Emery was a chef. A homeless one.
Several emaciated figures lay behind him, moaning. They had been left without places to stay in the recent territory skirmishes between Hemp and the fat bastard. Eventually, they gave up and moved to the other part of the city. The bad one.
Awakened rarely cared who they hurt.
'Better not to think of that right now,' he thought. 'A distracted chef is a bad one,'
A single carrot. An onion. Salt. Pepper. A bowl of water. Some oil and arguably the most important part to the starving people; a single piece of meat.
He chopped the vegetables quickly. Each stroke of the knife sliced thin portions off.
The meat came next. It was slightly harder since it had to be shared equally. The large throng of homeless people looked at him with expectant eyes.
But somehow, he managed to make it work. The prepping was over. It was time to cook.
A barrel of fire stood in front, crackling. The flames licked his body from time to time, but he was mostly used to that.
He got out a small pot and put some of the oil in as long as the onions and salt. Then he started putting the rest in. It was hardly complicated.
Emery worked with swiftness, combining the ingredients in less than twenty minutes.
He stirred the soup a little, causing a small strand of his long, cakey dark hair to fall into it. Dust, blood, and grime had accumulated after so long. It would be a certified health hazard worthy of closing any restaurant down.
But they weren't in a restaurant. They weren't even in a building.
Emery plucked the hair out of the soup quickly, aggravating the large gash that ran up his entire right arm. He bandaged it with a dirty piece of his tattered jacket, albeit poorly.
The searing pain remained as the flames licked his arms with joy, causing him to jump out of the way.
This time it was like the pain of a thousand needles stabbing his leg.
Just a single confrontation with a Class 10 Monster—the lowest threat level—had left him like this.
He ignored the pain and got out several makeshift wooden bowls. A spoonful of soup for each person.
There were a lot of homeless people. There wasn't enough soup.
Emery's own makeshift bowl was empty.
'It'll be fine. It'll be fine,' He chanted inwardly. 'It's not as if this day could get any worse than it already is.'
He couldn't be any more wrong.
"Hey kid, how are you doing?" A voice said to his side almost at the same time.
Of all people, this was the last person he wanted to see.
A portly man stood in front of him, decked head-to-toe in expensive things. Golden highlights enunciated the dark suit. Carlos was one of the few who could afford to do that after the Blightcaller altered the world.
"What do you want?" He snapped.
Carlos laughed, unfazed. "Always in such a bad mood, Emery."
The man rubbed his greasy palms together and continued, "I have an interesting offer for you. Want to hear it?"
A single second passed.
"To be honest?" he said, "No, not really."
Carlos saw that coming. "Are you sure? It involves those homeless people you're protecting."
'There it is…' he flinched. 'Please not again.'
"What do you want with me, Carlos?" He asked, "My cooking skills aren't enough to warrant this! Why are you so insistent on bothering me?"
The portly man smiled, then brushed the question off.
"I see the injuries you got there, kid. Especially the ones on your arm." He said, avoiding Emery's questions. "If it goes so long without treatment, you might lose your ability to cook anything again. Is that really what you want to happen?"
The itching on his hand was worse. A small dark spot had spread out from the starting point of the injury and a bit of pus was visible despite his best attempts at hiding it.
"It's none of your business," He muttered, tying the fabric around his arm even tighter. "No matter what you say or do, I won't help your stupid group."
"All you have to do is slap some dishes together, Emery. It's not like we're asking you to go kill a Class Ten threat or anything like that."
"I'd rather Dungeon dive alone and get thrown into a pit of Class Tens than work for you. At least my death will be peaceful that way."
"Come on, kid," the man said, running a hand through his dark hair. "I don't ask for much."
Another short moment of silence passed. It was barely noticeable, but Emery could see it. The vague ray of moonlight illuminated Carlos' wicked grin.
His smile became wider. "You'll accept my deal soon enough, kid."
"Fat chance, bastard."
Carlos fell silent once more, but he wasn't the type of person to take that without sitting.
He snapped, and two men appeared out of thin air. "Take some of them away. Make sure they look healthy first. These lots are prime picks since our dear little Emery has been doing a good job feeding them."
Both men wore similar black suits and dark glasses. They stepped past Emery and reached for the group of grifters behind. Both men carried three with ease, heading behind Carlos once done.
'None of these people are ever coming back. They'll all be dead,' he realized.
The thoughts flew by, but Emery only stood there.
'I have to try at least...'
With that thought he mind, he took a step, then moved to sock the fat man in the gut.
Nothing happened.
His fist landed on the man's suit, but he didn't move. It didn't even look like he felt the attack.
Carlos leaned forward, cleaning the slight smudges on his suit. "Good kid," he whispered, "You're not dumb, Emery. I'll give you a few more days to make the right decision."
"Don't try to be the hero, kid. That's why she died."
A whoosh sounded, and all three men disappeared. The alleyway had returned to the symphony of despair he was familiar with.
Emery took a deep breath again. Everything about Carlos riled him up. But he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't get angry.
He closed his eyes and tried to bring back everything he was familiar with.
The warm stove, the feeling of baking batter on his palms, the smile on his mother's face and the satisfaction on his father's, the smell of freshly cooked food…
It was wonderful, but it lasted less than a second.
Something else took over. A metallic scent filled his nostrils and alarms blared in his mind. Smoke followed, then dusted after that. Screams pierced his ears, adding to the feeling.
His eyes shot open. He struggled to his feet and swayed side to side, trying to figure it out.
'What's going on?' he thought, looking everywhere for help.
Several people pushed past him. Somewhere within that crowd of people, a person answered his question, inciting the already large panic.
"There's a Class Five in the area!"
'What?'
Emery could not react in time. His body slammed against the ground as the grifters pushed past him with more strength than they would ever be able to muster in their lives. Many had hidden in buildings, unable to even run.
He wasn't any better. His body cried for help, but there was nothing he could do right now. He pushed up from the ground quickly, resting himself against a nearby wall.
Class Fives were a whole different beast than that Class Ten that ripped through him so badly.
The injuries stung, but his will to live cleared his mind. Emery gathered himself, albeit a bit too late.
'I just want this to end,' He thought.
His bag of tools rattled a bit too loud before he grabbed a hold of it.
If this Class Five threat was anything like the ones he had heard about, then it probably had good hearing.
Which, unfortunately for him, was true
"ARFF!"
The bark came out of the blue, and a large ball of fire came hurling towards him.
His brain froze, and everything he knew came crumbling down.
The orange ball of death exploded into smaller orbs. They flew straight towards him, leaving trails of light behind them.
For Emery, time stopped. He saw his childhood up to that moment.
His love for cooking came from when his mother was still alive. He wasn't a chef… but he liked to call himself that.
'Mom? Dad?'
But he didn't go to see his parents just yet. He was lucky. The attack missed him by a hair's length and crashed into one of the buildings behind him.
SKREEEE~!
BOOM!
Emery snapped back to reality, and everything after was a blur. Ignoring the burning wreckage and falling debris, Emery's determination to survive burned stronger. He couldn't die yet!
He had no idea what the beast looked like, and he didn't want to. He ducked into a nearby building quickly, hoping the monster didn't see when he did so.
Emery clenched his fists white as he stared through the window from the corner of his eyes.
The beast stared back.
It was a distance away, but there it was, with its taunting gaze.
He huddled up in a corner, hoping the large dog monster wouldn't notice him. The next bark showed how futile it was.
"ARRRRF~!"
Through the window, Emery's wide eyes caught a glimpse of the monstrous dog swatting outward from where it sat.
Nothing happened at first, but a shockwave of invisible force rippled out.
Several buildings turned to dust when they made contact with the mysterious energy until it was finally this building's turn.
BOOM~!
A huge chunk next to him disappeared, falling below. Dust sprayed up as the piece came crashing.
Emery, unfortunately, couldn't dodge this time. A small part of the monster's energy paw slammed into him.
The force of the blow sent him flying backwards. His body collided with the ground and bounced once before stopping.
His neck was bent back at an unnatural angle, and his other working arm was twisted beyond recognition. It was ripped through by a piece of stone that jutted out of the ground.
Silence came after.
[Ding!]
A bright blue screen appeared in front of him, the colour contrasting with the red that engulfed his entire vision.
[User has satisfied the Monarch of Growth. Criteria achieved]
[Summoning System activated]
[Two Energy Points granted]
[Healing activated… Energy is not sufficient. Weak restoration activated. Body returning to its previous state]
[Criteria for first summon achieved]
[Decision is not required for this Summon]
[Summoning initiated]
[Summoning taking place in]
5
4
3
2
1
[Summoning Engaged]
A brilliant flash of light burst forth, illuminating the entire building with an incredible glow. Emery instinctively averted his gaze. He waited a minute or two before looking back once more.
And when he did, there was someone there.