POV : BONE APPETIT

  At a separate table, Marnie and Derek were deep in conversation with Tamara and her adventurers, pitching their latest proposal. Marnie leaned forward, a confident smile on his face. “Tamara, what do you think? Do you want to work for us? We’re the ones who supplied all the slimes for this restaurant, you know.”

  Tamara tilted her head, intrigued. “That’s interesting. What kind of work are we talking about?”

  Marnie hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Well… your main job would be guarding something.”

  Tamara raised a brow, her expression sharpening. “Guarding something? Care to elaborate?”

  Marnie avoided her gaze, his tone evasive. “Yes, we’ll explain everything in detail later. It’s not dangerous, I promise. We just have a… specific area in the wasteland where we’ve discovered a large collection of slimes, and we don’t want other adventurers poaching them from us.”

  “Oh, so you’d want us to run roving patrols?” Tamara asked.

  ‘Not roving at all,’ Marnie thought grimly. They’d basically be standing watch at the mouth of their cave. But he plastered on a smile and nodded. “Exactly. Roving patrols.”

  Derek opened his mouth to object. “But that’s not—”

  “Derek, be quiet,” Marnie snapped, shooting him a sharp look.

  Peter, sitting nearby, caught the exchange. He narrowed his eyes. ‘This seems shady,” he thought, picking at his meal.

  Marnie ignored the doubtful stares, brushing past their questions. He made it clear they’d need to sign a system-enforced NDA before getting any further details. Still, his confidence remained unshaken as he outlined the pay and terms. Dressed in a sleek new suit, he radiated self-assurance, while Derek looked more preoccupied devouring his plate of slimes.

  ‘The best part of all this?’ Marnie thought smugly. ‘I’m my own boss.’

  As the group continued eating—courtesy of Isabella’s generous meal comp—Marnie allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. ‘This is the life,’ he mused. ‘The wasteland isn’t so bad. Why does everyone act like it’s miserable?’

  ‘‘‘

  Atlas knew Isabella had been incredibly busy, so he waited until the first mealtime rush was over.

  When the night finally settled, he stepped into the kitchen to celebrate with her. Isabella stood there, grinning, a glow of pride radiating from her. She had done it.

  She’d achieved her dream of becoming an executive chef—and not just anywhere, but in the wasteland. Here, she was a marvel, a celebrity. Not on Earth, where she would have been working for someone else.

  “Great job, Isabella,” Atlas said warmly.

  Isabella smiled, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow. “This is not what I planned when I signed up to be a fighter for your SFB team,” she said with a laugh.

  Atlas chuckled. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying. The wasteland sure feels different this time around.”

  “Thanks to your butterfly effect,” Isabella replied, a sparkle in her eyes. “Isn’t it crazy how people are actually enjoying their lives now? It’s not some Mad Max-style free-for-all with raiders and cannibals anymore.”

  Atlas nodded. “Well, I’m sure there are still some of those assholes out there. We haven’t gotten rid of them all yet. But at least in our little pocket of the wasteland, our empire is thriving, and our citizens are happy.”

  “Cheers to that,” Isabella said, raising a glass.

  They clinked glasses, and Atlas leaned back, curious. “Where do you get all these slimes, anyway?”

  Isabella shrugged. “I was surprised too. There are these two adventurers who’ve been doing a great job supplying them. I think they’re hunting them in some part of the forest. But we never see any slimes near where we usually go. Alexander hasn’t reported many, either. Still, these two manage to bring in a reliable haul every time.”

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  Atlas frowned slightly. ‘That is strange. We’ve got the dungeon controlling all the slime production, and it’s not supposed to churn out that many of each creature.’ The thought lingered between them, unspoken but heavy.

  “Well, as long as they keep delivering, I don’t really care,” Isabella said, brushing it off with a wave of her hand.

  Atlas wasn’t so quick to let it go. ‘Are they overproducing? Or are these adventurers just unusually efficient?’ He glanced toward the dining area. “Are those guys still here?”

  Isabella followed his gaze. “Yeah, they’re at the table in the corner with their friends.”

  “Well, again, congratulations, Isabella,” Atlas said, pulling her into a warm hug. “I’m going to go have a chat with them. But keep it up. Enjoy your success.”

  Isabella returned the hug, sweat and all. ‘Today was a good day.’

  She continued tidying up her kitchen, the second time she’d done so today. Before the restaurant had opened, an achievement notification had popped up in her vision:

  ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED:

  TITLE: SKY-HIGH DINING

  Congrats! You opened the tallest restaurant in the Wasteland. Now we’ll all have nosebleeds while eating. Hope the food’s worth it!

  BONUS: Free parachutes. You’re gonna need them at your altitude.

  Before she had processed the notification, a massive mound of mana-powered parachutes, all emblazoned with the Bone Appetit logo, had appeared out of nowhere, spilling across her pristine kitchen.

  She remembered scowling at the heap. ‘Sure, they’ll probably come in handy someday. Annoying though.’ They were clutter, messing up her meticulously organized space.

  —

  POV : CELESTIAL WAGER

  In the Celestial Wager, the air buzzed with excitement as Zeltrax, Gorvax, Lurox, and the other aliens delighted in their versions of the Bone Appetit menu. Blontik, ever the opportunist, had made sure to announce the free meals well in advance. He stood at the heart of the casino, his greasy lips curling into a smug smile as he looked out over the throngs of eager guests.

  "Nothing like offering free food to suckers to bring them in droves," Blontik muttered under his breath, wiping a sheen of sweat from his oversized forehead. It wasn’t just a meal; it was a theme party, a celebration of the show and its contestants. Gamblers and fans alike packed the place, drawn in by the promise of both culinary delights and the thrill of their favorite characters.

  From across the galaxy, they had flown in on sleek, shining ships, eager to partake in this themed extravaganza. Some even wore fake bone armor in honor of the contestants, their faces lit up with a mix of anticipation and amusement. They knew the menu wasn’t exactly the same as what their idols enjoyed in the wasteland, but the illusion was enough to make them feel part of the experience.

  Across the room, a group of fans decked out in fake bone armor were loading up their plates. One of them, a lanky creature with a slithering tail, nudged his friend. “Dude, this slime stew? So legit! I feel like Atlas is about to crash through the ceiling any minute now.”

  His friend, chewing loudly, nodded. “Yeah, and if we win some mana coins, the whole day pays for itself!”

  ‘‘‘

  Zeltrax chuckled softly, watching the crowd from his VIP seat, his three green eyes reflecting the chaos. He thrived in moments like these—the intersection of greed, fandom, and spectacle.

  ‘Nothing beats the Celestial Wager’s atmosphere.‘

  ‘‘‘

  POV : AMERICA UNITED

  Jed Lawson sat in his usual spot, a dark corner of the America United saloon, nursing a glass of whiskey and glaring at the reports laid out before him. Fort Bone had become too busy for his liking. He had already issued a ban against Fort Bone citizens in his territory, but to his disappointment, it had the reverse effect.

  His own people were defecting, giving up their citizenship in America United to be part of Atlas’ Fort Bone Empire. They craved the security, the lure of Bone Appetit, and the fact that the Portal Crushers—Atlas and his crew—had practically become celebrities. It was maddening.

  ‘Who the hell gives up everything just to eat in some fancy restaurant?‘ Jed thought, taking a long drink. He didn’t realize that it wasn’t just the food, though. It was the security, the excitement, the stories of Fort Bone being the one place where people could thrive instead of just survive. And now, with Olivia’s relentless propaganda, it seemed like everyone was jumping on the Fort Bone bandwagon.

  The third showing of the play—‘The Skeletal Horde’s Defeat‘—was drawing crowds from all across the Wasteland. People were teleporting in just to watch it, and the reviews were glowing. Citizens of America United were no exception, sneaking off to catch a glimpse of the heroic Portal Crushers battling their enemies, their names chanted like war cries.

  For one mana coin, it was worth it to see the epic battle unfold on stage. It was more than just entertainment—it was a chance to feel like they were a part of something bigger. The play had become legendary, painting Atlas and his team not only as warriors but as symbols of hope. People weren't just hearing about the Fort Bone Empire anymore; they were living it, if only for a few hours through Olivia’s theatrics.

  Jed slammed his glass down, the sound echoing through the bar. He hadn’t put in the effort to launch a propaganda campaign like Olivia had. He’d been too busy playing poker, drinking whiskey, and keeping his version of order in America United. Now, it was clear he had made a mistake. The pull of Fort Bone was stronger than ever, and even the ban he’d issued against Fort Bone citizens in his territory had backfired. Instead of staying put, his people were defecting, giving up their allegiance to him for a chance at a better life under Atlas’ rule.

  As he sat there, watching the last few drops of whiskey swirl in his glass, his thoughts turned dark. Jed Lawson wasn’t a man to take this kind of loss lightly. If he didn’t act soon, America United would crumble from within, leaving him with nothing but a ghost town.