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As night descended over the ruins, Vastarael and Narisva set up camp under the shadow of the final mural.
The cracked stone and faded colors depicted a haunting image: two beings stepping into a swirling portal, their backs turned to Erna, who remained behind, her form radiating sorrow and loneliness. The sight left an unsettling silence between the two as they unpacked their supplies. Vastarael stole a glance at the mural, feeling an odd pang of guilt, as if Erna's painted sadness was directed at them.
"Well," Vastarael muttered, shaking the mood from his mind, "if we're stuck here tonight, we might as well eat like kings."
"Kings?" Narisva raised an eyebrow, already chewing on a dried ration from her bag. "If you're planning to serve me one of those awful preserved meat slabs, I'm going to throw it at your head."
"Oh, ye of little faith. Watch and learn, Starisnova. Tonight, you'll be eating something that'll make you forget all about those sad excuses for food."
He pulled out his cooking supplies with dramatic flair, laying them on the remnants of what might have once been a ceremonial altar. Narisva looked on skeptically as he retrieved perfectly cut steaks from his inventory, along with a surprising collection of herbs and spices. Then, to her complete astonishment, he produced rice. Actual rice.
"Is that… rice?" Narisva blinked, leaning forward. "Where in the frozen hells of Spheraphase did you get that? Rice is, like, a luxury for the divine. Heck, not even Dynasties can access rice that easily. You do realize that, right?"
"Let's just say I've got connections," Vastarael replied with a cryptic grin, refusing to elaborate further.
Truth be told, he'd been saving the rice for a special occasion, but after the insanity of the day, he figured they deserved something extraordinary. He was the only one who experienced the vision and it took seconds for Narisva who said he blacked out for about ten seconds.
He carefully seasoned the steaks, letting the spices soak into the meat as the fire crackled beneath his makeshift sapphire grill. The aroma began wafting through the air, drawing Narisva's attention despite herself. Her arms were crossed and her cocky expression was back but she was leaning closer, her nose twitching slightly at the scent.
"Okay," she admitted grudgingly, "it smells good. But don't let it go to your head. I've had better."
Vastarael didn't reply, too focused on his craft. He cooked the rice to perfection, each grain fluffy and separate, before turning his attention to the curry stew.
Using a mix of herbs and spices he rarely touched, he crafted a deep, savory broth, rich with flavor and just the right amount of heat. He added vegetables and a touch of spices from his supplies, ensuring the stew would be as nutritious as it was delicious.
By the time he plated the thick, aromatic curry poured over a bed of pristine rice, served with a perfectly seared steak on the side, Narisva was visibly struggling to maintain her usual indifferent attitude.
"Well?" Vastarael asked with a British accent that somehow got to him after listening to Greshina's voice, handing her a plate with an exaggerated flourish. "Your Royal Celestial Highness, care to grace me with your undoubtedly harsh critique?"
She took the plate hesitantly, her eyes scanning the food as if looking for a reason to dismiss it. But the moment she took the first bite, her expression changed. Her cocky demeanor faltered, replaced by wide-eyed surprise.
"This…" she began, her voice uncharacteristically soft before she caught herself. Clearing her throat, she forced her usual smirk back onto her face. "This is… passable."
"Passable?" Vastarael laughed, already digging into his own plate. "You're practically inhaling it. Just admit it, Starisnova. I'm a cooking genius."
"Don't push it," she shot back, though the fact that she was already halfway through her plate undermined her words. After a moment, she finally sighed, giving him a reluctant nod.
"Okay, fine. It's good. Really good. Better than I expected from you, anyway."
Vastarael grinned, leaning back against a broken pillar as he savored his meal.
"I amaze even myself sometimes," he said, mostly to himself. "Didn't know I had it in me."
They ate in companionable silence for a while, the tension of the day easing as the warmth of the food and the fire surrounded them. The mural loomed in the background, but for now, it was just a part of the scenery, its somber presence overshadowed by the simple comfort of a good meal.
But then Narisva broke the silence with a question that caught Vastarael completely off guard.
"So uh... what are you going to do once you get out of the Epoch Cycle? After we've defeated the Frozen God and all that?"
Vastarael froze mid-bite, the question hanging in the air. Of all the things she could've asked, he hadn't expected this from her. He put his plate down, staring into the fire as he mulled over his answer.
"I... don't know," he admitted finally, his voice quieter than usual. "I mean, the Frozen God isn't exactly the kind of opponent you think about after. It's more of a 'just survive and figure it out later' kind of deal."
"That's not what I asked. I'm not talking about the fight. I'm talking about after. You've got all this talk about fighting for your future, so what does that future look like to you?"
He frowned, her words striking a chord he hadn't expected. What did his future look like? He thought of his future self, with his wives, his dynasty, his daughters and his freedom. It all sounded incredible but... it was so far removed from where he was now that it felt more like a dream than a goal.
"I guess… I just want to get to a point where I don't have to fight anymore. Where I can actually live, you know? Maybe that means having a family, maybe it means ruling a dynasty, I don't know. But whatever it is, I want it to be worth all of this. The pain, the struggle, the suffering... I want it to mean something. And that future is worth fighting for."
"That's… surprisingly deep for you, Vastarael."
"Don't get used to it. But hey, if future me can make it, so can I. Just gotta survive long enough to get there."
She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You're an idiot, you know that?"
"Yeah, but I'm an idiot with great cooking skills," he shot back, earning a small laugh from her.
For a moment, the two of them sat there, the fire crackling between them, the weight of the day lifting just slightly. The mural watched silently as if bearing witness to their fleeting moment of peace.
"Can I tell you a story, Vastarael? Consider it a campfire tale. It's about a little girl who wanted to rule the world."