Chef (1)

Cyril was tired.

No, at this point, he had moved beyond tiredness into exhaustion.

He hadn’t been able to sleep.

It had been three or four days since the Waystation had fixed itself back up.

And after a friendly chat with the Waystation feather and receiving his rewards, he received a double dose of tasks.

Firstly.

[🔔Ding!🔔]

[Waystation Task (Daily): Make a Meal at the Waystation and Feed the Guard Dog!]

[Description: Make sure to feed the guard dog an edible meal made in the waystation.]

Reward: Guest Book (One time gift)(All ready received)

[Penalty: 💀Permanent Termination of Employment💀]

Cyril glared at the annoying task that popped up before continuing to aggressively stir the pot that he had bubbling on the stove.

It was what he liked to call the Guard Dog breakfast special.

Beef chunks boiled in a concoction of chili oil, red pepper, and every spicy vegetable he had found in the grocery store, mixing it all together until the meat turned an unappetizing grey and red color.

Once it was done, he calmly dumped it into a large bowl, making sure every single drop of oil, meat, and pepper entered the bowl before placing it outside of the door and staring at the black beast growling at him.

“Here, puppy, puppy, puppy. I made your favorite.”

Grrrrrrrrrrr.

With thick jet-black fur, menacing yellow eyes with a reddish tint, and a size closer to a large bear than a dog, it was a menacing beast that seemed to hate him with every fiber of its being.

This was the supposed guard dog of the waystation that had shown up once the 24-hour wait time was up, but to Cyril, it was his personal nightmare.

The moment the wolf spotted him, it began growling angrily without getting up, but he simply flipped it off, not phased in the slightest by the daily routine that had been repeated for the past couple of days.

“Here’s the meal, hand-made, guaranteed to clear your sinuses, and I even delivered it to boot. Enjoy or don’t; either way, the task is done. You’re welcome.”

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

At the angry snarl that exposed unnaturally large teeth, he just slammed the door shut and went to sit on the couch in the common room while rubbing his eyes.

He was completely exhausted, and his head hurt, but he still couldn’t sleep.

Since that daily task was completed, he turned his eyes to the unsolved task that was giving him a headache.

[🔔Ding!🔔]

[Intern Remote Orientation Task 4: Wine and Dine - Eat and Drink Something Produced at the Waystation!]

[Description: Somehow, you have managed to defend your shabby-looking Waystation, even though it was destroyed and rebuilt due to your poor judgment and lacking skills. I mean, being so weak that you choose to destroy your waystation before others can is a choice. Not a good one, but a choice nonetheless that somehow paid off.]

[🎉👏👏👏👏👏🎉WOW🎉👏👏👏👏👏🎉]

[🎉👏👏👏👏👏🎉WOW🎉👏👏👏👏👏🎉]

[🎉👏👏👏👏👏🎉WOW🎉👏👏👏👏👏🎉]

[Still, the show must go on. Prepare an appropriate meal and drink set and eat it at the waystation.]

Reward: 1 Employee Store Point + Employee Store Opening

[Penalty: 💀Permanent Termination of Employment 💀]

Cyril: ಠ_ಠ

Even if he ignored the condescending words, it was a task that seemed simple right?

Make some food, drink some water and it should be completed.

Right??

WRONG!

No matter what he did, Cyril was unable to complete the quest.

He had tried everything from making instant ramen and drinking tap water to making a five-course meal and drink with ingredients he had permanently borrowed from a looted grocery store.

Nothing! Had! Worked!

It made no sense!

The guard dog's daily task basically had the same message, and it was easily completed regardless of how shoddy the food he made was.

In fact, the pepper bomb stew fed to the wolf could barely be considered edible, and yet the task was completed as soon as he placed the food down for the wolf.

Yet this stupid task couldn’t be completed??

As the throbbing pain in his head intensified, making the headache that had plagued him even worse, Cyril flopped down on the couch, shut his eyes, and tried to think. Where was the solution to this problem? He had thoughts about what the task actually wanted him to do, but truly, it just seemed like a suicide attempt because of his nonexistent skills. But he needed to get past this task, but the process was…..

Before a minute had even passed…

The howling began as the large black wolf easily walked through the walls to sit and stare at him.

Then it began howling.

Owooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Ow ow ow owooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

This was it.

The reason he was now at war with the guard dog.

Each time he tried to sleep in the room, the wolf would body slam him out of the bed and howl until he left the room.

While it seemed that it couldn’t directly injure him, it was still an unpleasant sensation getting battered around and getting injured by the surrounding furniture.

And, no matter where he tried to get some rest, in the bathroom, kitchen, or common room, it would walk through the wall and howl in his face with an expression that looked suspiciously like a mocking smile.

As if daring him to do something.

Trying to report it to H.E.L.P Apocalypse Co. was completely ignored with reference to warnings received before purchase, and efforts to communicate with the wolf ended with violence.

So naturally, he retaliated the only way he knew how.

Sabotage the task of feeding it.

First, he had tried putting rat poison in the food he had to give it, but since the task wasn’t considered complete and he received a warning, he moved to other methods.

Aka, unintentional poisonous cooking.

Too salty, too sweet, too spicy, too sour. Mushy, crunchy, extra charred.

Cyril maliciously remixed the food he made in an effort to break that wolf’s spirit so that a truce could be called and he could get some rest.

Oh?

Are you asking why he was eating dry instant noodles, raw vegetables, and packaged snacks instead of the food he so lovingly made for the resident guard dog?

Obviously, it was because he cared about the health of all animals and would never feed such an honored staff member the disgusting, nasty, prepackaged garbage that humans put in their mouths. Things like instant ramen were dangerous.

Do you know that it could cause cancer?

Fresh ingredients were always best, especially for animals, regardless of their behavior and since he had to make a homecooked meal, he might as well put his full sincerity inside of it.

It was his fervent wish, his deepest desire, and only request that the guard dog would just choke on a ghost pepper, have nothing to drink but chili oil broth, and drop dead and die with a jalapeno stuck in its nostrils.

For those claiming animal abuse, sleep deprivation is illegal under international law because it is torture.

And now, it had become a battle of wills to see who would cave in first.

Cyril would spend the day rereading the handbook while moving around the waystation investigating various things, and the wolf who would harass him when he tried to sleep would have no choice but to eat the hellfire meal prepared for it by Cyril.

Still, the war had been going on for over four days, and it was now time to retreat strategically to come back stronger.

Without getting up, Cyril opened a Door beneath the chair and made the exit into the room that contained the sanctuary spark.

Seeing the feather, which had grown larger and now had a hint of red, come out of the wooden ball and gently caress his face, Cyril closed his eyes to enjoy the temporary peace before the howling began again as the wolf walked through the wall, shrunk itself, and stared at him balefully.

“Take a picture, it will last longer.”

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

POP!

The sanctuary spark popped back into the wooden ball and smacked against the wolf which did nothing but temporarily stop snarling.

As the feather came to float in front of him once more, Cyril could feel the sensation of worry as well as fists being shaken angrily at the Guard dog that refused to listen and did as it pleased coming from the feather.

“Little Oasis, I’m going to head back to my apartment to sleep and run the tests we talked about, so I’ll be back later. Hide all the goods and smack that damn dog with a plank when you get the chance.” Cyril pointed at the little wolf, which didn’t move past the sanctuary spark, and just continued to stare at him.

Little Oasis: ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡)(ง •̀_•́)ง

“I’m not cheating on you. And it’s not you; it’s that dog keeping me from sleeping so beat him up properly. Just lock up the place and don’t let anyone enter. And please, grab my bag and bike for me so I can head out.”

Whoooooosh-

A compact black backpack with HELP Apocalypse Co. printed in large neon green letters appeared along with a regular blue bike. After putting the bag on, flicking the feather once while flipping off the wolf, Cyril opened a Door outside and began biking toward my apartment.

As he looked around, the city looked completely unrecognizable.

Having holed up after looting the guest center and stores near me, he hadn’t stepped one foot out of the waystation, focusing on monitoring the external situation while trying to decide what to do.

To put it mildly, everything was a mess.

The government had declared emergency martial law, there had been protests and fights between civilians and the military, and the communication had been shaky.

The one time he had gone out, he had seen collapsed and burning buildings, vandalized stores, and bodies, both human and monster, strewn across the streets like trash.

The streets themselves weren’t clear, all of them filled with vehicles that had been abandoned or had crashed.

Even though it was a sunny day, the city was filled with black smoke and smog, making everything feel dreary and grey.

It was honestly quite depressing.

As he biked, Cyril tried to call several phone numbers, but seeing that there was no service once again, he sighed.

He didn’t know what had happened, but cell service and the internet only worked intermittently and not for very long, almost as if someone flicked an on-and-off switch repeatedly.

The only thing that worked somewhat steadily was the radio and even that was just filled with the same orders and reports from the government offices with no real information as to what was happening.

When checking online, it seemed to be the same everywhere: people panicking, fighting, and killing each other, and there was little order as the governments across the world seemed to have the same response.

The only calm spot around him was his waystation.

Very few people approached it, and those who did end up disappearing entirely if they happened to be by the lake or torn to shreds by teeth and claws before being politely buried with quick use of Door.

To disguise the pile of soil that was constantly being excavated, he had even planted the garbage seeds that he had been given. Overnight, the seeds grew into red flowers that spread a pleasant scent and contrasted with the green grass.

Cyril would have been perfectly fine staying there until his food ran out and he had to scrounge for more, but….his body really couldn’t do it anymore.

He needed to find a way to get life energy coins, enough to book the room as a guest room that the wolf couldn’t enter, or he needed to go to a safe place to sleep.

Even now, he felt slightly delirious, and he was definitely running a fever.

His only hope was that nothing had happened to his apartment so he could get some rest. If not…

As he biked along, noticing some people glaring at him as they sat on the streets or walked around in packs while scrounging through the stores, Cyril calmly whispered to himself.

“Map.”

Immediately overlaying his vision was a holographic map that centered on his waystation location before spreading out. The green area represented the land around the waystation, while a white moving dot represented him as he pedaled quickly toward the central city area.

As he pedaled, more of the map filled in, and he purposefully took paths that he hadn’t before to expand it, all the while making sure he was always in an open area so he couldn’t be sneakily attacked by people eyeing him.

A right turn on Main Street, a left turn on Broad Street, and crossing the roundabout brought him to the central city area, where he had to pivot to head to the university district toward his apartment.

As he biked across a large intersection, he noticed an increasing military presence off to the side, with tanks in the streets, cones and tapes blocking off an alley, and soldiers dressed in combat fatigues with guns herding civilians, mainly men but also some women and children, toward a particular direction.

The moment he accidentally made eye contact with a soldier standing by the tank, Cyril immediately spun the bike around in a slick maneuver and began pedaling as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

“Hey! We missed one! Get him!”

Unfortunately, a giant, slightly translucent orange arm yanked him from the bike before dragging him backward and setting him in front of the soldier with the translucent orange arm still gripping him tightly.

No matter how he flexed or strained his body, nothing moved, so rather than strain his already exhausted body, Cyril sat calmly while taking everything in.

The area had been strangely silent despite the sheer number of people moving around, but it became noisy as soon as he was brought close to the soldier.

He could hear orders being barked, people screaming and crying, and the sounds of vehicles moving.

Glancing up at the older soldier wearing a camouflage uniform, helmet, and visor combination, with his gun strapped to his back and one hand extended, Cyril gave him a once over before catching sight of the other soldiers approaching with their guns cocked at him.

“Why am I being detained officer…Jackson?” Cyril squinted hard to read the name label.

“That’s Sergeant to you.”

“Okay, why am I being detained?”

“Sir.”

“Pardon me?”

At Cyrils’ confused expression, the soldier barked.

“I am your superior officer, you will refer to me as Sergeant or sir.”

Cyril: “……”

Cyril: ಠ_ಠ

Is now really the time for this? What part of me looks like I’m in the military?

Taking a deep breath and counting to 10 to restrain an already short temper, Cyril replied as calmly as he could.

“Okay, Sergent Jackson, sir, why am I being detained, sir?”

“You’re crossing private property, and you’re ignoring the orders from the commander in chief. Orders to defend your country and utilize your abilities for good instead of meandering around and wasting it.”

“What the hell are you talking about, sir? I haven’t heard about such orders, sir. It’s a free country, sir. I don’t give a rat’s ass about this country, sir, and this is a public street paid by tax dollars, sir. When the hell did this become private property, sir?”

Hearing Cyril’s clearly disrespectful tone and mocking speech, the sergeant's face immediately turned red.

“Don’t take that tone with me, young man, and wipe that disrespectful look on your face! You, as a citizen who has enjoyed the benefits that this country has to offer, have been given the opportunity of a lifetime to be conscripted and defend your country using the abilities granted to you for good instead of evil. So watch your mouth!” As the Sergent barked at him, the translucent orange arm holding him hostage squeezed tightly, forcing the air out of him.

Cyril: ಠ_ಠ

As he choked, Cyril couldn’t help but glare at the man.

Firstly, when did becoming conscripted become an opportunity of a lifetime? Obviously, it was the opportunity to die early, and having experienced that once, he had no plans to do it again.

Plus, who the hell did this guy think he was talking to?

“Now, what’s your name? List your abilities so you may be put to good use for the betterment of us all.”

At the commanding tone of the military officer, Cyril held on to his thin sliver of reason that had been worn away by lack of sleep and replied through gritted teeth.

“First of all, you can’t conscript me; I’m a diplomat, so I’m exempt from all of this.”

Hearing his words, the sergeant smiled mockingly at the expected excuse.

This was the 20th one of the day. He would be willing to bet his right hand that the kid had no proof. First, he would say he lost it, then he would spout some plausible numbers, wasting everybody's time in searching it up and when they finally found out he was lying, some rich family member would come save him.

The moment he saw that dyed white hair, bloodshot eyes that looked dazed and manic, and the immediate response as he ran away once he spotted soldiers, he knew what he was.

A young kid who was spoiled rotten, probably on drugs and completely high on his newfound abilities, who wanted to avoid responsibility.

Since his parents had raised him wrongly, he would straighten him out for the good of this country.

“Is that so? Where’s the proof of Identification?”

“I lost it. I’m on my way to get a copy of it right now.”

At the expected excuse, the sergeant laughed

“Heh. How convenient. Do you think that you’re the first to use that excuse? Get in line, list your information, and willingly defend your country, or you’ll be in trouble for lying and resisting conscription. Do you think just because you have new abilities, you can resist the government?”

“I’m not lying. Look it up. My ID number is XXX-XXX-XXXX. Passport number is XXXXXXXXXXXXX. Full name: Cyril Alexander Taylor. I have ambassador-level diplomatic immunity, and this is actually a violation of my rights. According to protocol, I’d like to speak with your commanding officer immediately or to be transferred to the nearest government office or embassy for further clarification. I’d also like your full name and position. Sir.”

“Sergeant, should we listen to him? He seems pretty confident.” A young-looking soldier asked while keeping his gun pointed at Cyril’s face.

At the worried tone, the sergeant glanced at the pale young man with the lightly flushed face and unsteady eyes glaring at him before nodding.

He did look like many wealthy teenagers who had been causing havoc within the past couple of days, which firmed up his mind.

He might have had to release the others due to their family's influence, but this one was alone and looked weak.

He hadn’t even tried to fight back, which meant his abilities were useless.

“Just throw him in the portal with the others according to the commander’s orders. If he survives, it won’t be too late to deal with the situation then.”

And if he doesn’t, well, who cared? They had bigger issues to deal with.

“Wait, what? Throw me where? No! What the fuck!”

Happy with his decision and completely ignoring the boy struggling in his grip, the sergeant carried Cyril with the translucent orange arm to get his ankles chained up before being thrown in line with the other people and forcefully led to a glowing portal in the alleyway.

[Dungeon: Chimera Tunnels]

[Level 2]

[Time before break: 150: 22: 49]

Oh no.

No. no. no. no. Hell no.

Absolutely not.

The moment he saw the title, Cyril stopped walking, causing the person behind him to bump into him.

“Move, Pen boy! Damn useless ability.”

As Cyril was jabbed with a gun butt to his back, he reluctantly read the holographic title before walking in.