The morning sun bathed the Loud family's backyard in a golden glow, filtering through the trees and casting dappled shadows across the grass. Lincoln Loud sat comfortably on the wooden deck, leaning against the railing with a relaxed smile on his face. He liked spending time with Luna yesterday and now today was time to spend time with Luan.

Luan dressed in her usual yellow attire and suspender skirt, stood before him. "Alright, Linc! I've been working on some new comedy props, and I need a test subject. Volunteer?"

Lincoln chuckled. "You know me, Luan. I'm always up for some good old-fashioned slapstick!"

Luan clapped her hands together. "That's the spirit! Now, behold—the flower squirt 2.0!" She gestured dramatically to the plastic daisy pinned to her suspenders. "This one's supposed to have an extra splash. Get ready to be amazed, little bro!"

Unknown to either of them, a pair of sinister eyes watched from the dense foliage beyond the fence. Korde, cloaked in a veil of magic, lurked unseen. His plan was unfolding perfectly. The previous battle had left him weakened, but he had no intention of retreating forever. No—he had found another way to exact his revenge. With a precise flick of his fingers, he had seamlessly swapped Luan's harmless gag flower with a cursed one, its reservoir now filled with a potent sleeping gas. It was only a matter of time before the prank-loving Loud unwittingly used it on her beloved brother.

Luan, completely oblivious, adjusted the flower's nozzle. "Alright, Lincoln, prepare for the ultimate drench—er, I mean, a light sprinkle."

Lincoln chuckled. "Hit me with your best shot."

With a squeeze of the bulb hidden behind her suspender strap, Luan activated the flower. But instead of a harmless jet of water, a thick, colorless gas burst forth, engulfing Lincoln's face in a swirling mist. His laughter died in his throat, replaced by a confused cough. His eyelids grew heavy in an instant, and the world around him blurred.

"Luan…?" His voice was barely a whisper before his knees buckled. He collapsed onto the grass, his limbs limp, his breathing slow and deep.

Luan gasped, the humor instantly vanishing from her face. "Lincoln? Lincoln!" She knelt beside him, shaking his shoulders. "Come on, bro, quit clowning around!"

But he didn't respond.

Panic shot through Luan like a bolt of electricity. "No, no, no—this isn't funny anymore! Wake up, Linc! It's just a joke!"

A sinister chuckle broke the tense silence.

Luan's head snapped up, her heart hammering in her chest as a tall, shadowed figure stepped forward from the cover of the trees. The air around him seemed to warp slightly, his presence bringing with it an unnatural chill. Korde's golden eyes gleamed with malice as he strode forward, his long fingers curling at his sides.

"Ah, what a sight," he mused, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "The ever-protective sister, powerless as her beloved brother falls into my grasp."

Luan instinctively moved in front of Lincoln's unconscious form, shielding him from the warlock's gaze. Her brown eyes narrowed. "You!" she spat. "What did you do to my brother?!"

Korde smirked. "I merely... made a few adjustments to your little prank. Quite effective, don't you think?" He tilted his head, his smirk widening. "And now, dear girl, you have a choice. Hand Lincoln over to me, and I might just let you walk away unharmed."

Luan's hands clenched into fists. "Not a chance! You already tried to take him once, and my older sisters kicked your butt! You really think I'm gonna just hand him over to you now?"

Korde's smirk faded, replaced by a sneer. "Do you truly believe you can stop me, little clown?"

Luan gritted her teeth. "You'd be surprised what a clown can do."

In one swift motion, she reached into her comedy kit—a belt of various prank props—and pulled out a handful of marbles. With an underhanded toss, she scattered them across the grass between them. Korde barely had time to react before his foot landed on one of the small spheres. He wobbled ungracefully before toppling backward with a frustrated grunt.

Luan wasted no time. "Boom, slapstick!" she quipped before pulling out a canister labeled Instant Banana Peels. With a quick shake, she popped the top, and several rubbery banana peels shot out, landing precisely where Korde was trying to stand up.

He growled as he attempted to regain his footing, but the peels sent him slipping and sliding in all directions. His elegant poise crumbled into a series of uncoordinated flails.

"Why you insufferable—" Korde snarled, his patience wearing thin. He raised a hand, dark magic crackling at his fingertips.

Luan knew she had to act fast. She grabbed a classic whoopee cushion, pressed it to her mouth, and blew into it with a deep breath. But instead of the usual comedic fart sound, she had modified this one. As soon as she squeezed it, a deafening air horn blast echoed through the backyard.

Korde recoiled, clutching his ears as the noise disoriented him.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Luan grabbed a coiled-up rope she had hidden behind her prank station. With practiced precision—courtesy of her stage performances—she flung it forward, looping it around Korde's ankles. With one strong yank, the warlock's legs were swept from under him, and he hit the ground hard.

Luan panted, standing over him with her arms spread protectively in front of Lincoln. "You want my brother?" she said, voice firm and unwavering. "You're going to have to go through me first."

Korde's eyes flared with anger, but beneath it, there was something else—begrudging respect. He hadn't expected such resistance from the prankster of the family. He had underestimated her.

Luan, however, wasn't about to let up. She reached into her comedy kit, her fingers curling around the perfect weapon. "Hey, Korde," she called, grinning ear to ear. "Why so serious?"

With a swift motion, she flung a cream pie straight at his face.

SPLAT!

The warlock staggered back, his vision instantly consumed by thick layers of whipped cream. He let out a muffled growl and wiped furiously at his eyes, but before he could react, another pie struck him square in the chest. Then another. And another.

Luan had turned into a one-woman pie-throwing machine, hurling them with rapid precision. "You know," she said between throws, "they say comedy is all about—SPLAT!—timing!"

Korde bellowed in frustration, raising his hands to summon a dark spell, but before he could cast it, Luan lunged forward, pressing a joy buzzer against his arm. A loud BZZT crackled in the air as magical sparks jumped across his body.

"GAH!" Korde recoiled, his entire body jolting from the unexpected shock. He stumbled, barely able to keep his balance, as Luan capitalized on his dazed state.

She pulled out a trick cane, flicked it open, and—POOF!—a burst of confetti exploded in Korde's face, momentarily blinding him. "Man, you are a tough crowd!" Luan quipped.

Korde swung wildly in her direction, his patience evaporating. His magic lashed out, but Luan ducked, flipped, and sidestepped every attack with a jester's grace. His spells barely grazed her as she danced out of reach, laughing all the while.

The final straw came when she pulled out an oversized boxing glove on a spring and let it fly straight into his jaw.

THWACK!

Korde's head snapped back. He stood there, fists shaking, cream and confetti covering his once-imposing figure. He was done.

With a furious snarl, he spat, "This isn't over!" before vanishing into a swirling portal of dark mist, his retreat a mix of rage and humiliation.

The backyard fell silent.

Luan, catching her breath, watched the spot where Korde had disappeared, her victorious grin fading. The fight was over. But at what cost?

She spun around, her heart clenching at the sight of Lincoln still lying peacefully on the grass, completely motionless. The earlier rush of adrenaline drained from her body, replaced by cold fear.

She dropped to her knees beside him. "Lincoln…?" Her voice cracked. She shook his shoulder lightly, but he remained still, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. He looked so peaceful… too peaceful.

Tears welled up in her eyes. This was supposed to be their special day—just a simple, fun moment between siblings. But Korde had twisted it into something awful.

A quiet sob escaped her lips as she clutched his hand. "I'm so sorry, Linc…" she whispered. "I never wanted this to happen. I just… I just wanted us to have fun."

A single tear slipped down her cheek, falling onto Lincoln's chest. She watched it absorb into his shirt, then let out a shaky laugh as she took in his sleeping face. Even now, he looked adorable, like he didn't have a care in the world.

She leaned forward and pressed a sorrowful kiss to his forehead. "I love you, baby bro."

A soft glow pulsed where her lips touched his skin.

Luan gasped as Lincoln suddenly stirred. His fingers twitched, his eyelids fluttered, and then—

"Mmm…" Lincoln groaned before slowly opening his eyes. "Luan…?"

Luan's breath hitched. "Lincoln?!"

His drowsy expression turned into one of surprise as he was suddenly tackled into a tight, crushing hug. "You're awake! Oh my gosh, you're really awake!"

Lincoln blinked, still groggy, but smiled at her warmth. "Uh… yeah? What happened?"

Luan pulled back just enough to look at him, a mix of relief and lingering worry on her face. "Korde happened. He pulled a sneaky one on us and used my prank to knock you out."

Lincoln frowned. "That guy really doesn't know when to quit, huh?"

"Nope," Luan huffed before smirking. "But I guess he found me so annoying that he just decided to leave."

Lincoln chuckled, shaking his head. "Luan, that's why you're the best comedian in Royal Woods."

She beamed at him, the sadness in her chest finally melting away. "Aw, Linc, you're just saying that 'cause I saved your butt."

"Well… yeah," he admitted with a grin. "But also 'cause it's true."

Luan giggled, wiping away the last of her tears. "Well, I guess if I'm that good, I better keep my supply stocked." She glanced over at the mess of empty tins and cream splatters on the grass. "Looks like I ran out of pies, though."

Lincoln followed her gaze and smirked. "That's probably the first time I've ever seen you run out of pies."

Luan gasped dramatically. "I know! It's a tragedy! A comedian without pies is like a clown without a horn!" She tapped her chin in thought before brightening. "Wanna help me make some more?"

Lincoln stretched his arms and stood up. "Sure, I would love to baking pies with you."

Luan playfully nudged him with her elbow. "It is a safer activity… unless you count food fights."

Lincoln chuckled. "I'll take my chances."

With that, the two siblings made their way back toward the house, side by side, the earlier tension finally easing into something warm and familiar.

Meanwhile, deep in Korde's lair…

The dim glow of enchanted torches flickered against the cold stone walls. The air was thick with dark energy as Korde stood before a cracked mirror, meticulously wiping away the last traces of whipped cream from his long, flowing cloak.

His golden eyes burned with fury. Of all the Loud siblings he had faced, he had never expected her to be the one to humiliate him, At lest his battle with Luna was fair and square.

Luan Loud.

The very name made his jaw tighten. He had come seeking vengeance, to make Luan suffer… but instead, he had been reduced to a joke, slipping and flailing like a fool at the hands of a clown.

He clenched his fists, his magic crackling in response. "That insufferable clown…" he growled under his breath.

Korde turned sharply, his cloak billowing behind him. His power wasn't at its peak yet, but once he had fully recovered, he would break Luan Loud.

No… he would do worse.

A cruel smirk twisted his lips. "When the time comes, she won't be laughing. She'll be performing."

His voice dripped with malice as he chuckled darkly.

"When I'm done with breaking the loud sisters' spirit… Luan will be my personal jester and Luna will be my personal musician."

The shadows of his lair seemed to grow darker as his laughter echoed through the halls, promising a reckoning yet to come.