The night air hung heavy over the jagged rocks of the mountain pass. Oozewell was gone—not just defeated, but entirely erased, leaving a hollow silence where a village once stood. Maddy sat by a crackling bonfire she had coaxed into life among the stones. The light danced off her face as she leaned over the flames, her expression one of intense, hungry focus.

Balanced over the heat, a thick, marbled leg of boar sizzled. Maddy hadn’t hunted this one; she had manifested it. Her shoulder rippled as she used Charging Strength to hold the heavy weight steady, while her forearm shimmered, transforming into the translucent membrane of the Food Slime.

"Look at that marbling, Lucy. I used Food Assimilation to recall the exact fat content of that Bomb Boar from the forest. Now, I’m using Culinary Adaptation to baste it from the inside out with its own rendered juices."

The aroma was intoxicating—a mix of woodsmoke, seared meat, and a sweet, citrusy glaze she had mimicked from the Sovereign’s own essence.

[Response: Your vitals are peaking, Maddy. You are literally drooling. Also, I must remind you that manifesting a limb just to cook it is... unconventional.]

Maddy let out a sharp, joyful bark of laughter. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"Unconventional? Lucy, it’s genius! Why wait for a hunt when I am the pantry? I’m the chef, the ingredients, and the stove all at once!"

She reached out with her free hand, which suddenly pulsed with a pale green light. She manifested a Hygiene Slime appendage, using its Cleansing Secretion to perfectly sanitize her stone "plate" before the meat touched it.

She paused for a moment, glancing to the side as if someone was standing there with her. Her grin softened just a little.

"...You know," she muttered, quieter this time, "I kinda wish you could actually eat with me."

She huffed lightly, shaking her head.

"Feels like I’m just talking to myself half the time. Like some crazy girl chatting with someone that doesn’t even exist."

Lucy responded instantly, tone flat but almost offended:

[Response: I do exist. I am simply not physically present. Also, if I could eat, I would not choose self-cannibalism as my first experience.]

Maddy snorted.

"Wow. Rude."

For just a split second, her smile faltered. A memory slipped in—A younger Maddy, small and thin, curled inside a makeshift shelter of damp cardboard in a narrow alley. The night had been dark, the kind that swallowed sound, broken only by the steady drip of rain leaking through holes in her fragile roof.

She had a cracked plastic plate on her lap. On it—scraps... and worms wriggling through what little food she had managed to find. And yet, she had been smiling.

"See? Today’s better."

The little girl had said, nudging the plate slightly as if offering it to someone sitting across from her.

"We even got extra."

There had been no one there. No voice. No reply. Still, she talked. Still, she laughed quietly, like she wasn’t alone at all. The memory faded as quickly as it came.

Maddy blinked once, her expression returning to its usual ease, as if nothing had surfaced at all.

Then, she sliced into the boar leg with a finger she had hardened into a Material Slime blade. The meat parted like clouds.

For a moment, her movements slowed. The playful energy faded just a little as her gaze drifted off, unfocused.

"I wonder what they’re doing right now... Are they eating already?"

She let out a quiet breath, the blade in her hand pausing mid cut.

"I told them, didn’t I... no matter what happens, they should always eat together. Even if I’m not there... even if things get messy... they still have each other at the table."

She resumed slicing, a little more gently this time.

"Hope they listened."

Lucy’s voice softened, just slightly:

[Response: Based on prior behavioral patterns... probability is high that they did.]

Maddy huffed a small laugh.

"Yeah... they better."

The smile lingered for a second... then softened.

"...I already miss them," she admitted quietly.

Her grip on the blade loosened just a fraction, the weight of that thought settling deeper than she expected. For a moment, it threatened to pull her somewhere soft, somewhere she couldn’t afford to stay.

She clicked her tongue and shook her head—once, twice, then harder, as if physically throwing the feeling off her shoulders.

"No. Nope. Not doing that. I don’t get to have separation anxiety. Not now."

She exhaled through her nose, eyes sharpening again.

"What I’m doing here... this matters. This is for them. For all of us."

A small, determined smile returned, this time with steel behind it.

"If I slack off just because I miss them, then what kind of mother does that make me?"

Lucy responded, tone calm but certain:

[Response: A human one.]

Maddy paused... then snorted.

"Yeah, well... I’ll be a useful one first."

She lifted the blade again, focus snapping back into place. Then without hesitation—she tore off a massive chunk of the boar leg and bit down. For a split second, everything went quiet.

And then... Her eyes shot wide open.

"—WHAT?!"

The flavor exploded across her senses. Rich, perfectly cooked meat, juicy, tender, and balanced in a way that made her brain short-circuit. It was as if every fiber had been seasoned with absolute precision. No bitterness, no excess fat, no need for adjustment. Just... perfection.

She froze mid chew, then slowly looked down at the meat in her hands like it had personally offended her.

"No way..." she muttered, chewing again just to be sure.

Her shoulders relaxed instantly. The tension, the lingering ache, the creeping loneliness—washed away in a single wave of pure, overwhelming satisfaction.

"Lucy... this is illegal. I didn’t even add anything! No herbs, no spices, no prep—nothing! And it’s perfect?!"

Her voice rose.

"This is peak efficiency! Do you know how much time I wasted before trying to make things taste like this?! THE FOOD SLIME IS GAME CHANGER!"

She laughed, loud and unrestrained now, already going for another big bite.

"I don’t need a kitchen—I am the kitchen!"

Lucy responded dryly:

[Response: Noted. User has reached a dangerous level of culinary self sufficiency.]

"Damn right I have!"