Liam adjusted the floating camera eye. After a few more clumsy bumps that showcased his knuckles and a close-up of a wooden ceiling beam, he finally managed to centre the frame.
[System: Stream Initialising...]
[Title: "Looting my way to a Spice Rack"]
[Current Viewers: 102]
The viewer count was steady now. It wasn't the millions he'd eventually need, but the "Guild Chat" in Hestia's Hearth was buzzing. Every mid-tier guild within five miles was watching the silver-haired guy in the singlet and the pink-tailed girl in the white dress step out of the townhouse.
"Liam, turn it off," Ellie hissed, walking three paces behind him to try and stay out of the frame. It didn't work; the camera eye seemed magnetically attracted to her flustered expression. "People are literally calling us a 'power couple' in the local chat! We aren't a couple! We're rivals who happened to survive a glitch!"
Liam didn't even look back. His inner brain was a tactical spreadsheet, currently calculating the drop rates of the area. If I can find a party of PKers, he thought, I can harvest their high-grade iron. Iron conducts heat better for the toad-reduction sauce. Also, their gold. I need saffron.
"We're not a couple," Liam rumbled for the stream, his voice a low, nonchalant baritone. "We're a specialised unit. She handles the crowd control. I handle the logistics and the seasoning."
[ShieldBasher]: LOGISTICS? Bro, you're literally wearing a singlet and carrying a sword.
[SimpKing99]: SHE'S SO MAD. LOOK AT THE TAIL. IT'S FLUFFY.
[Guild_Recruiter_6]: Ignore the girl, look at his movement. His centre of gravity hasn't shifted once. He's high-level.
As they rounded the corner into the Merchant's Row, a group of five men blocked the path. They were wearing mismatched leather armour and holding rusted swords—the universal sign of "Players who haven't figured out how to grind yet."
"Hey! Chef-guy!" the leader shouted, his face twisted in a jealous sneer. "You think you're special? Dragging a girl like that into a private house while the rest of us are sleeping in the dirt?"
Ellie's ears flattened. "We were looking for a kitchen! It's not what it looks like!"
Liam didn't even stop walking. He didn't reach for his daggers. He just looked at the leader's boots. Good leather. Might be useful for a smoker-box seal.
"You're blocking the light," Liam said. "The viewers can't see the texture of the cobblestones."
"You think this is a joke?" The leader lunged.
Liam moved like a blur. He didn't even use a skill. He just stepped inside the man's guard, grabbed his wrist, and twisted. A sickening pop echoed through the alley. Before the man could scream, Liam's knee connected with his stomach, folding him like a cheap lawn chair.
The other four are charged.
"Liam, watch out!" Ellie shrieked, but her hands were already moving, her taming whip cracking in the air to trip the nearest attacker.
Liam was a whirlwind of "Efficient Violence." He wasn't fighting for honour; he was fighting for inventory space. Every time a player hit the ground, Liam's hands were already moving.
[Item Acquired: 45 Gold Pieces]
[Item Acquired: Worn Leather Boots (Recycled)]
[Item Acquired: Half-Eaten Apple]
"You're looting them?!" Ellie yelled, watching in horror as Liam stripped a pair of bracers off a man who was still groaning in the dirt. "They're still alive, Liam! This is... this is unethical!"
"They're New Adventurers," Liam said, tossing the gold into his pouch and checking the durability of a looted dagger. "In this game, if you lose, you pay the tax. Besides, this guy has a high-quality salt pouch. Do you know how hard it is to find sea salt in the starting zone?"
He looked directly into the camera eye. "Lesson two: Survival is 10% combat and 90% finding out who has the best pantry."
[BobaLady]: OMG HE'S A LOOT GOBLIN.
[StoneArrow]: He's literally stealing their lunch. I love him.
[Chief_Vahn]: Wait, is that a guild leader from the 'Simp Army'?
[PeePeePooPoo]: RIP, L LOST HIS PANTS AND HIS DIGNITY.
Liam stood up, his silver hair not even ruffled. He looked at the pile of defeated players. To Ellie, it was a tragedy. To Liam, it was a grocery run.
"There's a Guild Captain watching," Liam muttered, his inner brain yapping about the potential of a "Hearth Level 3" kitchen. "We need to look more professional, Ellie. Stop looking at the bodies and start looking for a guild with a walk-in freezer."
"I am NOT looking for a freezer!" Ellie protested, her face red as she followed him, her white dress fluttering in the wind. "I am looking for a way out of this game!"
"The way out is through the Tier 10 bosses, maybe" Liam said, his voice dropping into a chill, terrifyingly calm tone. "And I'm not fighting a Tier 10 boss on an empty stomach."
He paused, his eyes narrowing as he saw a massive, gilded building at the end of the street. It was the Iron Hearth Guildhall.
"There," Liam said. "That guild has a 'Foodie' leader. If we play this right, we'll have a professional stove by sunset."
He glanced at the stream. 150 viewers.
"Stay tuned," Liam rumbled. "I'm about to show you how to negotiate with a guild leader using nothing but a bowl of leftover soup."
[Stream Status: LIVE]
Viewers: 152
Current Loot: 120 Gold, 2 Salt Pouches, 1 Pair of Boots (For parts).
Ellie's Mood: 100% Morally Conflicted / 50% Impressed.
Liam's Thought:If the Guild Leader doesn't like the soup, I'll loot his cape.
"Liam, turn that eye off!" Ellie hissed, walking three paces behind him to try and stay out of the frame. She was clutching her taming kit like a shield, her white linen dress fluttering. "People in the [Local Chat] are already calling us 'The Chef and his Cat.' We aren't a duo! We're academic competitors who are currently suffering from a severe case of kidnapping via game physics!
Liam didn't even look back. His eyes were scanning the street, not for enemies, but for assets. "We're a specialised unit, Ellie. You handle the crowd control and the beast affinity. I handle the frontline and the caloric intake. It's basic resource management."
"Resource management?!" Ellie's tail poofed out, a cloud of pink fur that the chat immediately noticed. "You're live-streaming our survival! And you're still wearing that singlet! Put your armour on, you look like a... a barbarian!"
"The iron chest plate is for combat, not for walking," Liam rumbled, his voice a low, nonchalant baritone. "The weight-to-encumbrance ratio would drain my hunger bar by 5% over this distance. Efficiency first, vanity second."
[ShieldBasher]: Efficiency? Bro is just flexin'.
[CatLover4Life]: Look at her tail. She's at 100% Stress. 10/10 content.
[DeezNutz]: Wait, is he heading for Iron Hearth? They don't take new adventurers. They're an elite guard faction.
The Iron Hearth Guildhall was a massive, gilded structure, but as they got closer, the "glamour" started to peel. The two women standing guard at the door were draped in polished silver-and-gold plate, but their postures were slumped. One was leaning heavily on her spear, and the other was mid-yawn, her eyes bloodshot.
It was Day 2. The adrenaline of being "stuck" was wearing off, replaced by the crushing reality that they hadn't had a proper meal or a bed that didn't feel like a rock.
"Halt," the lead guard said, her voice cracking slightly. She tried to look fierce, but her plumed helmet was sitting slightly crooked. "The Iron Hearth... uh... we don't take tourists. If you're here to join, come back when the servers aren't broken."
"I'm not a tourist," Liam said, his voice a low, soothing hum. "I have forty pounds of toad meat that needs a Level 3 Hearth. I also have a Golem's core in my stomach. I'm here to optimise your guild's raiding efficiency by 25% through high-tier nutritional buffs."
The guards shared a look. The smaller one, a rogue whose leather armour was covered in dust, sniffed the air. "Is that... rosemary? I haven't smelled anything but damp cave moss and unwashed New Adventurers for thirty-six hours."
"It's a reduction," Liam noted. "If you turn me away, you go back to eating dry rations and raw berries. If you let me in, your Vanguards get a 'Satiety' buff that doubles their stamina regen."
The lead guard, Sarah, rubbed her face with a gauntleted hand, leaving a smear of dirt on her cheek. "Look, the Captain is in a mood. She's been trying to figure out the 'Goblin Raid' for six hours, and she's so hungry she tried to eat a decorative grape prop earlier. If you're lying, she'll kill you."
"I don't lie about food," Liam said. "It's inefficient."
Sarah sighed, waving them through. "Fine. Follow me. But stay in the middle of the hall. If you touch the tapestries, the Mages will hex you."
Inside, the hall was filled with players—mostly women, as this was a Valkyrie-style guild—but they didn't look like legendary warriors. They looked like college students during finals week. Some were passed out on benches; others were staring blankly at the walls.
In the centre, sitting at a long oak table, was the Captain. She had a massive golden cape, but it was currently wrapped around her like a bathrobe. She was staring at a bowl of grey, unidentifiable mush, her expression pure, unadulterated hatred.
"Captain," Sarah said, saluting half-heartedly. "A new adventurer claims he can fix the... mush issue."
The Captain looked up. She looked like she wanted to cry or stab someone. Her eyes landed on Liam's singlet. Then the wolf's ears.
"You have five minutes," she said, her voice hoarse. "And if this is a prank, I'm looting your boots. I'm so hungry I can see the code."