“Wars,” Dick said as he gazed out at the battlefield. Hundreds lay trampled, others clutched their stomachs moaning from the pain. “Wars never changes.”

The casualties had been few, at first. Just a few men and women trampled by others when they couldn’t bear to wait in line a moment longer, or the rare mugging and execution after a customer had picked up their order. The townsfolk were ordinarily a peaceful bunch, but once they smelled burger, all bets were off.

Dick had rarely ever seen such feral beasts. The only other time that came close was when he visited a kindergarten once. The mutated mini humans swarmed their fellow classmates, each out for blood. The mere thought of those tiny sociopaths running around sent shivers up Dick’s spine.

“So, uh, you gonna do something about this line?” Greg said. Indeed, the line was the very cause of the villagers’ viciousness. Once word got around about the new superfood, the entire town had devolved into chaos, with villagers stampeding one another for a chance at Dick’s burgers. Some even stabbed those who had picked up their order. It had become the law of the jungle, with Dick as king.

“One patty to rule them all,” Dick chanted. The [Boarse] meat sizzled, almost in begging to be cooked to perfection. “One bun to find them! One bun to bring them all, and the Sloppy Joe bind them!”

Dick flung the patty into the air, landing it on his newly crafted burger—the aptly named Double Dicker.

His eagerly awaiting customer picked up the burger, his mouth salivating. But before the man could take a bite, he was skewered from behind. The sword penetrated straight through his chest.

As the man fell to his knees, he looked Dick in the eye, and in an Adam Jensen voice, he said, “I never asked for this.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Then he died.

The man behind him picked up the burger, gloating. “What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is also mine!” he proclaimed.

But as he was about to bite into the burger, he too was stabbed from behind. As the man fell to his knees, he looked Dick in the eye, and said, “Trust no one. Not even yourself.”

Then he died.

The man behind him picked up the burger and smiled at Dick. “There can be only one.”

Dick nodded sagely. “Truer words have never been spoken.”

The man bit into his Double Dicker, and Dick could almost feel the pleasure on the man’s face. Ketchup and mustard burst out of his mouth, dribbling onto his shirt.

Dick nodded smugly. To eat a sloppy joe was to commit to red and yellow liquids smearing your shirt. There was simply no other way—to try and avoid it would be blasphemy to the god of Sloppy Joe’s.

Strangely enough, system messages popped up continuously as Dick cooked. Not only did he gain EXP for cooking, but every time anyone was killed while eating his burgers, the system counted it as his kill.

With the mountain of corpses in front of him, Dick was racking up EXP like nobody’s business, and that made him happy.

“So, you’re really not going to do anything about this?” Greg said.

There was only one thing Dick could possibly say to that. “My friend, number go up.”

“Aye, number go up,” Greg replied, nodding with the wisdom of his many years. “So, what next?”

Dick paused for a moment, his eyes a million miles away, deep in thought. “Chicken nuggets?”

“Dick, I hate to break it to you, but there are no chicken in this world.”

“Khaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!” Dick roared, falling to his knees and ripping his hair out.