
The glow brightened—then dimmed.
The air stilled.
Everything gently descended, floating softly back to the ground.
Even Lyra curled up midair and slowly drifted down like a smug little chaos goddess settling in her descent into the mortal world.
And me?
…
I hit the floor.
Rolled once.
Landed on a [3].
Still.
Silent.
Not even glowing anymore.
still… a dice.
…
…
This can't be real.
Muted. Powerless.
Untransformed.
I tried to glow again.
Nothing.
Tried to vibrate.
Nada.
I tried to summon flames… but instead, rolled like a sad pebble.
I thought the joke was over.
But no.
I'm still the dice.
FMDL.
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Author Note:
Author Note:
If you're enjoying the chaos so far, feel free to add this to your Library so you don't miss future chapters.
It helps me sleep at night.(Assuming cubes sleep. Which I don't. So. You know.)
New chapters drop daily until Chapter 10, then shift to twice a week — because apparently, I still have a day job. 😅
And hey — if you've got thoughts, drop a comment or review!Tell me what's working. What's not. Or just scream "HAHAHA" and run. I'll take it.
Thank you so much for reading. 💙
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