[Voidknight Ascension] Chapter 251 – Mustard of Madness

The Skyshard’s barrier flashed above, repelling errant chunks of rock and debris. The storm seemed to be lessening. Green lightning strikes were replaced by chunks of shattered Skyshards that disguised the Maelstrom’s corrupted meteors.

Haman didn’t look up from kneading this batch of [Endura Dough]. He didn’t even seem to notice anything was amiss. The mandragoras scattered, pulling out wooden weaponry as if preparing for another fight.

There had been a couple more attacks. It was nothing the people of Sil’mara couldn’t handle. Even the newcomers were beginning to pitch in and take lessons from the others.

Raiko watched the sky for more of those falling meteors. If one made it past the barrier, then those Maelstrom-corrupted monsters were sure to spawn from the craters they left behind. It was difficult to protect so many people at all hours of the day. Those monsters could appear anywhere the meteors touched down.

If left for too long, a horde would spawn and launch itself at the nearest group of people. Sil’mara’s walls held against such assaults but it made it hard for people to get patrol experience when being outside of the walls spelled certain death.

As the fastest, most mobile defender, Raiko typically took all shifts. She slept whenever she could and was awoken if any meteors were sighted. It was difficult to get enough rest.

At least no one had died. Only injuries.

Injuries the Never Levelers didn’t handle well. Not necessarily because they were the ones to get injured. Watching Lenal being healed by Kai was a little too much for them to bear. Or maybe they felt guilty that an elf protected one of them.

A Never Leveler would more than likely get one-shot by one of those monsters. Having an elf wielding magic in their faces–a clearly magical creature from fairy tales of their childhood–was too much for them.

There was only so much a person could do to deny the reality pressing in all around them.

Their behavior continued to frustrate and bewilder Raiko. She remained hopeful the group would adjust, but it was growing increasingly unlikely with each passing day.

The power discrepancy was worsening in Sil’mara. The kingdom needed more able-bodied combatants. More than the Lords.

At least Raiko’s own Job and Path levels weren’t suffering.

Haman chirped a melody to himself, calming the startled mandragoras who eagerly returned to watching the pobul work.

Rather than move to the workshop, Haman continued his craft at his farm. Now that it had joined Sil’mara, it was no longer a tiny isle, but something else. It deserved a proper name, something on par with a tile at least.

Haman hadn’t been receptive to any suggestions yet.

The pobul tended his plants. He fed them mana through his Water attunement, fortifying and strengthening them. By growing his farm well, he grew stronger in turn, which then enhanced his farm further.

It was easy to see the cycle he was creating.

Xero was a frequent visitor. If only to complain about the latest batch of recruits.

“You agreed to train them,” Raiko told him without much heat. This was a conversation they had frequently over the past few days.

The drow looked over at her as soon as he entered the small hut Haman erected on his property. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yet,” Raiko reminded him.

“You got me bang-on,” Xero said with a laugh. His mood soured as soon as Raiko turned to him.

“You should rest,” Xero said, looking her up and down.

Raiko, of course, shrugged off the comment.

“You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends! Take a moment. Breathe. Smell the bread baking in the ovens, mate. Give ‘er a rest.”

“I rested enough while Haman was away,” she said, though she watched the baking bread longingly.

It was peaceful here, in this slice of paradise Haman created.

***

Seeing that he was getting nowhere, Xero shook his head and walked off, grumbling about women. He left a sheathed blade behind. A katana.

Haman grumped aloud. Not because of Xero but because of Raiko’s steadfast insistence on doing everything.

It was clear to the pobul that she had long since run herself ragged. He thought about how he felt when they were separated and knew that Raiko felt the same.

They were two of the same soul. Inseparable.

It hurt when they were forced apart. Now that they were together, Haman considered it his duty to help her through yet another loss.

One he did not fully comprehend but could only guess at the depths of.

After a long stretch of silence, Haman rolled the ball of springy dough around on the floured tabletop and gently set it into a bowl.

“I like to think,” Haman said softly, as if talking to himself, “we could learn much from bread.”

He waited a moment, tuning his little bear ears to listen for Raiko’s shuffle as she turned to regard him. Haman kept his gaze on the tucked ball of dough in the bowl. “Sometimes, in order to rise, all we need is a little rest.”

As if to accentuate his point, he gave the ball of dough a gentle pat and covered the bowl with a damp cloth.

Raiko was quiet. That was a good sign. It meant she was thinking about what he said.

It seemed she didn’t like to listen to Xero. Not anymore.

But Raiko listened to Haman.

He smiled when she petted his head.

Haman thought he might be getting through to her until a knock came at the door.

For as much as Raiko bemoaned her position as Queen, she embodied the role with all her heart and soul. She didn’t turn anyone away if they came in need of her help.

It came as no surprise to Haman when Raiko returned from the door to kiss him on top of his head and scoop him up into her arms. They had another problem to tackle.

She rarely let him leave her side, which meant that more often than not, Haman had to schedule his chores around what Raiko was doing.

Which was often helping other people with one problem or another. With his [Endura Dough] proofing on the counter, Haman didn’t have much else to do.

And he would not have denied Raiko the comfort that holding him obviously gave her.

“It is not a replacement for sleep,” he muttered softly to himself. Too softly for even Raiko’s sensitive ears to pick up.

“Did you say something, Haman?” Raiko asked as she swept out of the doorway. She fitted a new sheath to her side. The blade Xero had gifted her without a word.

Haman gave her a noncommittal squeak.

As they passed the Sacred Tree, Haman turned his soulful brown eyes toward it. I said I would try, Haman sent to the Sacred Tree. I did not say that she would listen.

Raiko, the wind streaming through her hair, hardly glanced at the tree as they passed it on the way to Sil’mara’s newest problem.

In Sam’s absence, Raiko had thrown herself at nearly every issue Sil’mara had. No matter how big or small, it was generally understood that the Queen would handle it personally.

If not personally, then she would at least be in attendance to make sure everything went right.

It was a marked change from how Haman knew Raiko preferred to handle things. However, he also knew that keeping busy kept her mind from thinking too long about unpleasant things.

Each day that passed with no further sign of Sam only exacerbated her overzealous nature.

Haman worried.

And the person he would normally go to with his worries was the one causing them. It was a problem that Haman had little experience with, but he remained steadfast despite it all.

Raiko blatantly ignored his earlier hints.

Even his more poignant remarks seemed to fall on deaf ears. Sometimes, he wondered if his innate pobul cuteness worked against him.

Perhaps it was time for drastic action.

***

“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!” Molly, the Burger Queen, shouted. “Let me at ‘er!”

She batted aside her loyal soldiers with her recently upgraded [Dark Bronze Spatula] swirling with the enchanted heat of the [Flamebroiled] effect.

The big palooka that was causing all the ruckus was some strange monster Molly had never seen before. And since the apocalypse, Molly had seen a lot.

Too much, really.

But this? This was new.

The creature sprouted tentacles with vicious suckers and several beak-like mouths. If she hadn’t been born and raised in a land-locked state, she might have recognized the resemblance to some oceanic lifeforms.

Molly just wanted the thing dead. It had come out from a craggy meteor the size of a Honda Civic. Strange smoke and flashes of lightning presaged the creature’s appearance.

And then the screaming began.

The Burger Queen ruled with an iron fist, but she did not take the loyalty or the safekeeping of her subjects lightly. She and her Burger Knights marched to the rear of the overgrown parking lot, where they were planting spuds in trash bags full of dirt.

Soon they would have a crop of golden potatoes to turn into fresh hot french fries.

Molly lurched to the side as a tentacle the size of a tree branch came crashing down. She tucked and rolled, her oversized Burger Queen mascot mask cushioning her roll.

Anybody else might have found it odd or unwieldy. Not Molly.

She was the Burger Queen.

It wasn’t just a stupid outfit for an underpaid employee. She had come to learn the secrets of the Burger Queen. It whispered into her dreams.

There was no taking that thing off anyway.

The [Mustard of Madness] burned bright yellow in the googly eyes glued to the mask. Her brave Burger Knights formed a semi-circle in front of her. A wall of sheet pan shields and sharpened spatulas held off the monster’s whipping tentacles as the Burger Queen readied her signature attack.

Raising her [Dark Bronze Spatula] to the sky, Molly called upon the powers of her namesake.

[Would You Like Fries With That?] blasted out a stream of sharpened, frozen fries that were harder than nails. The stream of projectiles pierced deep into the squishy flesh of the tentacled creature.

It let out an otherworldly wail of pain but still managed to sweep one colossal tentacle out and wipe away Molly’s knights in one go.

“Well, isn’t that a fine how-do-ya-do?” she complained. “Let’s see how you handle me with a little extra mustard!”

[Mustard of Madness] blazed in her googly eyes, granting her greater speed and power than ever before. She was loath to use the ability too much. It made her see things she wished she could forget. Things from forgotten planes of reality that were far removed from the comforts of home.

There was no denying the power it granted her, though. And for this particular foe, she would need every condiment of advantage she could muster.

Molly tucked and rolled beneath one gargantuan tentacle that clipped one of her rising knights. She sliced up with the sharpened edge of her spatula. The blade bit deeply into the creature’s wriggly hide and a gout of brackish blood fountained out, blinding her and dousing the madness temporarily.

Molly reeled from the sudden loss of connection to her patron. She would have been crushed right then and there if not for the mysterious flash of frozen lightning that cleaved the creature in two and blasted the thing to bits for good measure.

When the smoke and dust settled, the creature was deader than a doornail. Standing on top of the cluster of beaks and tentacles was the strangest woman Molly had ever seen.

She stabbed the monster with a long, curved blade several times. Far too many to make any sense to Molly. When a System notification appeared in Molly’s vision telling her the monster was well and truly dead, she understood the woman’s belligerence had a purpose.

Though Molly had never seen this woman before, she could guess well enough where she had come from based on her attire.

“P.F. Changs or Panda Express?” Molly asked, trying to ascertain the allegiance of the strange woman.