Frontier Chef: My Cooking Skills Are Broken-Chapter 21: Stone and Bone

The beetle was an hour into the desert when Ezra said it.

"You wanted to kill them."

Neve didn’t move against his chest. "Context, brute."

"The Ossalaka. You told me to draw, and I did. You—we were going to wipe the whole hunting party."

The bone necklaces clicked against each other as the beetle swayed.

"They had parents. Pups, probably," Ezra continued.

"Ossalaka are scavengers. Carnivorous when the opportunity shows. I doubt you can look in the eyes of parents who receive their children wrapped in bones." She waited for him to speak. "All jackals have teeth. Sharp ones."

"They’re semi-sapient."

Neve grabbed the harness that knotted over the beetle’s horns and pushed off his chest.

The beetle yelped and picked up the pace.

"And how would you know that? Naked brute of the jungle." She said the word like a slur. "You nearly got yourself killed with a Gynoscylla."

"That was different."

"You were armless and about to die in the dirt."

"So?"

"Keep it up and the next mouth you feed will bite your hand clean off again. And I won’t help you then."

Ezra raised his left hand and balled it shut.

"Why even save me that day? You could have just let me bleed to death."

The beetle continued east. The sand was giving way to gravel now, sunlight gleaming on something reflective at the horizon.

"Would have saved you a lot of trouble, too."

Neve stayed forward, her shoulders straight.

"Ask yourself the same question, brute. It was your idea to bring me to the water with you."

’If I didn’t save you, if I didn’t risk my ass twice for you there, you would’ve—’

"You would have fucking died."

She glanced back at him with those green eyes, unshaken and void of anything new.

"A Slayer invites death," she said, soft enough that he had to read the lips. "You know nothing."

"But you were afraid of that thing on the summit. What the fuck was that thing anyway?"

"I’d like to travel in silence now."

She pulled the harness taut and the beetle’s horns erected forward.

[ Ping! ]

[ You have four new notifications, would you like to view? ]

The golden text took up most of the view of Neve’s hair. He’d thank the System later for that.

’Perfect fucking timing. Show me, but don’t be so loud.’

[ Host, only you can see and hear the System messages ]

’Y’know what I mean.’

Ezra waited as the text loaded into existence.

[ Event Summary ]

> Crafted: Meal (★) x47

> +3525 Frontier Tokens

He read it again, then again. It had to be a glitch.

So he asked the obvious.

’Can you break it down?’

[ You cooked approximately 8.4 charred Common berries in the last morning, 37.6 in the evening, 1 in the dead of night, and failed extensively on a delicate pristine meat ]

’Well shit, that tracks. I’m fucking rich now. From Common berries alone? I should’ve grabbed more.’

The beetle hopped over a crevice in the ground and Ezra nearly fell off.

Neve didn’t even care to see if he was okay.

The golden text continued while he was lopsided.

[ You have leveled up: 5 ]

> Stat allocation available. (3) unspent points.

[ Ping! ]

[ You have proved your worthiness and unlocked access to the Frontier Market ]

’Finally.’

[ Ping! ]

[ You have gained further access to the System; ask for ’help’ for further instructions ]

[ Skill upgraded: Appraisal Lv. 4 → Lv. 5 ]

[ Skill upgraded: Ember Arts Lv. 2 → Lv. 3]

"You know what the difference between us is?" Neve said. If she turned now she’d see Ezra gawking at the air like a lunatic.

"Thought it was quiet time for bird girl?"

She scoffed, tensed her shoulders, then released in a single breath.

"You think cooking for something makes it your friend. I think anything with a weapon is a threat until it proves otherwise."

"They proved otherwise, though."

Ezra was upright again. He dismissed the golden text. The back of her shoulder blades came back in view.

"They proved otherwise to you. I was face-down by the water. All I saw was a tribe of armed scavengers surrounding a naked man who couldn’t defend himself."

"I kept you safe," Ezra muttered.

"No, we were lucky that whatever Art you’re using had anything to do with fire."

’She knows about Arts? Ember Arts?’

"Besides. Killing the Patriarch would have scattered the tribe."

"And starved the entire oasis."

They both went quiet after that.

The desert stretched flat and pale ahead of them. The walls were closer now. If the weather stayed true, it’d only be another two hours.

But it was getting hot. Hot enough that Ezra’s mouth began drooling dust.

"Harken is an outer-ring settlement."

Seemed like she’d moved on entirely.

Not that Ezra wanted to prod the fire even more.

"Outer-what?"

She explained it to him, the words recited and informative at worst, like descriptions found on pamphlets if anything like that existed here.

"Outer-ring means thin guild presence. A registrar decides who gets water and who doesn’t. You’re unranked and unregistered. That’s a problem before you open your mouth."

"A registrar handles intakes, while a Guildmaster handles contracts. Word was Harken lost its Guildmaster months ago. Slayers come and go. Most never overstay." Neve continued on, raising her fingers at each point. "Population is small. Most of the Harkens are smiths, healers, merchants, some fossil diggers. Like I said, there will be a registrar who will want to know who you are."

"What about you?"

She curled her fingers.

"Not your concern."

"Well, you’re a ruby—" Ezra stopped himself. Neve finally looked back again. He couldn’t tell what kind of face she was making.

"You saw my Keepsake."

The gem in her navel, the red jewel that warped into her skin like she’d never went a day without it.

"Hard to miss. And I was pulling out a splinter the size of your arm. You still haven’t thanked me." Ezra spoke again before he could stop himself. "You’re a Slayer. What does that mean?"

Neve whipped the harness on the beetle. It had been distracted trying to stomp on centipedes as long as Ezra’s wingspan.

"Slayers are the cullers to an overgrown infestation."

"You can’t just stop there."

"I can if I want." She fell back on Ezra’s chest. "Do you have any more of those berries?"

’Fuck.’

"No, the Ossalaka gave us rations and stole it back before I could say anything."

She muttered something and closed her eyes. "It’s fine. We’re almost there."

At this distance, Ezra could make out obsidian walls that spanned for miles. Trick of the heat, he thought.

But it was civilization.

And to be frank, Ezra was getting sick of nature.