Chereads / The Outsider’s Requiem: A Mercenary's Meta Quest / Chapter 9 - Chapter 9: Heroic Feasts and Distracted Deeds

Chapter 9 - Chapter 9: Heroic Feasts and Distracted Deeds

The wind shifted as Ubuntu wandered down the barren path, the distant scream now fully behind him, fading into the landscape like a bad memory. His stomach growled again, louder this time, demanding that he put his so-called "heroic duties" on hold for something far more pressing—food.

He scanned the horizon, half expecting some kind of pop-up food stall to materialize out of nowhere. This is an isekai world, right? Surely there had to be some random fantasy cart selling bread, meat, or at the very least, a half-decent apple. But no, the twisted trees and jagged rocks offered nothing in the way of sustenance.

"Of course," he muttered, kicking at a stray pebble. "In a world full of monsters, ancient fortresses, and shadow overlords, the one thing they can't summon is a decent meal."

His pace slowed as he reached the top of a small hill, where the landscape finally began to change. In the distance, just beyond a bend in the road, he spotted something that looked promising. A faint trail of smoke curled into the sky, accompanied by what could only be described as the smell of cooked meat. For a second, he thought he might be hallucinating.

"Is that...?" Ubuntu's stomach growled again, giving him all the confirmation he needed. "Yep, that's food."

With renewed energy, he picked up his pace, practically jogging down the hill. As he rounded the bend, the source of the smell came into view: a small roadside stall, tucked away under the shade of a few twisted trees. It looked run-down, but Ubuntu didn't care. A ramshackle wooden sign hung above the counter, crudely painted with the words "Auntie Mara's Grill".

He walked up to the counter, trying to act casual despite the fact that his stomach was about five minutes away from a full-blown rebellion.

Behind the counter, a plump, middle-aged woman with graying hair and a sharp gaze was tending to a grill that sizzled with chunks of what looked like roasted meat. Her apron was stained with grease, and the smell of spices filled the air around her.

"Welcome," she said without looking up from her cooking. "What can I get ya?"

Ubuntu's eyes darted between the various skewers of meat sizzling over the fire. "Uh... everything?"

Auntie Mara glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "You sure about that, kid? You don't look like you've got the coin for everything."

Ubuntu patted down his pockets out of habit, then stopped. Right. No money. Of course. It wasn't like he'd thought ahead or anything. Not that he'd ever had money since landing in this weird world.

"Alright," he said, thinking quickly. "How about a hero's discount?"

The woman stared at him, deadpan, not missing a beat. "A hero's what now?"

"You know, a discount for the brave, the noble, the—" He gestured vaguely toward himself. "—starving? I just took down a pretty big villain not far from here. Fortress collapsed, whole thing. You might've heard the noise."

Auntie Mara's eyes narrowed. "You took down the Sovereign, huh?"

"Well, I didn't say Sovereign, but... yeah. Let's go with that."

She didn't seem impressed. "You want food, you pay for it. I don't run a charity."

Ubuntu sighed, his eyes drifting back to the skewers of meat. They looked even better up close, dripping with grease and charred to perfection. His stomach let out a groan that was probably audible within a ten-mile radius. He glanced around, looking for some sort of solution.

Think, think...

"Alright, what if I work for it?" he asked, leaning against the counter. "I do some chores, you give me food. We both win."

Auntie Mara crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. "You don't look like the workin' type."

"Hey, don't judge by appearances. I can do plenty. Lifting things, breaking things, uh... punching things."

Her eyebrow quirked again. "Breaking things? Punching things? What kinda 'hero' are you?"

"The flexible kind," Ubuntu replied, offering a shrug. "So, we got a deal or not?"

Auntie Mara looked him up and down, then finally sighed. "Fine. You clear out the back shed—there's a whole bunch of junk back there that's been piling up—and I'll give you one meal. One. Deal?"

"Deal," Ubuntu said, a grin spreading across his face. Food was food, after all.

She pointed a stubby finger toward a small, decrepit shed behind the stall. "Get to it. And don't break anything important. Or you'll be payin' with more than your muscles."

Ubuntu gave a mock salute and made his way over to the shed. The door creaked as he opened it, revealing an absolute mess of old crates, broken chairs, and rusted tools. It smelled faintly of mold and something else he didn't want to think about. But whatever—it was a small price to pay for food. And besides, clearing out some junk was hardly the most dangerous thing he'd faced today.

He rolled up his sleeves and got to work, stacking the crates and tossing the broken furniture into a neat pile outside the shed. His mind drifted as he worked, thinking back to the scream he had heard earlier. It was still nagging at him, like a tiny voice at the back of his mind, reminding him that there were people out there—probably innocent people—who needed help.

He shook his head, focusing back on the task at hand. Food first. Rescue second. He could save the day after his stomach stopped threatening to eat itself.

As he dragged another crate outside, Auntie Mara leaned against the counter, watching him with mild curiosity.

"So, you really took down the Sovereign, huh?" she asked, flipping a skewer of meat on the grill.

"Yep," Ubuntu grunted, hefting a broken chair over his shoulder. "Big guy. Lots of dramatic speeches. Kept trying to tell me I was insignificant or something. You know the type."

"Hmph. Figures." She turned the skewer again, the smell of charred meat making Ubuntu's stomach twist with anticipation. "Always figured that old bastard was just full of hot air. But no one ever tried to take him down. Most folks just stayed clear of that fortress."

"Yeah, well..." Ubuntu wiped the sweat from his forehead and tossed the chair into the pile. "He wasn't as tough as he thought."

Auntie Mara smirked, clearly amused by his confidence. "You've got guts, kid, I'll give you that. Not sure about brains, though."

"Brains are overrated," Ubuntu replied, dusting off his hands. "You can punch your way through most problems."

"Is that so?" she said with a chuckle. "Well, I guess we'll see how far that gets you."

A few more crates later, Ubuntu finally finished the job. He stretched his arms, feeling the satisfying crack of his joints popping back into place. "Alright, done. Now about that meal..."

Auntie Mara inspected the pile of junk outside the shed and nodded approvingly. "Good enough." She handed him a skewer of sizzling meat, the smell practically causing him to salivate on the spot. "Here. Don't say I never gave ya nothin'."

Ubuntu took the skewer with a grin, biting into the meat without hesitation. The flavor exploded in his mouth—juicy, smoky, with just the right amount of spice. It was easily the best thing he'd eaten since arriving in this strange world.

"Now this is what I'm talking about," he mumbled through a mouthful of food. "Worth every second."

Auntie Mara watched him for a moment, then went back to tending her grill. "So, what's next for you, hero? More monster-hunting? More fortress-smashing?"

Ubuntu paused mid-bite, the image of the scream from earlier suddenly flashing in his mind again. He sighed, shaking his head.

"Yeah, about that..." He set the skewer down for a moment, addressing the invisible audience again. "I know, I know. I should go save the girl. It's, like, the bare minimum for hero stuff, right? But honestly, I'm not lying—my stomach was practically eating itself. So here's the deal."

He held up a finger, his tone serious despite the absurdity of what he was saying. "We've got two options. Option one: I finish this meal and then I go be the hero, all heroic-like. Option two: She, uh... figures it out while I finish this delicious skewer, and I show up fashionably late. Maybe give her some pointers afterward."

Another pause. His stomach growled, as if casting its vote.

Ubuntu sighed, shaking his head again as he picked the skewer back up. "Yep. We're going with option two. She'll be fine."

And with that, he took another bite, savoring the moment.