Alex set to work. With practiced precision, his knife slid through the thick hide of the fallen monsters. The blade moved cleanly, parting skin and sinew, separating what was useful from what was waste.
Not every part could be eaten, and not every monster was worth the trouble. But the right cuts—trimmed properly, prepared correctly—were another story.
Monster meat, dense with nutrients and saturated with mana, was a resource coveted across the world. In the hands of skilled chefs, it became more than food; it was medicine, training fuel, even luxury. For knights and martial artists, it was a treasure.
Alex was no chef, but with the system's help he moved like one. His hands worked with an efficiency that belied his lack of real-world experience. Each clean slice, each neatly portioned slab of meat stacked beside him, carried a quiet confidence.
Above him, Aurora drifted lazily, watching as though she had all the time in the world. After a while, she tilted her head, a sly smile curving her lips.
"You're putting a lot of effort into this. Is it really just dinner for you two, or are you trying to impress her?"
Alex didn't look up. "Sherry? No. Like I said, she reminds me of my little sister. That's why I look out for her." His knife slid down, separating another strip of hide.
Aurora's eyes softened at that, though the playful smile remained. She twirled in the air, skirts rippling like mist. "Mhm. Maybe that's how you see it… but for her, I'm not so sure."
Alex finally paused, setting aside a cut of meat to give her a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Aurora leaned in closer, hands clasped behind her back, expression half-knowing, half-playful. She had little experience with such matters herself, but her long years lent perspective.
"Even I can tell—your acceptance of helping her, the way you treat her like she matters—it isn't small. To someone like Sherry, who's never had a friend before? That leaves a mark. A big one."
Alex's frown deepened slightly, but his hands resumed their steady work. "You're reading too much into it."
"Am I?" Aurora's smile turned teasing. "Maybe. Or maybe I just want to see how this little story of yours unfolds."
For a moment she was quiet, simply watching him. Then her tone shifted, more serious. "By the way… are you really sure about going into that ruin with her?"
"Yeah," Alex said without hesitation. "I already decided."
Aurora floated lower, her voice gentler now. "You understand what that means, right? Secret realms have unstable time flow. You might not care, but if your master knew…" She let the thought trail off with a sigh.
Alex's knife stilled for a beat, and he almost smiled at the image. "If months—no, even weeks—passed outside while I was in there, I wouldn't be surprised if she forced her way in herself."
Aurora chuckled, the tension easing. "Exactly." Then, unwilling to linger in the heavy air, she smirked again. "Still, I'll be watching. Could be entertaining."
Her laughter was light, almost musical. Alex just sighed, muttering, "You really enjoy messing with me, don't you?"
Aurora didn't answer. She floated back, chin resting in her palms, eyes glinting with quiet amusement—as though savoring a future Alex himself hadn't noticed yet.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
Elsewhere, at the now-razed Orc village, another group of students arrived. The stench of blood still clung to the night air, thick and acrid, carried on the faint breeze. Orc corpses—warriors and even towering generals—lay strewn across the ground, their black-green blood soaking deep into the soil. The fires that once burned in their crude huts had long since died, leaving only a heavy, suffocating silence.
The six students froze at the edge of the carnage, eyes wide.
"...What happened here?" one whispered.
At their head stood Gareth Kain, a third-year Knight-class student—a swordsman known for sheer strength. Though not a mage, his mastery of the blade let him overwhelm even mages—a rarity that made his name.
Behind him, the team's scout glanced down at the small enchanted disc in his palm. The faint arrow hovering above it pointed directly to the village. His jaw tightened. "Before we entered the labyrinth, I sensed a monster nest here. This was supposed to be our chance." He exhaled sharply, pocketing the disc. "But now… it's gone."
A broad-shouldered teammate snorted, resting a hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. "Not our fault the labyrinth was this massive. Took forever just to clear it."
"Hmph. And without it, we wouldn't even be in second place right now." their female teammate shot back, brushing her hair back with a sharp flick. "Don't forget that."
Their voices echoed uneasily in the ruins, but Gareth remained silent. He crouched by one of the fallen orcs, his hand brushing the dried blood. His eyes were steady, thoughtful.
"Their mana cores are gone." the quieter teammate observed, kneeling beside him. "Judging from the blood, this happened only a few hours ago."
Gareth traced the edge of a wound with his fingers. "Clean cut. Poisoned weapon—instant kill, or close to it. Others burned, blasted apart."
The group exchanged tense glances.
"There are also traces of magic attacks on some of the others." the second continued. "Whoever did this… used both a weapon and magic."
"This doesn't make sense," one muttered. "To wipe out this many Orc Warriors—plus Orc Generals—you'd need at least a B-rank adventurer team."
"And if it was adventurers," another countered, "where's the camp? The tracks? There's nothing."
Finally, one of them frowned, voice low. "If it wasn't adventurers… could it have been another student team?"
Instinctively, all eyes turned to their leader. Gareth rose slowly, scanning the battlefield once more. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze was sharp, intent.
"Whom so ever it was, I could say it was mostly was done by a single person," he said at last, voice low, "and whoever it was… isn't ordinary."
The silence that followed was heavy. For their own team—currently ranked second in the Wilderness Training—to feel unsettled by the sight said enough.
Gareth's gaze lingered on the carnage. "If it was any third-year or even a second-year from the academy, I'd know about them." His eyes narrowed. "And the few who could do this—it doesn't fit their style."
He let the thought hang before murmuring, almost to himself, "I want to know who did this."
Uneasy glances flickered between his teammates. If Gareth was interested, it meant one thing: whoever had razed this village was someone worth paying very close attention to.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
Sherry stepped out of the shower, towel draped around her shoulders, still rubbing at her damp hair—then froze.
The air was heavy with rich, mouthwatering aromas.
She blinked at the table. What had once been bare wood was now a banquet. Steam curled up in soft ribbons from polished plates: sausage rolls packed with spiced meat, glossy ribs and crisp belly from Berserker Boars, tender breast fillets and chili-slick wings of the Skyripper Vulture, and, at the center, a simmering pot of Stonehide Grizzly paw soup whose broth smelled deep and earthy. Even their bland ration packs had been coaxed into something remarkable—seared steak cuts, a creamy risotto, and, at the far end, a neat row of chocolate mousse parfaits dusted with shavings.
Her stomach growled loudly, betraying her. Heat crept up her cheeks—embarrassing, but the hunger was undeniable.
"Welcome, ma'am." Alex said with mock gravity, giving a waiter's bow. He even pulled out her chair. "Tonight's special menu features monster delicacies with a survival twist. Please, have a seat."
The corner of Sherry's lips tugged upward despite herself. She set the towel aside and sat down, his playful act easing her heart more than any reassurance could have.
Aurora drifted lazily above the spread, her translucent form hovering over the steaming ribs. She leaned in close, inhaling even though she couldn't, then pulled back with a face of dramatic suffering.
"You know," she said, folding her arms, "this is cruel. I can smell it, I can see it—but I can't eat it."
Alex smirked as he ladled soup into Sherry's bowl. "You're a spirit—how would you even eat?"
Aurora pouted. "Then lend me your body. Just for a while." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Let me taste, too. Watching you two feast while I hover like some hungry ghost is unbearable."
Alex nearly dropped the spoon, pausing mid-air with broth threatening to spill. Only Alex had heard her; to Sherry, he'd just flinched mid-ladle, which was funny enough.
She let out a small, unguarded laugh.
And in that moment, Alex knew his plan had worked. For tonight, at least, she wasn't lost in worry over her missing parents.