What little we received needs cooking, and we leave the safe zone to do that. Some peace and quiet would do us good.
We go into a nearby patch of forest, busying ourselves with set-up to keep our minds off of things. Jessica has a big pot in her inventory that she pulls out, so I start digging a fire pit. Emily climbs a tree to be our lookout, and Jessica goes hunting for the monsters in the area with a few of her pets.
I have the pot ready and bubbling before long, and that random chunk of ice from Jessica comes in handy. It’s basically portable water that doesn’t need bottling, so I melt it down to make a stew. She brings back a couple of dead monsters, butchering them for meat and letting the pets eat the scraps.
“You can come down!” I call out to Emily. “The area’s clear!”
She hesitates, but eventually, she does it. Jessica sends her pets on patrols around us, and the two of them sit in front of the fire as I chop everything up.
“Are you sure this meat is edible?” I ask as I portion it into cubes.
Jessica shrugs. “They were edible animals before they mutated.”
“That doesn’t fill me with confidence, Jessica.”
“Cook a bit separately, then.”
That’s not a bad idea, so I do it. I cook a few strips over the open flames, and when they’re good to go, I take a bite and wait. I don’t get poisoned or anything, so we deem it safe enough.
Into the stew it goes, along with the potatoes and cabbages. The apples we eat as snacks while we wait.
Some other fighters come out as well, all for the same reason we did. Seeing us, the groups set up nearby for safety. It’s three at first, then five, then ten. We try to ignore them as we chat between ourselves, but people keep coming over.
We swap stories, tips, and information. One group asks if we have clean water to spare, which we don’t. A few thank me personally for killing the first wave boss, confirming my suspicions that it was indeed a mass update. Another group asks for water, but I turn them away as well. The next guys complain about the conditions in the safe zone, as if I could do anything about it.
“You’re the one who sent us here,” one of the men mumbles.
Yet another group asks for water, and it’s at this point I decide that enough is enough. I sit up and ask for everyone’s attention.
“Is anyone here an ice mage?”
A couple of guys raise their hands.
“Then use your skills to make some ice! You can melt that for water!”
They look at each other, and one of them shrugs. He casts a skill a little ways away from the impromptu campsite, a ball of electric blue energy that explodes into a mess of ice spikes. Everyone rushes off to collect some for melting.
Our own stew is done a few minutes later, so Jessica takes out bowls and a ladle.
“How come you have all this stuff on you?” I ask as I fill up her and Emily’s bowls.
“I just grabbed a bunch of camping supplies. Figured it might come in handy. You’re welcome, by the way.”
As we eat, we compare what each of us have in our inventories. What we prioritized says a lot about ourselves, in my opinion. I went for whatever could work as a weapon or distraction, focused entirely on the monsters. Jessica has a slew of items, anything from tents and sleeping bags to pet biscuits.
“I had some flashlights and batteries, too,” she says, “but I dropped them since none worked.”
Emily has her bow, arrows, and about ten tracksuits. Or just eight now, since she gave one to Jessica and traded another for my sake.
“Why so many clothes?” I ask, perplexed.
She, of course, doesn’t answer. I sigh.
We all eat one helping, then a second one as well. Jessica and I even go in for a third before she declares she’s full. I need a couple more bowls before I’m satisfied. Even so, we still have half a pot left.
As I contemplate how we might save it for later, a bunch of the non combatants appear out of nowhere. It’s mostly mothers with their kids, but there are some men and elderly among them as well. They followed us out here, I realize, tensing up at their approach.
Jessica jumps on the pot, burning her hands as she tries to take it off the flames.
“What are you doing?!” I whisper forcefully.
“I wanted to pull it into inventory,” Jessica says as she blows air on her hands. “They’re about to beg for food, just watch.”
They do, indeed, start begging for food. The mothers are at the forefront, but the others follow shortly behind them. I watch as, one by one, the fighters turn them down. A woman about Emily’s age approaches us, carrying a baby that can’t be more than a few months old. She looks tired, ragged, and dirty.
“Please,” she begs in a soft voice, her face red with embarrassment. “I know it’s a lot to ask right now, but I’m still breastfeeding. I’ll take anything you can spare.”
I look at my companions for anything, but they remain silent. From Emily it’s expected by now, but Jessica too? She just averts her eyes.
“Sit down,” I tell the woman. “Jessica, give her a bowl. We have more than enough left.”
I can tell that she doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t have to. She just has to do it.
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Seeing as we’re the only ones who don’t turn them away, the people quickly gather around us. We don’t have nearly enough for everyone, so I go around to the other groups of fighters to beg on their behalf.
No one wants to share. They’re a little more open with me since I’m one of them, but that doesn’t mean I get anything for free.
“We all need food right now.”
“You probably noticed that we need calories to heal.”
“We’re saving it for later, who knows when we’ll get another meal.”
On and on, the excuses keep pouring out of them. I’m…I don’t know, disappointed? Disheartened? Bottom line is that I expected more from us.
I find our own pot empty when I return a few minutes later, and the realization washes over everyone. They’ll go hungry. I could just let it go. Call it a cruel twist of fate and move on. God knows we fighters have enough on our plates as is. But my heart won’t let me do that.
“Jack? What are you doing?” Jessica asks as I clap my hands over my head.
“Everyone! May I have your attention for a bit?” I yell. “Gather around, come on! Get closer! I don’t want to shout all of this!”
They do so, albeit reluctantly. I know why, they expect some sappy speech about humanity and sharing and all that. Good thing, then, that that’s not what I have in mind.
“No one needs to go hungry! We can do something about that, but everyone has to chip in and do some work!”
The non combatants all perk up. Some of the fighters groan, the looks in their eyes screaming we have enough work as is. I ignore the sharp glares and continue explaining the plan.
It’s simple, so much so that I’m surprised no one else has done it already. Just start a communal potluck. We’d need more than one, given our numbers, but that’s nitpicking.
“The fighters can go kill some monsters for meat. We’ve already tried, and some of them are edible. Everyone else, pitch in whatever supplies you got from the supermarket.”
Even though they already ate, most of the fighters are down for it. The non combatants also jump on the chance, seeing how limited their options are. And since I started it, I’m left to coordinate the efforts.
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It all goes surprisingly well, even if it takes me a bit of time to put the plan together and delegate jobs. I split the fighters into two main groups, one to go out hunting for monsters and the other to offer protection around the camp. The non combatants are tasked with other work. Dig the fire pits, gather wood, skin and butcher what the hunters bring back.
Lots of people have vegetables on them since that’s all they got from the supermarket. Potatoes, carrots, onions, bell peppers, the selection is quite varied. Most of what could be eaten raw has already been consumed, but we have enough left over for our needs.
Some of the women and elders, who can’t do manual labor, get on that. They gather around to prep the ingredients, chatting animatedly between themselves. All of the differences brought on by the system, like classes, skills, and levels, are quickly forgotten. People remember that they’re people, and as they mix together, the tension vanishes.
The hunters return with the first round of kills, bringing back only animals that were edible before like I instructed them. It’s a bunch of animals like boars, deer, and squirrels, all mutated to enormous sizes.
“That looks like about enough,” one of them says as they line up the corpses for butchering.
I shake my head. “Bring some more. Let’s keep the ball rolling since we already started.”
They ask why, and I explain. We have a moment of peace right now, so we might as well make use of it. Whatever doesn’t get eaten can be stored in everyone’s inventory for later, when we might not have time to spare. Plus there are a bunch of hungry people in the safe zone, too. Why not feed them as well while we’re at it?
The hunters laugh and shake their heads, but it's lighthearted.
“Does anyone here have butchering experience?” I ask the crowd.
A few of the men, all hunters from before, raise their hands. I get them on the task of field dressing the kills. One of them comes up to me, fidgeting.
“What's up?”
“So…uhhh…I didn't pick my class yet, but I have this option that might be useful.”
We talk about it, and it's a novice class simply called Huntsman. The three starter skills are for tracking monsters, moving around unnoticed, and field dressing the kills. Hearing us chatting, a few others come up to report having similar recommendations.
I can't push them towards other choices, but novice classes seem like such a waste. So instead, I suggest that they look into adept classes with similar skills. After I explain the concept of class difficulty to the best of my understanding, they do so.
In the end, a handful of men all pick the same adept class. This one is called Hunter Gatherer, and even though the skills all have different names, it’s similar enough for our current needs. The only real difference is that the stealth skill is replaced with something that will let them spot edible plants more easily.
“How do we tell if the meat is edible?” One of them asks as he kneels next to a monster corpse.
It’s a boar, though about twice the usual size and with long tusks that make it look like a pygmy elephant. The hunters had quite a hard time dragging it here from where they killed it.
“We’ve been cooking strips of it for testing,” I say.
“That can’t be safe.”
“If anyone has better ideas, I’m all ears.”
We deliberate the problem, and someone comes forth with a possible solution. The man, also without a class, used to work as a professional chef a few years back before moving to Stelver. One of his class suggestions comes with a skill that would let him read and adjust the nutrient levels of various ingredients and dishes.
“It’s not exactly poison detection,” he says, “but it might work.”
“If you’re down for it, we could try.”
He nods and selects the class. Now, the only problem is to actually get them all the levels they need to unlock the skills. For that purpose, I team them up with the hunter groups.
“You guys soften some of the monsters for them and let them deal the finishing blow. Get them one or two levels each.”
They go off and return about half an hour later, with another round of monster corpses for processing. The butchers get to work, using both previous experience and system enhancements to expertly portion the carcasses into beautiful cuts of meat. Then our newly appointed head chef gets to work, assessing the cuts for safety.
Most of it gets the green light, so into the pots it goes. From here on out, it’s a waiting game. One of the elders busts out a classic guitar for tableside entertainment, and a few others pitch in for vocal support. It’s not half bad, and I find myself humming along.
I look around for my two companions as we start plating up. Jessica is caught up with the singers, and Emily is a little ways away, snoring under a tree with Luna curled around her. Only her head is visible under the mound of white fur.
I’m tempted to go sit with her, but I’d only wake her up. She needs her rest.
“Can I go get my family? There’s enough food here for everyone,” someone says, snapping my attention back to the eating crowd.
“Yeah, I have a few friends too.”
“We’d have to clear it with William first,” I say. “It’s his show.”
“I don’t think he’d mind,” someone says from behind me.
“Yeah, well, better safe than—”
The rest of the words don’t make it out. As I turn around to address the speaker directly, I find William there, along with a few of his men.
“You’re busted, champ,” he says with a smile. “Now, can they bring their families or not?”
“Yeah, fine,” I say, trying to mask a grin.
“Awesome,” William says. Then he goes to mingle with the crowd, yelling, “someone save me a plate, too! I haven’t eaten all day!”