The wind slapped her face the moment she stepped outside.
Smoke curled against the horizon in thin, dark ribbons. Bells were ringing from the east towers. And in the far distance—just past the treeline—flashes of unnatural color lit the sky: green streaks of venom magic, bursts of red flame, and the pulsing blue shimmer of deployed barrier wards.
Marron stood frozen at the guild gates, pulse thudding in her ears.
I'm not ready.
She had just passed her trial by the slimmest of margins. Her hands still smelled like fry oil and her sleeves were dusted with starch from the potatoes. And now she was supposed to—
Help win a war?
A sharp shout drew her eyes to the base of the hill. Balen was sprinting up the path, carrying two crates stacked taller than his own head. Behind him, Mielle dragged a trolley piled with cooking gear, pots clanging like battle drums as it rattled over the gravel.
"Out of the way!" Mielle yelled. "We've got a station to build and no bloody time!"
Balen flashed a grin at Marron as he passed, sweat beading on his forehead. "Glad you passed, Louvel. Guess we're coworkers now in the worst possible way—come on!"
The paralysis cracked.
Marron forced her feet to move and chased them down the slope. Grass slapped her shins. The air smelled of sweat, ozone, and something acrid—burnt monster hide and fear.
"What's happening?" she called as she caught up to Mielle.
"Adventurers are holding the first line about a mile out," Mielle snapped, yanking her trolley around a rock.
"But they've got minimal food buffs. Most of our field chefs are specialized—fire buffs, healing stews, stamina bread. We need someone who can cook everything."
Balen shot her a glance over his shoulder. "Which you apparently are. Hope you're ready for this."
+
The clearing they arrived in had clearly been used for this kind of emergency before. Stone firepits were dug into the ground in rings, each one marked with sigils for precise heat control.
Folding tables sat in stacks under oiled tarps, and several other chefs had already begun unpacking crates with practiced efficiency.
Sage was there too, sleeves rolled up and hair tied back with a rubber band. He tossed Marron a knife as she arrived—the blade caught the firelight like a small sun.
"You're on Station Three. You'll handle versatile dishes—energy, stamina, morale, healing if you can manage it."
"What about Mokko?" she asked, looking around for her guardian.
Sage shook his head. "You were instructed to come alone. We can't show favoritism during an active emergency. He'll join when the front line shifts closer."
Before she could argue, a familiar blob zipped out from under a prep table and bounced to her side.
"Lucy?" Marron blinked. "How did—?"
"Must've snuck in," Sage muttered, but his mouth twitched toward a smile. "Nobody stopped her. Slimes help clean dishes in kitchens. She figured it out."
Lucy burbled proudly and slapped a wet tendril against the side of a pot, leaving it spotless.
Marron laughed nervously.
+
The first batch of adventurers limped in ten minutes later.
One man had gashes along both arms, his leather armor hanging in strips.
A woman staggered forward with a broken staff clutched in one hand and blood matting her silver hair.
A third adventurer—barely more than a boy—sat heavily on a log and stared at nothing, his hands shaking.
All of them looked half-dead from exhaustion. None of them even asked what was cooking—they just collapsed beside the fire pits and waited.
And suddenly, Marron understood the real weight of her system's promise.
Cooking could save lives. Or let people die.
Her hands trembled as she reached for her ingredients.
+
Okay. Stamina broth should be a good one.
Marron grabbed some rich chicken stock and bitter greens, their earthy smell rising with the steam.
Her knife moved hesitantly at first, then faster as muscle memory took over. Diced onions fell into hot oil with a satisfying sizzle, their sharp scent cutting through the smoke-heavy air.
Focus. One meal at a time.
The heat from the firepit warmed her face. Oil popped and hissed. Around her, she could hear Balen shouting orders and the rhythmic thunk of Mielle's cleaver. The familiar sounds of a kitchen at work.
Her breathing steadied.
The system flickered to life in her peripheral vision.
[Emergency Field Conditions Detected]
[Battlefield Buff Cooking Mode Activated]
[Quick Prep Lv. 1 - Active]
[XP Available: 4,627]
→ Spend XP? Y/N
She hesitated, ladle suspended over the broth. She needed help, but spending XP felt like admitting she wasn't good enough on her own. What if she needed it later? What if—
"Lucy," she said softly, as the slime burbled beside a water basin. "Can you... show me the options?"
The slime wobbled, then with surprising focus, projected a small screen from her center—light-pink translucent text over a shimmering white glow.
[Available XP: 4,627]
Evolve Companion: Lucy for 2,000 XP
Skill Upgrade: Quick Prep Lv. 2 (40% faster) for 1,200 XP
Unlock: Basic Healing Recipes for 750 XP
Crafting Module: Portable Cooking Tools for 500 XP
Bonus: Midnight Snack (Auto-recovery trigger) for 300 XP
Lucy pulsed gently, her translucent form catching the firelight. She made a soft questioning sound and nudged Marron's hand.
"You want to help more, don't you?" Marron whispered.
The slime's entire body brightened in response.
Marron's chest tightened. Lucy had been with her from the beginning—her first real companion, her most loyal friend. If anyone deserved this chance...
She tapped the first option.
[Confirm Companion Evolution?]
Lucy will gain a specialization and new ability. Evolve now?
→ Confirm
The slime shimmered like a star about to go nova.
Light rippled across her translucent form in waves. Her blue coloring deepened into opalescent lavender shot through with silver threads. A pair of soft antennae bloomed like curled fern fronds atop her head. When the glow faded, Lucy looked... clearer. More present. Her edges were defined but somehow softer.
She let out a melodic trill—not the simple burble from before, but something almost like speech.
[Lucy has evolved into: Culinary Familiar - Grade I]
New Skill: Soothing Coating – Nearby allies regenerate health over time
Passive Bonus: Meal Cleanse – Purges minor poisons and debuffs
"You're incredible," Marron breathed.
Lucy twirled like she'd been waiting her whole life to be told that, then immediately rolled toward the injured adventurers with new purpose.
The next round of adventurers didn't collapse. They screamed.
+
A party burst into the clearing—two members dragging a third who was coughing blood, his chainmail slashed nearly in half. The metallic scent of blood cut through the cooking smells. Behind them, a monstrous screech echoed through the trees, close enough to make the pots rattle.
"Station Three!" Sage barked. "Fresh emergency! You're on triage!"
"I—I'm not a healer!" Marron shouted, but her hands were already moving. She ladled hot broth into a bowl, her movements sharp and decisive now. Healing herbs went on top—not because she'd studied medicine, but because her instincts screamed that this would help him.
"Lucy!"
The evolved slime rolled onto the adventurer's chest without hesitation, her lavender form pulsing with gentle light.
It worked.
The man's ragged breathing slowed. His eyes focused. The bleeding didn't stop—but it slowed to something manageable.
"How did you—?" one of his companions started.
"I don't know," Marron said honestly, already turning to help the next person.
But for the first time since she'd arrived, her hands weren't shaking.
+
Three hours in, something shifted.
Marron found herself moving between stations like she'd been doing this for years. Her knife flashed through vegetables with mechanical precision. Steam rose from a dozen pots she was managing simultaneously, each one timed to finish exactly when the next wave of adventurers would need them.
Balen caught her eye from his station and nodded with genuine respect. "You're a natural at this, Louvel."
Even Mielle paused her relentless kneading to glance over. "Not bad for a cart cook."
Marron looked around the clearing—at the adventurers sitting upright now instead of slumped in exhaustion, at the steady stream of reinforcements heading back to the front lines with her food warming their stomachs, at Lucy purring contentedly as she helped purge poison from a scout's system.
For just a moment, the fear lifted.
Maybe I really can do this. Maybe this is what I was meant for.
The thought should have been comforting.
Instead, something cold crawled up her spine. The system's warnings about emotional cascade flickered at the edge of her vision, and she remembered what the Head Council Member had said: Generalists always fall to ambition.
Was this how it started? This feeling of rightness, of power flowing through her hands like water?
She pushed the thought away and reached for more ingredients.
+
The ground trembled.
A crash echoed through the trees—not the sound of battle, but of something massive moving with deliberate purpose. Soldiers began shouting. Magical barriers flared to life in a protective perimeter around the clearing—but already something was smashing through them like they were made of glass.
Marron looked up from her cooking, ladle still in hand.
A horned shadow emerged from the brush, taller than the treeline. Steam rose from its nostrils. Scales caught the firelight like black mirrors. It paused at the edge of the clearing, yellow eyes scanning the cooking stations with unsettling intelligence.
Then those eyes locked on Marron.
The judges had been right about one thing.
The monsters weren't just attacking randomly.
They were coming for the chefs.