The Warchief’s Taste
In truth, her relief stemmed from a rather painful memory.
Back when she was a novice sent to the slums, she had failed to pace herself with the beer provided as drinking water, ending up completely intoxicated in broad daylight.
She had staggered around with a face as red as a beet, shrieking hymns like rowdy military chants, and was ultimately locked in a dark underground cell for three days and nights without food. That was a horrific memory.
Because of that bitter experience, even the sour scent of beer still made her backside ache in phantom pain.
'Ahem. It’s not like I’m wagging my tail at this Outer God and considering conversion just because I’m terrified of that solitary confinement. This is merely a noble decision for the survival of the children.'
The young nun comforted her pricking conscience and took a pleasant sip of the non-alcoholic beer.
Crunch, crunch.
From the children to the nuns, everyone ignored the concept of hygiene—not even thinking about their dirty hands—and greedily devoured the Warchief Chicken, their fingers slick with grease.
Bjorn, watching them with a satisfied expression, chuckled as he saw the little dwarf, Logi, down a canned beer in one go.
"Hahaha! A true dwarf should know the taste from the time they’re a mere scrap of flesh to be worthy of the Iron Hammer Clan!"
He was chewing on a large piece of chicken when he suddenly felt a strange sense of unease.
"Hm? Wait a minute."
Bjorn barely managed to keep from spitting out the chicken, chewing slowly instead.
"This meat... there’s no bone?"
Usually, when you fried a bird or a beast, it was only natural to bite into thick bones or small shards. But this massive piece of fried food was composed entirely of a perfect, chewy, hundred-percent meat chunk.
"Hm? Now that you mention it, you’re right. There isn’t a single bone."
The nun also tilted her head, examining the cross-section of the fried piece.
"If there are no bones in this massive chunk of meat, what kind of beast did it come from?"
Bjorn stroked his beard and scrutinized the surface of the paper box.
The nun’s gaze naturally drifted toward the bizarre illustration on the box: a massive, muscular orc making an ecstatic expression while being struck by green lightning.
For a moment, the nun’s pupils shook violently.
"D-don't tell me."
Human meat—no, orc meat—stripped from the bone and deep-fried? A horrific hypothesis that made her want to vomit flooded her mind, but she hurriedly shook her head to clear the ominous thought.
'N-no, that can't be it. If it were orc meat, it would reek of gamey stench, but this is so savory and clean. It must just be a drawing on the packaging.'
She forced herself to calm down and carefully gathered the two unopened chicken boxes and the cold beer cans.
"Now that I think of it, I should take the leftovers to our righteous Saintess and the members of the Martyrdom Faction," the nun said tentatively as she packed her things. "Chief, I’ll take the remaining food and deliver it to the ward over there."
Bjorn, using a makeshift toothpick made from a torn piece of the box to pick meat from his teeth, replied indifferently.
"Well, I didn't buy it, and I didn't pay to make it, so do as you please, Sister. If what you said is true, this Outer God master of yours probably wants you to take that fried meat to that stubborn Saintess anyway."
He grinned and added, "The best way to tame a starving beast is to dangle a smelly bait right in front of its nose and make it suffer. Just like a very cunning fisherman casting a lure."
As the nun stood up with the chicken boxes in her arms, Bjorn sidled up behind her. He lowered his voice so the children nearby couldn't hear and whispered into her ear.
"By the way, Sister. Do you really intend to fully trust this unknown Outer God and offer your soul? To be honest, I’m just bowing and wagging my tail to save the lives of my clan members first... but frankly, I can't say I trust this guy's motives one hundred percent."
The young nun hesitated for a moment at Bjorn’s blatant and realistic probing.
But soon, a smile as cunning and pragmatic as Bjorn’s spread across her lips.
"Heh. Well. I’m the same."
She shrugged lightly and replied, "Whether it’s faith or apostasy, isn't it all just to survive? We’re about to starve to death or be torn apart by monsters tomorrow, so what’s the use of talking about souls all day?"
The young nun continued with ease, shrugging her shoulders.
"Besides, isn't it clearly written in the contract? It says that if we offer treasures as a penalty, conversion is permitted at any time. We’re penniless right now, but once the situation settles, whether we pan for gold or scour the abandoned fortresses of fallen nobles, we can scrape together the gold and silver to pay the penalty and cleanly cut ties... no, I mean, make a profit."
Bjorn laughed heartily at that shrewd answer and nodded. At the moment this strange consensus between two pragmatists was formed, the nun clutched the savory-smelling Warchief Chicken boxes and beer cans to her chest and walked toward the old ward building where Aria was staying.
***
Watching the whole process from my corner of the room beyond the monitor, I rested my chin on my hand and grinned.
'Yeah. Work hard to collect that gold and silver for the penalty. As long as it benefits me, I’ll let you escape later.'
As soon as the nun in the screen entered the ward building, a tense atmosphere descended. The nuns of the Martyrdom Faction, who had been raising their voices about refusing the bread of heresy, began to drool the moment they smelled the chicken, though they still cleared their throats and put up a fight.
"S-such filthy, demonic fried meat is not needed! Take it away at once!"
However, the moment the conversionist nun silently set down the chicken box and turned to leave the ward, the situation reversed in an instant.
As if they hadn't been acting that way at all, the nuns of the Martyrdom Faction and the children glanced at each other before pouncing on the food.
Swish, swish.
With nimble movements, they snatched up pieces of chicken and retreated to their respective corners, greedily chewing and swallowing the boneless meat.
"Haha. I knew it."
I scoffed.
In the face of hunger, neither faith nor ideology mattered.
[Notification: The lambs of the refuge are moved and feel joy at the taste of the mysterious fried meat!]
[The 'Public Order' index of the refuge increases significantly!]
After confirming the satisfying system notification, I shifted my perspective to Aria’s solitary cell at the very back of the ward.
Aria was still lying on the bed in the cell, motionless like a corpse. The children and nuns had taken turns knocking on her door, entering and begging her to eat the chicken and beer that filled the room with their scent, but she had turned her head and stubbornly refused.
In the end, the nuns and children left a warm box of chicken and a can of beer on the small table beside the bed and quietly exited the room.
Aria was left alone in the cell as the door closed. She was still lying facing the wall, but I could see it clearly.
The way her small, sharp nose twitched and sniffed at the destructive scent of the fried food—that pathetic struggle.
"You’d better eat it before it gets cold," I giggled toward the monitor.
"How long do you think you can hold out against hunger with just willpower and grit? No matter how much you resist, it’s only a battle against time."
Having confirmed that the Saintess Corruption Project was proceeding smoothly, I rolled my stiff neck and stood up from my chair.
The state of my room was a disaster. From the entrance to around my desk, piles of all sorts of packaging waste were stacked high.
It was because I had been too busy sending items to Eden as soon as I unpacked the deliveries from the mart and hardware store to clean up.
"Sigh... I really need to clean up this trash."
It was just as I was bending down to find a trash bag.
Buzz- buzz- buzz-
The smartphone on my desk vibrated heavily. The moment I checked the sender on the screen, the smile vanished from my face.
It was an electronic document notification from the court. With trembling hands, I entered the password and opened the document.
[Trial Date Notification: Your trial date has been set for one week from today at 10:00 AM.]
One week. The date for the trial that would decide the fate of my false accusation had finally been set.
If I had received this notification even a little while ago, I might have fallen into extreme fear and helplessness, wrapped myself in my blanket, and sobbed. I didn't have enough money to hire a good lawyer instead of a public defender, and I lacked clear evidence to prove my innocence.
But I was different now.
"Who am I, you ask? I’m the man who earned 30 million won in a single night with a few clicks from his room!"
I gripped my smartphone tightly and let out a confident roar toward the empty air.
The overwhelming capitalist figure of 30 million won displayed on my banking app was holding my spine and shoulders straight.
"I won't just take it anymore. I will protect my money and my house deed with my own hands, no matter what!"
Filled with confidence, I was about to immerse myself in trial preparations when my gaze drifted back to the monitor screen.
The [Divine Power Point] gauge was still shining, firmly locked behind a padlock.
And Aria, who had been lying there blankly, was finally unable to overcome her instincts; her trembling hand was slowly reaching out, moving toward the Warchief Chicken box on the table.