Jack stood there, clutching a bundle of bizarre ingredients, utterly clueless about what to do with them at first.
In the end, the most attention-grabbing idea he could think of was—
"Come take a look! Fresh ingredients straight from the Dungeon! Flavors you've never tasted before!"
That's right. Street vendor.
It was late at night, the exact time when adventurers were "getting off work." The ancient city above Sein Dungeon was bursting with life. Lanterns flickered on both sides of the cobblestone streets, casting golden halos on rain-darkened stones. The air was thick with the mingling scents of grilled meat, ale, and the metallic tang of weapons freshly repaired.
Noise roared from every corner. Merchants shouted themselves hoarse, hawking wares with booming voices far louder than Jack's. His cry was swallowed whole by the chaos.
"No good..." he muttered under his breath.
He dragged his strange-looking bundle through the crowd, bumping shoulders with armored adventurers and dodging the occasional drunk stumbling out of a tavern. After failing to claim any decent spot, he finally gave up and settled for a relatively quiet corner near a lamppost that flickered like it was about to die.
But shouting alone wasn't going to cut it. No matter how good your product is, if no one stops to look, it'll rot in your hands.
Then Jack's eyes gleamed with an idea.
Thunk, thunk, clatter—
Minutes later, a grill was propped up, flames licking at the iron grate as charcoal hissed and popped beneath it. Jack threw on a few pincer-fish, snakes-frog, and other ingredients, brushing them with oil and whatever spices he'd managed to grab from a nearby stall. Smoke curled upward, carrying a savory aroma that mingled with the nighttime air.
"Thank the gods I learned some grilling skills in my younger days," Jack thought, fanning the flames, sweat glistening on his brow. Guess those part-time gigs weren't for nothing.
Late-night snacks and beer—the rule never changed, no matter the world. Add the fact that the streets were at peak foot traffic, and as long as his food wasn't absolute garbage, someone was bound to notice. Whether they'd buy? That was another story.
"What do you guys want for dinner?" a group of adventurers strolled by, still in dusty gear.
"Anything," one grunted.
"I'm good with whatever," another said lazily.
"How about stew?"
"Forget it. The broth will remind me of the swamp. Please, don't make me relive that."
"You literally just said you were fine with anything!"
"Yeah, well, anything except stew."
"Then what do you want?"
"Anything."
"I'm good with whatever."
"Fine, fine—" The poor guy was about to snap when his nose twitched mid-sentence. His eyes widened slightly. "Wait... what's that smell?"
The others sniffed, their expressions shifting. "Smells like grilled meat... but what kind?"
They followed their noses, and the closer they got, the stronger the aroma became—savory, rich, with just a faint sweetness carried on the breeze. The kind of scent that made your mouth water even if you'd just eaten.
They didn't realize they were proving an old joke true: When you fart, just say, 'What's that smell?' and everyone will take a big whiff.
"Over there—at that BBQ stall!"
Jack looked up as a few potential customers approached. He immediately put on a professional smile—a relic from his old waiter days. "Welcome! What can I get you folks?"
"What exactly are you sel—" The man froze mid-question when his gaze landed on the grill.
"What the hell are those?!"
His voice cracked like a whip, and more onlookers turned to look.
Jack, calm as a seasoned salesman, gestured at the sizzling assortment on the grill. "This here is Pincer Fish. Over there? Snake-Frog. That's bacon-leaf. And that one..." He flipped a piece dramatically. "That's the mighty Saucetopus."
"What?" The man blinked. He understood every word individually, but together they made zero sense.
Sure, adventurers were used to seeing weird monsters—but these things looked like someone had smashed evolutionary logic to pieces and glued it back together blindfolded. If this guy had grown up on Earth, he probably would've muttered, 'What, did this fish bathe in nuclear waste?'
Instead, all he managed was: "Uh... is that even edible?"
His companions stared at him in disbelief. That's your concern? Not whether it's poisonous?! These things looked like they'd crawled out of a mad alchemist's lab!
"Why don't you try one and find out?" Jack raised his voice now that a small crowd had gathered. "Special products straight from Sein Dungeon—you won't find these anywhere else!"
Dungeon-exclusive!?
Ah. That explained everything. Ever since Sein Dungeon mutated, the monsters inside were like nothing anyone had ever seen. Even the monsterologists were stumped.
By now, "Weird creatures come from Sein Dungeon" was practically common knowledge.
"Alright then, I'll try... that one." The guy pointed at something that looked less terrifying than the rest—a thick yellow-green leaf that resembled a fatty cut of beef: bacon-leaf.
As it grilled, beads of oil sizzled and popped, dripping onto the coals with a sharp hiss, releasing a mouthwatering aroma that stole glances from even the most skeptical.
Jack sliced off a small piece and offered it—no extra seasoning, just the pure, primal taste.
The guy hesitated for a heartbeat, then popped it into his mouth.
"Whoa—salty!" he blurted, then paused. His eyes lit up. "The texture... incredible! Like top-grade beef, but with a refreshing crunch, and those fibers—plant-like yet tender! Perfect grill marks, too! And the salt... it's natural, isn't it? Cuts through the richness but still leaves this subtle kick on the tongue—"
He gave a dramatic thumbs-up. "Full marks!"
His friends stared like he'd grown a second head. Since when did you moonlight as a food critic?!
"Give me another slice—no, three! Actually, five! And that one! And that one too! Boss, tally it up!"
Jack chuckled. "No rush. If you buy them all, what's left for everyone else?" He jerked his chin behind the guy.
The man turned—and froze. A crowd had gathered, eyes gleaming like hungry wolves.
"Hey, kid, is it really that good?" A burly man stepped forward, swallowing hard. The kid recognized him instantly—"Ironblood" Terl, a Silver-ranked adventurer from a famous raid team!
Normally, the kid would've tripped over himself to show respect. But right now? Over food? He squared his shoulders. "I already reserved five slices of bacon-leaf. You can buy something else!"
"You little—" Terl glared, then turned to Jack. "Old man—uh, sir, I'll take a Pincer Fish."
"Coming right up." Jack's hands moved fast, breaking down the fish with expert precision. He sprinkled a dash of coarse salt, plated it neatly, and handed it over.
The fish meat glowed under the firelight, snowy white and glistening, tender yet firm. The claws were split open, stuffed with melted cheese, and served with a small cup of golden butter for dipping.
Terl wasted no time. He shoveled a mouthful of silky fish into his mouth, then scooped up a chunk of claw meat dripping with cheese and dunked it in butter before devouring it.
All eyes were glued to him. A Silver-ranked adventurer's verdict could make or break this stall.
"Hmm..." Terl chewed, swallowed, and finally spoke with a straight face: "Can't say I caught the flavor. Bring me another one."
He tried to hide it, but the gleam in his eyes said it all.
That was the breaking point
"I'll take a Pincer Fish!"
"I want a tentacle from the Saucetopus!"
"Forget a tentacle—sell me the whole damn octopus!" "Bacon-leaf! I need bacon-leaf!" "Back off, I called dibs!"
Jack's grin stretched so wide it could've split his face. His stall had officially exploded.