You walk forward and grab the Emerald Crown from the stone table. "This is what happens when you steal," you snap. "You deserve bad luck." The gnomes shout in alarm. As you turn to leave, your grip slips. Time slows. The Emerald Crown strikes the stone floor—and shatters. Green light explodes outward, then vanishes completely. The chamber falls silent. The crystals dim. The gnomes stare in horror at the scattered fragments. Far above, across all of Iredale, luck collapses at once. Crops fail. Paths twist. Small misfortunes stack into larger ones. The land itself seems unsure how to move forward. The gnomes sink to their knees—not angry, just stunned. Your words echo back at you, heavier than before. You wanted justice. But without understanding, you brought ruin. The End.