Marron tried to concentrate, but the monster was already halfway through the barrier.
It tore through the mage's shields like they were wet tissue paper.
She saw its claws gouging the earth as it charged. It was around ten feet tall with a twisted armored hide that shimmered black and rust red. Its eyes pulsed yellow like traffic lights, and it was running.
Completely targeting them.
Marron felt her body react before her mind could keep up. She shoved her prep station aside with a grunt—pots crashing, bowls shattering—just as the monster's roar rattled her chest like a gong.
Lucy squeaked and slammed herself into Marron's side, her slimy body forming a partial barrier. Mielle grabbed a hot wok and slammed it into the monster's flank with a clang! that should've been absurd.
But it got the thing's attention.
"You cooking or freezing?" Mielle yelled as she backflipped to dodge a massive claw. "Because if you're out of ideas, now's a real bad time to give up!"
"Cooking, chef!" Marron shouted back.
Her station was in ruins.
The ground was trembling.
The air smelled like adrenaline and blood.
But she still had a working skillet, a fire pit that hadn't gone out, and a crate of half-sorted ingredients that hadn't yet been pulverized.
It's enough.
+
"Balen!" she yelled. "You're fire-aligned, right?"
He didn't respond in words. He just threw a cluster of glowing spice orbs into the air, which exploded in bursts of paprika-red heat and set the monster's fur smoldering.
"Perfect," Marron muttered, and reached for the garlic.
The battlefield blurred around her. Defense units were reforming into squads. Mages shouted incantations. Healers dragged fallen adventurers behind the inner circle.
But in the middle of it all, Marron carved out her sacred space—a battered field table, one working pan, and a determination that refused to break.
She began with iron-starch dumplings: flour, bone broth, chopped bitterroot. Folded into fist-sized pouches and seared for a crisp, chewy finish.
High in defense. Meant to stick in your gut and keep you upright through hell.
While they steamed, she sliced open dried tigerfruit. They were sour-sharp, and would be perfect with honeyed carrots and fermented radish. She stir-fried it aggressively into a wok until the sugar caramelized.
To her, it smelled like triumph after a hard fight.
Ding!
[Emotion Detected: Resilience]
Infusion: Endurance +8% | Duration: 20 min
Mood Modifier: "Not Today"
She didn't even flinch this time.
"Lucy!" she barked. "Delivery!"
The slime zipped off—now faster, smoother—dragging trays of food behind her like a mobile medic. Adventurers didn't ask questions. They just reached for food like it was medicine, and maybe it was.
+
Mielle crouched beside the supply tent, shaping buns between her palms. Defensive meals. Marron caught the scent of seaweed and umberroot—ingredients that stabilized magical flow. She was anchoring the backline.
Balen darted like a wildfire—grabbing Marron's spice blends mid-motion and tossing them into his own heat bursts. He roared a laugh as his enchanted spear flared brighter. "Your chili oil hurts! I like it!"
Even Mokko had joined the fray now—somehow breaking the "no guardians" rule with terrifying grace. He stood guard at the edge of Marron's station, intercepting any creature that tried to breach their perimeter. And between each attack, he launched insulated satchels of food across the battlefield with pinpoint accuracy.
"Mokko, six o'clock!" Marron yelled.
He grunted in reply, swatted a smaller monster aside like a fly, and kicked a thermal pouch toward an exhausted tank.
+
In the middle of her third dish—a revitalizing citrus rice topped with bone marrow glaze—the system flared again.
[System Update: Combat-Adapted Recipe Tree Unlocked]
New Node: "Buff Chain Cooking"
You may now prepare synergistic dish sets that boost each other's effects. Chain up to 3 buffs per target with proper timing and ingredients.
Sample Chain:
→ Starter: Garlic-Tigerfruit Stir-Fry (Stamina Boost)
→ Main: Iron-Starch Dumplings (Defense Boost)
→ Dessert: Citrus Rice Glaze (Healing Over Time)
New Passive: Field Instincts Lv. 1
When under pressure, recipe memory becomes accessible mid-cooking. Ingredients will suggest optimal combinations.
→ Warning: This passive evolves with stress.
Her brain lit up. That was why she kept reaching for the right things. The system had started integrating directly with her instinct.
You trust food. It trusts you back.
+
Across the battlefield, someone screamed in agony—a mage collapsed, their veins turning black with venom.
"Lucy!" Marron pointed.
The slime didn't hesitate. She flung herself across the mud, landed on the mage's chest, and glowed brighter than ever.
The poison evaporated in seconds.
Marron stared. That wasn't just cleansing.
That was healing.
The system pinged again:
[Lucy Skill Rank Up: Soothing Coating → Soothing Surge]
Slime can now deliver direct healing pulses on contact. Charge increases with proximity to Marron's cooking aura.
"She's a combat medic now," Marron whispered. "My slime is a combat medic."
+
They were gaining ground. The monster from earlier had been taken down—Balen's enchanted oil and Mokko's brute force finally overwhelming it. But Marron had little time to celebrate. She was rotating ingredients, setting up meal kits, coordinating deliveries, when something clicked.
The monsters weren't hitting adventuring parties evenly.
They weren't going for the mages or the tanks.
They were targeting the chefs.
One had gone for her. Another had flanked a tent where Mielle had been prepping. Balen had intercepted a third that had nearly crushed a young prep cook delivering nutrient bars.
They're not random. They're coordinated.
The food was working—too well.
Someone, something, had realized that if you took out the support… the whole field would fall apart.
[System Alert: Tactical Priority Detected]
Enemy forces are identifying you as a high-value target.
Protective measures advised.
Marron looked up from her cookpot and locked eyes with Sage across the battlefield.
He knew.
And he was already moving.
+
As she ladled another batch of healing broth, Marron's hands began to shake—not from fear, but from something deeper. The emotional resonance of every dish she'd made was still thrumming through her, a symphony of feelings that refused to fade: resilience, determination, hope, fury, protection.
Too many emotions. Too much power flowing through her at once.
The system flickered a warning at the edge of her vision:
[Caution: Emotional Cascade Building]
[Current Stress: 82%]
[Recommend: Controlled Breathing Protocol]
But there was no time for breathing protocols. Another wave of injured adventurers was stumbling toward her station, and Lucy was already racing to help the most critical cases.
Control it. Just like always. One dish at a time.
The trembling in her hands stilled, but the power kept building like pressure in a kettle.
+
A ripple passed through the treeline—not the crude crashing of the earlier monsters, but something deliberate. Calculated. The shadows moved wrong, bending in ways that suggested intelligence rather than instinct. Whatever was coming had been watching the entire battle. Learning their patterns. Studying their weaknesses.
Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Marron's aura flared as her heart pounded, the cascade warning pulsing brighter in her peripheral vision.
She wasn't just a chef anymore.
She was a threat.
And someone was trying to remove her from the game.