He didn't move. He watched Saffron take a hit to the shoulder, sending her skidding across the sand. He watched Noir's mana shield shatter like glass. The math had changed. They had chosen a formation based on pride, and now they were paying the bill.
"Liam..." Ellie whispered, lost in the chaos. She looked at the broken line, then back at him, squeezing his hand.
Liam looked at his [Stamina: 300 / 800]. He looked at the [Gourmet's Touch] icon, flickering with a hungry, red light.
He didn't run to save the guild. He stood in the dust, Ellie at his side, watching the Iron Hearth guild break. He waited for the moment when the "warriors" realised that pride didn't put food on the table.
Only a Chef did.
A moment earlier, all eyes were glued to the bloodied sand. Now, with brutal clarity, attention shifted to the so-called "Standard Formation"—a masterpiece in theory, a disaster in practice. Saffron's orders cracked with the authority of someone who had spent Beta phase perfecting spreadsheets, but the Ogre General wasn't a spreadsheet. It was a five-ton mountain of malice.
"Don't let the scent fool you!" yelled Kaelie, a Level 13 Mage, staff glowing frantic blue. She was among those who'd mocked Liam's "luck." "Liam just has some high-tier pheromone passive. It tricks the cat-brains! We're Beta testers! We don't need a glitchy cook!"
"Exactly!" another Mage chimed in, sneering toward the spot where Liam and Ellie stood in the dust. "He's a fluke, and that pink-eared tag-along is just baggage. Watch how a real guild handles a Mutant!
The Mages began to chant in unison, a synchronised
[Frost-Nova].
But the Ogre General didn't care about their chants or plans. Abruptly, in a brutal shift from chanting to chaos, it swung its mace in a massive, horizontal overhead arc. The sonic boom from the impact hit the mages first, bursting eardrums before the stone even reached them.
Twenty mages, the entire backline support of the Iron Hearth, were simply deleted. Their physical forms couldn't even process the damage before they were turned into a cloud of red pixels. The "Beta experts" died with the same expressions of shock they'd had in the simulation—only this time, there was no respawn button.
"The backline!" Johan roared, his massive rabbit ears twitching at the sound of slaughter. "Saffron, the mages are gone! We have no cover!"
Elsewhere in the fray, Noir stood paralysed, her cheetah tail tucked. Suddenly, Ducky, a Lion-kin Assassin with a golden mane, blurred from the chaos. She hadn't targeted the Ogre; instead, she skidded to a halt before Liam and Ellie, her eyes burning with spite.
"Pathetic," Ducky spat, launching saliva onto Ellie's boots. She regarded Ellie with disdain; all she saw was a girl standing by a man who looked carved from moonlight and carried an overwhelming presence. "You think you're special for finding a guy like him? You're just a leech. That's why we lost focus."
Ellie didn't shriek. She stared at the spot where Ducky had just been, her breath hitching as she watched her boots—now stained with spit—tremble. She was genuinely upset. She had wanted to make friends here, but all she had received was vitriol from people who thought they were "elite."
The Ogre General's hand came down like a falling building. Ducky didn't even have time to scream. The "Elite" was swatted into the ridge wall with such force that the stone cracked. She slumped to the ground, her HP bar flickering in the dark, flashing red of the [Near-Death] state.
Saffron tried to intervene, throwing herself into a [Shield Bash], but the Ogre backhanded her. The blow caught the Guild Master mid-air, snapping her Rare Greatsword and sending her hurtling forty feet. She hit the ground and didn't move.
[Status: Unconscious/Critical].
"Saffron!" Johan yelled. He broke ranks, his massive legs pumping as he raced to stand over Saffron's body, locking his shield into the earth to protect her.
As the dust settled, Liam stood in the centre of the slaughter. While the sounds of panic faded behind him, he reached into his storage and pulled out three wooden bowls.
"Ellie. Drink."
Ellie shook, her hand tight on Liam's wrist. Up close, his pheromones were intoxicating—a mix of musky woodsmoke and raw, masculine heat that made her head swim. "Liam... why were they so mean?"
"Drink it." Liam's voice dropped into a register that broke no argument.
Ellie took the bowl and downed the [Chicken Soup]. The warmth hit her chest, and suddenly, the terrifying pressure of the Ogre's aura vanished. Liam then turned, his arm blurring as he launched the second bowl toward Johan.
"Johan! Drink!"
Johan didn't hesitate. He caught the bowl and downed the liquid in one snap.
[Item Consumed: Chicken Soup (Perfect Grade)]
[User Effect: +500% Melee Resistance for 12 hours]
The change was instantaneous. The Hobgoblins hacking at Johan's armour suddenly felt like children hitting him with pillows. Their blades clattered off his skin. Johan's rabbit ears stood straight up, twitching in shock as his HP bar stabilised.
"Go to Johan, Ellie," Liam said. He didn't look at her, but his voice was like iron. "Stay behind the shield. Don't look at what comes next."
"Liam?" she whispered. Even amid the bloodbath, she couldn't help but notice the way the light hit his silver hair and the overwhelming presence he radiated. He looked like a god of war masquerading as a chef.
He didn't answer. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his own bowl. The warmth of the broth hit his chest. The "raw, uncalibrated" feeling of his Level 18 stats finally smoothed out. He swallowed the last bite and let the bowl drop. It shattered on the ground, the sound lost under the Ogre's roar.
"The salt was just right," Liam rumbled. The scent coming off him suddenly ignited, turning from a fragrance into a stifling, predatory aura.
The Ogre General, Grogthe, was a Level 20 Mutant, a creature designed to be a wall that no Day 2 player could climb. But as Liam stood over it, the monster felt a primal, glitching terror in its code. This human didn't smell like fear; he smelled like a kitchen fire, a scent so heavy with raw, masculine dominance that even the Ogre's necrotic brain flickered with the urge to kneel.