I Was Transmigrated As An Extraordinary Extra-Chapter 285

"Um," I said carefully, looking back at Dagur. "Are you... keeping that?"

"Why?" Dagur laughed. "You gonna cook it?" He casually dropped the Marrowfin onto the floor.

For the record, the others didn’t know Kairos was good at cooking. And if I asked him in front of them, they’d definitely think I was joking—or worse, tease me about it forever.

"You can just keep it in the fridge and eat it later," Dagur said generously.

I looked down at the Marrowfin again, its scales still faintly shimmering.

"...Yeah," I said at last. "I’ll do that."

I could just ask Thorne or Ghost to cook it when they got back.

That was definitely the smarter choice.

Even if my stomach disagreed.

Dagur glanced back at Kairos. "Hey, Boss. If you’re bored, come out with me. It’s really fun out there."

"I’m fine," Kairos replied without looking away from the screen. "Enjoy it yourself."

Dagur snorted. "Don’t regret it later." He waved a hand over his shoulder. "I’m heading out again. Bye!"

The door slammed shut with a thunderous bang.

I flinched. ’That’s the fifth door this month...’

He seriously needed to stop doing that. Replacing reinforced doors wasn’t cheap—even for me.

A second later, the door burst open again.

"Oh, right—!"

Dagur rushed back inside and made a beeline for the minibar. "Hey, Rum! Whiskey on the rocks."

The golem managing the bar moved instantly, ice clinking as it prepared the drink and handed it over.

"Perfect," Dagur said, downing it in a single gulp.

Then he finally left for real.

I exhaled and turned toward the others. "Guys, come here!"

Six golems lined up in front of me immediately, including Butter, who stood a little straighter than the rest.

"Carry this beast to the kitchen," I ordered, pointing at the Marrowfin. "Store it in the cold room. Thorne will cook it later."

As they moved to obey, I couldn’t help licking my lips. Later. Definitely later. The Marrowfin would be worth the wait.

When Butter stepped forward to help, I scooped him up instead.

He was no bigger than a stuffed toy. While the others had grown to knee-length over time, Butter never did. He hadn’t grown at all—but he was the smartest of them.

Butter squirmed in my hands. "Want. Carry. Help."

"Relax," I said, smiling. "You can help me make a sandwich, okay?"

Butter seemed to consider that, then nodded solemnly.

We headed toward the kitchen when Kairos spoke behind us.

"Why don’t you cook it yourself instead of waiting for Thorne?"

"Oh, that’s because I’m a terrible cook," I replied easily. "But I’m great at baking!"

"I see..." he said.

’...That was it?’ I blinked, then shrugged it off and continued to the kitchen. I made myself a simple sandwich, ate in silence, and eventually retreated to my room to rest.

Lying on my bed, I scrolled through social media.

Bad idea.

Another article had popped up—about me, of course.

"The infamous mercenary ’Tigris’ has been a no-show for three months! Is she finally losing her popularity?"

I frowned. ’Do these reporters even have lives, or do they survive purely on gossip?’

When I was active, they criticized me for using my ability for money. Now that I wasn’t, they’d found something else to complain about.

I wanted to respond. To tell them I was still active. That I’d been on missions the entire time.

Just not as Tigris of the Talon mercenary but a mercenary of the Nightjars Organization.

The irritation simmered in my chest when a knock interrupted my thoughts.

I stood and opened the door and Butter was there.

He held a plate almost as big as his body. Steam curled up from perfectly cooked slices of Marrowfish, golden at the edges and fragrant enough to erase every bad thought in my head.

In an instant, the article vanished from my mind. My mouth watered seeing that perfectly cooked dish.

My stomach growled again. The sandwich hadn’t filled me—it had only made the hunger worse.

I took the plate from Butter, eyes already glued to the food. "Is Thorne back already? Tell him I said thanks!"

Butter shook his head. "Thorne. Still. Gone."

"...Ghost?" I tried.

"No."

That left only one possibility.

’Kairos?’ No way. He doesn’t cook for other people. The others cook for him.

"Illia."

I looked up.

Kairos was standing in the doorway, arms relaxed at his sides, expression unreadable as ever.

"...Did you cook this?" I asked, lifting the plate of Marrowfish slightly.

"I got hungry," he said plainly. "And since neither Thorne nor Ghost was back yet, I cooked it myself. Turns out I made too much."

He glanced at the plate in my hands. "You can have the rest."

For a moment, I just stared at him—then at the fish—then back at him again.

I let out a breath of relief. So he’d cooked because he was hungry—not because he’d suddenly decided to be generous.

That made it easier to accept.

"Have you eaten already?" I asked.

"I was about to," he replied.

In that case—

I grabbed his hand without thinking and tugged him toward the dining table. "Then let’s eat together!"

Only after the words left my mouth did I realize what I’d done.

...Well. That, and the real reason I’d pulled him along.

If he ate with me, he wouldn’t think I’d devoured all of his cooking by myself.

Totally reasonable.

Absolutely not embarrassing at all.

Meanwhile, outside the hideout...

Thorne and Ghost had been standing there for a while now, arms crossed, patience wearing thin as two massive golems—each nearly as large as the cave entrance itself—blocked their way.

"Hey! Let us in!" Thorne shouted, irritation bleeding into his voice. "Can’t you see who we are?"

"Access. Denied," one of the golems replied flatly.

"Why you—!" Thorne snapped. "I’ll just smash you to pieces and ask Remillia to summon a more obedient one!"

He raised his hand—

"Butter!"

The small golem appeared out of nowhere, hopping into view.

"Thank goodness you’re here!" Thorne immediately dropped to one knee in front of him. "Tell these two numbskulls to let us in already!"

Butter crossed his tiny arms, mimicking authority far larger than his body.

"Boss. No entry. One hour."

"What?!" Thorne gaped. "What is Boss even doing in there anyway?"

Butter paused, eyes unfocused for a second—clearly replaying someone else’s words.

"None of your business."

Silence.

Thorne and Ghost stared at him, utterly dumbfounded.

...Since when did Butter learn that tone?

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

April 13th, 2027

The Gilded Sword guild welcomed a new wave of trainee heroes.

In any other year, Eldoria would have been overflowing with tourists—spring breezes drifting through sunlit streets, visitors crowding the plazas to admire the country’s beauty. The season was perfect.

The timing was not.

Ezekiel sat at his desk and sighed.

He had become the youngest vice-leader in the guild’s history not through ambition, but circumstance. The former vice-leader had been scouted by a powerful guild in Aeonia and left without looking back. The position had landed squarely on Ezekiel’s shoulders before he even had time to protest.

And now, here he was.

Eldoria was struggling. The guild was stretched thin.

He couldn’t even bring himself to blame the one who’d run away. If anything, Ezekiel understood him far too well.

He scrolled through his emails, exhaustion creeping deeper with each line.

Thank you for contacting Supreme Syndicate. We have received your request for aid. However, all military-related negotiations must be conducted through the Global Heroes Alliance...

Another refusal—polite, distant, and utterly useless.

He closed the message and leaned back, rubbing his eyes.

Every request for aid had met the same fate. Some were rejected outright. Others, like this one, simply redirected responsibility elsewhere.

Go through the Global Heroes Alliance.

It was the answer everyone gave.

However, Ezekiel knew exactly what that advice really meant.

The moment the Global Heroes Alliance stepped in, Eldoria would lose more than just autonomy—it would lose leverage. Influence. Control. The same way a Corporation had once maneuvered its way into taking over Velvet Grotto, the GHA would undoubtedly demand a price of its own.

Eldoria couldn’t afford to set its house on fire just to kill a flea.

...Even if that flea had grown monstrously large.

"Charles," Ezekiel called, straightening in his chair. "How many representatives are we scheduled to meet today?"

"Fifteen in total," his personal secretary replied promptly. "Twelve of them are already waiting in the building."

When the number of monsters exploded, the guild decided to partner with mercenary groups. It only made sense as they were separate from GHA’s influence.

"So most of them are here," Ezekiel mumbled.

Of course, as the number of monsters in Eldoria increased, the guild and its Heroes would gain more experience. Then, their guild ranking would naturally go up and they would have more monster corpses to use for research and development.

However, the question was whether Eldoria had the power to overcome the odds.

"Shall I send them in now?" Charles said.

"One at a time," he said.