Dungeon? This Tree? Why Don't You Join Me for Lunch? (Dungeon Core)
Chapter 38: Potatoes in heaven

Chapter 38: Chapter 38: Potatoes in heaven

"Why did you keep these?" Nathaniel asked, as he pointed at the washed and drying potato peels.

"Well, we throw too much food away!" I did not want to give away the surprise. I have already prepared the best flour for these bad boys! And... I still had the oil from yesterday’s meatballs!

Oh, the soldiers were going to finally come over! Heck, they were going to ask for seconds!

"Look," I told Nathaniel, as I looked into the direction where Desmond had stormed off to. "I didn’t mean it like that. I never knew what the Boliari are."

He sighed.

"Don’t speak of us like that, Sylvan. You make us seem like monsters. But we aren’t. Mobs aren’t monsters. They are just dungeons made. But that doesn’t mean that we are not created by a higher power," he took out a pendant from around his neck. I could see the sign of Harika on it. "Even the damned have to believe in something."

"True, that," Aron said, as he took out his own pendant of Harika. "But that is not the important part right now. Bunny-bun has insulted the strongest of the three of you."

I blinked. Desmond was the... strongest?

"And might insult him again with his disbelief," Aron continued, as he looked my way. "But that’s beside the point."

He pointed at the pot.

"Your potatoes are going to overcook, bunny-bun," he told me.

I started to blink rapidly! What? In all my years, I had never, ever, overcooked potatoes!

"Man, this is a right mess," and it spoke volumes that it took almost doing something as simple as boiling potatoes wrong for me to figure that one out.

"Ok," I said, as I took the pot off the fire. Now, the next couple of steps were critical. I couldn’t screw them up! If I did, then no one was going to be eating tonight!

"Time to duel!" I couldn’t help myself. Perhaps it was childish of me, but I still wanted to do this. I still wanted to give these soldiers the best meals they had ever eaten.

Because Solas was leading them to their deaths. And I, as much as I hated to admit it, was not going to stop it. No, I was even planning how they would risk their lives the best.

And I hated myself for that.

My old mantra tried to play out in my head, but I stopped it.

No, I was like that. There was no difference between me and Solas. We were both monsters who could be kind when the occasion demanded it.

I had to make peace with that.

So, I took my frustration out on the potatoes. Which was the wrong thing to do because in some countries, cough, Necromantic Union, cough, grating could be seen as a form of torture.

The soldiers had no way of knowing if I was born in these lands or not. And my grating technique was the stuff of legends... if you were a Dark Lord trying to be poetic.

When I finally got the potatoes ready, I took the grated cheese, which Aron had been kind enough to grate for me, and then mixed it in with the cream and potatoes.

As I took a wooden spoon and scooped up some of the cheesy goodness, I looked the soldiers in the eyes.

"Come on! While it’s still warm!" I yelled, unknowingly making my best witch in the woods impression.

They all scooted back. Some even prepared their mana for a fight.

"Oh, I want some of that!" Nathaniel said, taking an empty bowl from the pot where I kept those. "Man, it smells divine!"

It was actually quite plain.

I blinked.

Wait! I forgot to fry the potato peels! And if I fried them now, they won’t be done while the potatoes are still gooey!

"Man, so tasty," Nathaniel was spooning the stuff in his mouth so, as if he had never eaten before. "And the peels are for the chicken, right?"

I blinked. What chicken?

"Uhm..." I began, for I did not understand what he meant.

"Yeah! The chicken you are going to summon in your dungeon! Don’t worry, I will sacrifice some zombies to get them here. I mean, I’d kill for some boiled eggs," which may or may not be because they reminded him of eyeballs.

I took a deep breath. I was a dungeon. A nymph.

My job was to feed the hungry. Oh, sure, the gnomes and the humans were already making gardens, but it was winter. Nothing was going to grow unless I used mana.

And it just so happened that I had mana. And plenty of it, besides.

"Edda, dear, what can I do at my current level? I still have the class of farmer, right?" Because, if I had lost that, I don’t know what I’d do.

"Well," Edda wrote. I could see the three dotes, which promised nothing good. Systems shouldn’t wait so long to generate quests and texts!

I was about to demand a refund from the World System, when Edda finally got me a text message:

"Sylvan! You wish to create your first mob! Congratulations on finally taking your existence into your own hands!"

I knew it was meant as an insult, but she was right, so I did not regard it as such.

"Here are the mobs you can create:

Colorful Egg Specter

Panda

Boliarin

Lich

Healing Mushroom...

Dungeon Core Pan shares a schema...

Healing Mushroom 20%!

What would you like to create?"

I blinked. I could create a Boliarin? Was that a joke?

"Aron," if there was one person who could shine a light on it all, then he. "My System tells me I can create either a Lich or a Boliarin. Care to explain?"

He shrugged so, as if he was not in trouble. And then I knew... I was.

"Well, yes, bunny-bun. Seeing as you are a caveman who shoves his mana in me every chance he gets, we bonded, and... has anyone told you about the birds and the bees?"

I bit my bottom lip, scooping up from the potato mush and placing it in Aron’s hands.

"You need to eat, honey," I told him.

Misunderstanding what he meant like the drake I was...