Chef eyed Tetsu’s hand with suspicion. He didn’t need a reply, as Tetsu’s nervous laugh said it all. “Bert,” Chef introduced himself and with a firm grip, almost crushed Tetsu’s hand.

“Firm handshake,” Tetsu chuckled. “Still, you’re... AHHhh...” He winced as Bert tightened his grip. “A level two chef shouldn’t have such strength,” he exclaimed.

“Well, I never claimed to use knives to carve the beast,” Bert’s toothy smile pushed his thick beard aside, revealing a mouth hidden beneath the hair. For a moment, Tetsu wondered if Bert manipulated his beard to speak.

“Is that why you offered me yours?” Tetsu mused, examining the small artifact in Bert’s hand.

The dagger resembled a kitchen blade, featuring a ten-centimeter curved edge with a shimmering wave pattern separating it from the hilt. The triangular grip of the knife was designed for puncturing bones and showcasing the chef’s skill with a deft flip. At a single glance, Tetsu felt a laceration splitting his vision in two. With this formidable blade, he could dispatch the entire group of elites; there was no doubt in his mind.

Bert noticed the gleam in Tetsu’s eyes and offered the knife, despite the leader’s warnings about being cautious with the youngster. He trusted his gut, which had guided him this far, and he couldn’t bear to send a kid—level four or not—into this chaotic world without a weapon.

“No,” Tetsu firmly refused.

“Good kid. Remember, this is a present, so I want it back—wait, what? No? Why not?” Bert blurted out in surprise.

“Because I don’t like killing,” Tetsu frowned at Bert as if it were common knowledge.

“How did you level up, then?”

“Oh, that!” Tetsu scratched his head, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Lapse of judgment. Before you misjudge me... it, she, or he, were bad creatures, and I warned them not to cross my path—I think.”

“Not that, you brat. We all know about the stupendous fight.”

“Stories travel fast, huh!”

Bert clutched Tetsu with both hands, pulling him closer. “Are you telling me you killed a beast? No, an intellectual beast without weapons?”

“Yes?”

“Think harder, brat.” Bert shook Tetsu like a milkshake, hoping to jog his memory.

“Brat... Bert!” Tetsu chuckled.

Bert let go of Tetsu, concerned that he might have broken him.

“Relax,” Tetsu patted Bert’s chest, attempting to help him control his erratic breathing. “I’m sure I borrowed their weapons to finish the job,” Tetsu consoled Bert, though his own memory seemed hazy and unfamiliar.

The statement only worsened Bert’s state as he heaved and gawked at Tetsu in disbelief. Bert was all too familiar with how rumors spread; he had been a target of gossip his entire life. For as long as he could remember, his family had pushed him toward rugby and scorned his dreams of becoming a chef.

In their current predicament, everyone embellished the stranger’s story before spreading it around, adding more spice to the tale. Bert, separating the meat from the spices, considered Tetsu a fortunate kid who had found a good dungeon to train in. This was how all their elites reached level three and became adept at scouring the woods filled with delectable meat.

Their acolyte had her own methods, but Bert trusted people more than skills, and his gut leaned in favor of Tetsu until the skinny brat spun a story scarier than any rumor in the base.

“I don’t kill in the sense that I hate the aspect. Before you ask, that doesn’t apply to those who try to kill me. If I have no way to run, then I kill and run,” Tetsu smiled, as the statement made perfect sense to him, leading him to believe he must have also cleared up Bert’s doubts.

Bert hyperventilated until he lapsed into unconsciousness. Only the fourth bucket of water, the last remaining from Tetsu’s bath, possessed the potency to awaken him from his deep slumber. “You’re a monster,” were his first words upon regaining consciousness.

“Thanks...?”

“My gut told me something was weird with you.”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

“You gotta trust your companion,” Tetsu patted Bert’s belly.

“Wait! How will you get back food if you won’t hunt?”

“I never saw them eat, so borrowing from others’ hunts? Don’t worry; I’ve been doing this all along. I promise to return with a week’s worth of rations,” Tetsu assured and slipped away into the crowd before revealing too much.

Tetsu wished to pay for the food with money, but currency had yet to be invented. In a way, he was content it wasn’t, so he compensated the chef—Bert—with information, which he deemed more valuable than gold.

Bert was too stunned to reply, and before he recovered, another rumor reached him, claiming the newcomer had defeated all the elites before joining the force and could become their new leader.

“Does the brat even know how many mouths we have to feed?” Bert stopped counting after the refugees exceeded three hundred, and he still grimaced, serving the same watery soup for the umpteenth time today. However, he knew that with rescues increasing every day, they would soon come to appreciate this soup.

“Haha! One week,” Bert chuckles.

“What’s happening in one week?” Xania inquires.

“A feast,” Bert retorts.

A little girl, frowning at her soup, looks up in disbelief. “Really?” She cheers and yells the news to everybody.

“How?” Xania glances from her soup to Bert in astonishment.

“No!” Bert dashes behind the girl, hurling a frying pan, hoping to silence her and diffuse the situation. But it’s too late, and a heavy burden settles on Tetsu’s shoulders.

“What’s with your face, cadet?” A trainer yells at Tetsu.

“Don’t know. Something feels heavy,” Tetsu replies, rotating his shoulder in an attempt to throw off the imaginary weight.

“That was a rhetorical question, brat,” the trainer snaps, lifting his huge hammer to smash Tetsu into paste.

The other trainees scurry away, yet Tetsu stands in place, engrossed in strange movements, hoping the sudden weight would fall off his shoulders.

“Say your last prayers, cadet,” the trainer warns, swinging the hammer down.

“Huh-huh!” Tetsu realizes and slides his pants off. The trainer bites his tongue and slips, narrowly missing Tetsu. “Nah! That isn’t it,” Tetsu mutters, pulling his pants back up.

“Hey buddy,” Bomic waves.

“Yo!”

“What are you doing here?” Bomic asks, gazing at the new cadets training grounds.

“This is your base, shouldn’t you know that?” Tetsu questions.

“Sir,” a much older man salutes Bomic. “He is new, so we are assessing his potential before assigning a grade and designation.” He finishes with another salute.

“Why is the older dude calling you sir?” Tetsu nudges Bomic.

“Because I am of a higher rank.” Bomic’s chest inflates with pride. “Elite amongst the elite, I might add.”

“So if I beat all of you up, do I get to be your leader?” Tetsu wonders aloud.

The other trainers draw their weapons, while their base leader in the back changes his mind and turns away.

“Leader, you are going the wrong way,” his attendant urges him to return. “You said you would give your soldiers some pointers.”

“Shh...!” Leader shushes her before dragging her away.

“How—”

Bomic halted the guard. “In our first encounter, he stabbed me, disarmed Alcer and Carl, kept them in a stalemate, and dodged Neo’s arrow.”

“That’s impossible—” The elderly man was cut off by Tetsu this time.

“Hey!” Tetsu locked Bomic in a chokehold. “Not a good story for raising goodwill,” Tetsu mumbled with a forced smile.

“Vertue Di sort,” Bomic activated a skill, causing Tetsu to loosen his grip. Seizing the opportunity, Bomic returned the chokehold. “Told ya! We ain’t weak, and you just challenged all of us for the leader role. How is—”

Tetsu rolled forward, grabbed Bomic by the ankle, and stood up straight with Bomic dangling at his side. The trainers were too stunned to move, while the other cadets exchanged bewildered looks.

“Isn’t the first round a battle royal to join the elites?” a cadet asked, receiving affirmative nods. “Isn’t that cheating, then?”

“You mean him,” a girl corrected him.

“No! I mean that,” the cadet gawked at Tetsu.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Carl intervened. “He’s with us,” he assured the guard.

“Hey boss,” Bomic chuckled, waving at Carl. It seemed, that being upside down didn’t affect him that much.

“Put him down,” Carl said, holding his head, hoping to ward off the headache before it escalated.

Tetsu released his hold on Bomic, who landed on his hands and flipped upright with practiced ease. Finding Tetsu in a casual demeanor, one hand in his pocket and eyes scanning the surroundings, Bomic asked, “Were you holding me up with just one hand?”

“Let’s go,” Carl urged them to follow.

“You don’t weigh much,” Tetsu shrugged and followed Carl.

“Thanks... I guess?”

“What are you doing down there, sir?” The guard looked at the trainer still lying on the floor.

“Cadets used to be scared of me. What happened to life?” the trainer wept.

“Magic, sir?”

“Why isn’t anyone coming to help me up?”

———<>|*|<>———

“What’s with the death stare?” Bomic stepped behind Carl.

“You stole my training montage,” Tetsu snorted.

“What!” Both Carl and Bomic gaped.

“Never mind,” Tetsu headed toward the forest.

“Wait! We are waiting for the team to get here,” Carl reminded Tetsu.

“Which way are you guys heading?”

Carl pointed in the direction where Tetsu planned on entering, but Tetsu flipped and headed in the opposite direction. “I promised the chef... Bert, a week’s worth of food. Happy hunting,” Tetsu waved them goodbye without looking back.

“Can I join?” Bomic yelled.

“Sure. My top priority is me, though.”

Bomic’s smile faded as he limped back. Carl hugged him tight and signaled an archer to follow Tetsu.

“Mine,” Neo placed a mark on Tetsu. “Lead me to your group,” he said, pulling out his bow and blending into the shadows of the trees.

“Can’t believe I lost a training montage and an academy plot,” Tetsu frowned. “Fuck you, Bomic. This is all your fault.”

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