I plastered myself against the dining room wall like a ninja with social anxiety, wolfing down my cooking while the Winters family demolished course after course of dim sum. The rich aromas of soy, sesame, and butter still hung thick in the air—a culinary symphony I'd orchestrated but couldn't properly enjoy because Elizabeth Aldertree kept eye-fucking me from across the table.

  And not in a fun way.

  Erik, Cass's younger brother, who looked like a forty-year-old Viking, had face-planted into his empty plate in a food coma so deep it probably required medical intervention. Henrik, the teenage terror that could turn invisible, was scraping his bowl with the determination of someone panning for gold, hunting every grain of fried rice like they contained the secrets of the universe.

  The pièce de résistance was about to debut, and I should've felt smug with the result. Instead, Elizabeth Aldertree, the bronze-skinned Victoria’s Secret supermodel—kept shooting me looks that made me want to crawl into my soul-space and hide behind Ted.

  The actual nightmare? She and Katie were best friends. Along with Cass. Which meant if shutting her down went sideways, I'd be navigating a friendship minefield while probably getting murdered by all three of them.

  The Sentarian servers glided in with my masterpiece: crab cheung fun. Delicate rice noodle rolls stuffed with spiced Carapax meat, swimming in butter sauce that caught the lamplight like liquid gold.

  Here's the thing about Ark—nobody ate crab. They treated it like I'd suggested deep-frying cockroaches. "It's basically an insect," they'd say, faces scrunched in disgust. Meanwhile, merchants literally paid me to haul away entire monster crabs because nobody else would touch them.

  Their loss. My delicious gain.

  I emerged from my hiding spot to place the clay pot in front of Kerrin—the only spot with room left after Hurricane Henrik had demolished the table.

  "Golden Cloud Rice Rolls," I announced with probably too much pride. "My signature dish."

  Kerrin’s cat-like eyes dilated so fast I thought he was having a stroke. His normally composed Sentarian features twitched, mandibles clicking in a way I'd never seen before.

  "What divine providence has blessed this humble table?" His melodic voice cracked slightly. "The aroma reminds one of Carapax, yet somehow... transcendent."

  One of my Sentarian sous chefs pressed his palms together, clearly pleased. "Amituofo, Kerrin. Your perception is most keen."

  "Wait, that's fucking Carapax?" Cass's face twisted in horror. "Who the hell eats bug monsters?"

  "Crustacean," Kerrin corrected absently, but something was definitely wrong. His mandibles were doing this weird anticipatory dance, like a kid seeing Christmas presents. “And I can feel a trace of mana in the meat…”

  He lifted a single roll with surgical precision, studied it for one heartbeat, then slid it into his mouth.

  Time stopped.

  Kerrin's entire body went rigid. His left eye twitched. Once. Twice.

  Then he moved.

  Not fast—that word didn't do justice to what happened. One moment he was frozen; the next he was demolishing those rolls like someone had threatened his family. His chopsticks blurred, each piece disappearing into his mouth with mechanical efficiency.

  Elizabeth reached for a roll.

  CRACK.

  Kerrin's chopsticks intercepted hers mid-strike with enough force to create a small shockwave of air.

  "Amituofo," he said serenely, never breaking his eating rhythm. "This humble butler suggests you reconsider."

  Then, he flicked his wrist and launched Elizabeth backward out of her chair. She hit the floor with a very undignified squawk.

  "What the actual fuck, Kerrin?!" she sputtered from the ground, sea-foam hair splayed everywhere.

  The Sentarian butler continued his methodical destruction of my dish, completely unbothered by the Floran picking herself up off the floor or the fact that everyone was now staring at him.

  Astrid rose from her seat with the fluid grace of someone who'd killed people for less.

  "Kerrin," she said, voice carrying enough threat to make armies reconsider their life choices. "Share."

  The butler flowed out of his chair like water, cradling the precious pot against his chest. He glided and landed in a perfect crouch three meters away, somehow still eating.

  "With utmost respect, Lady Winters," he said between bites, "no."

  Oh fuck. Not again.

  First, the Vildar had gone feral over brownies. Now, the Zen-master Sentarians were losing their minds over seafood. Was there something in my cooking that triggered primal food aggression in Ark's species?

  Red fire exploded around Astrid's form, her tattoos blazing to life as she moved. One moment she was standing; the next she was striking, chopsticks extended like twin spears aimed directly at the pot.

  Kerrin glided backwards at an impossible angle, the pot never leaving his grip, never spilling a drop. His foot found the wall behind him and he pushed off, executing a perfect backflip that carried him over Astrid's head. He landed silently, still eating.

  My Valor-enhanced perception could barely track them. They weren't fighting—they were having a high-speed negotiation where chopsticks were lawyers and the pot was a divorce settlement.

  Astrid's next strike came from three angles simultaneously—some kind of technique that made her arms blur into multiplicity. Kerrin responded by flickering out of sight, reforming just outside her range with the bowl held high.

  "You're really going to make me work for this?" Astrid's grin was pure predator.

  "This one apologizes for any inconvenience," Kerrin replied, popping another roll into his mouth.

  The dining room exploded into motion.

  Astrid's aura went supernova, her power signature spiking so hard my teeth ached. She vanished—literally ceased existing in one spot and materialized in another. Her chopsticks descended like divine judgment.

  Kerrin sidestepped with exacting precision. The attack missed by a hair's breadth, but the shockwave from its passage obliterated everything on the table. Dishes, cups, and cutlery launched themselves into the air like someone had set off a grenade made of dinnerware.

  With ceremonial precision, Kerrin placed the now-empty bowl on the table and bowed deeply, hands pressed to his navel.

  "Thank you for this enlightening sparring session, Mistress Winters."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Astrid's chopsticks hovered a millimeter from his chest. She sighed, her aura guttering out like someone had thrown water on a bonfire.

  "I should've just gone all-out from the start," she muttered.

  "Indeed," Kerrin agreed, still bowing. Then he turned to me. "Revered One, Arryava Pusa would find this dish most agreeable. Perhaps you might prepare it when next you meet?"

  The other Sentarian servers exchanged looks that clearly communicated, "our boss just went full crackhead for crab rolls and we're pretending this is normal."

  "I lost, so I'll clean," Astrid announced, already gathering scattered dishes with the resigned air of someone who'd been outmaneuvered by their own butler.

  "Was it really that good?" Erik asked from his food coma position, having somehow slept through Armageddon.

  Kerrin's mandibles spread in what I could only describe as bliss. "Transcendent."

  "What the fuck just happened?" I asked the room at large.

  Nobody answered. They were all too busy staring at the destruction.

  Forty-five minutes and seventeen thousand dirty dishes later, I collapsed onto my bed like someone had removed my skeleton. My upgraded room—complete with weird Sentarian beanbag chairs that looked like something from a 1970s furniture catalog—spun gently around me. I was exhausted.

  Astrid had conveniently vanished the moment cleanup started, leaving me with enough dishware to stock a small restaurant. My hands were going to smell like soap until I died.

  Was everyone on Ark completely fucking insane? The Vildar would commit war crimes for decent pastries. The Sentarians apparently turned into kung-fu crack addicts over seafood. What next? Would the Florans go berserk over salad?

  Valor's awareness field—which was getting creepily good at feeding me details—picked up Elizabeth approaching my door. She was carrying a bottle, a box, and... smoothing down her dress?

  Oh, hell no.

  I shot upright, goosebumps racing across my skin as if someone had dumped ice water down my back. I absolutely could not deal with whatever romantic comedy nightmare Elizabeth had scripted in her head. Not only was I not that kind of asshole, but cheating on Katie with her best friend in her other best friend's house was the sort of drama that ended with my man-parts in a blender.

  Hoping to derail whatever scheme she'd concocted, I yanked the door open before she could knock.

  She didn't even flinch—probably a weird side effect of my aura making everyone feel safe. Instead, she pushed past me wearing a white linen dress that was less "clothing" and more "suggestion of clothing." The fabric was so sheer I could practically see her thoughts.

  "Breaker," she purred, voice dripping honey and poison. "Or do you prefer Aspirant? Maybe... Revered One?"

  My face went thermonuclear. Ted was definitely laughing in my soul-space. The bastard was probably taking notes.

  "I've heard tales of your... insatiable appetite." She flipped her sea-foam hair over one shoulder in a move that definitely came from a romance novel. "Thought I'd sample it myself."

  My heart was attempting to escape through my throat. This was happening. This was actually happening. I was about to get seduced by an eerily attractive plant person.

  "Liz, look—" I managed, voice cracking like I was thirteen again. "This isn't—I'm with Katie—"

  She arched one perfect eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly do you think is happening here, Revered One? I saw you staring during dinner."

  "Fuck off," I snapped, finding my spine. "You were making eyes at me all night like I was dessert. What's your game?"

  Without warning, she dropped her "bottle"—actually some kind of leather cylinder—onto my table. It unrolled with a soft thwap, revealing a Go board. Her sultry demeanor cracked like an egg, the real Elizabeth emerging with a wicked grin.

  She actually cackled. Full witch-style cackled.

  "Astrid mentioned you went seven games with her without breaking a sweat," she said, voice returning to normal as she tossed me a bag of stones. "Figured we could play a few rounds. See what the mighty Revered One is really made of."

  Relief flooded through me so fast I almost collapsed. "You're such a fucking asshole."

  "I think I'm in love,

  "I’ll let Dara know,

  Elizabeth chuckled, folding herself onto a beanbag chair with surprising grace. "Gotta give you credit—most men would've melted into puddles if I showed up dressed like this." She gestured at the criminal excuse for a dress. "You like it?"

  "Would look better on Katie," I said immediately.

  "Oh, you're absolutely right about that," she laughed, genuine warmth breaking through. "That girl could make a potato sack look good. So—we playing or are you going to keep standing there staring?"

  "Fine." I pulled out a black paper-wrapped bottle of Sevenfold Liquor from my soul-space and settled across from her. "Loser drinks. You're black, so you start."

  She placed her first stone with practiced precision. "So what exactly are your intentions with Katie?"

  I stared at her blankly. "Was the whole seduction thing a test?"

  "What if it was?" Another stone clicked against the board. "Answer the question."

  "I need to figure out if I even get to stay on Ark first." I studied the developing pattern, already seeing three ways to crush her position. "This last month was more happy accident than grand plan."

  We traded moves in silence, stones clicking like a conversation in another language. Elizabeth was good but played too safe, building walls instead of weapons.

  "Let's say you win the tournament," she pressed. "Then what? Off to Sylvarus to become Monster Hunter Supreme while Katie stays here pining?"

  "Pretty sure La-Roc is my home now." I sliced through her defenses, capturing three stones in one brutal move. "Well, technically Mo-Lei underneath it, but semantics. If I stay, nothing changes."

  She pursed her lips at the loss, then absolutely demolished my lower right corner like it was made of tissue paper.

  Okay, so Elizabeth was

  "And then you run off on some hunt and die like Carlos?" The question came out smaller, more vulnerable.

  I winced at the mention of Katie's late husband but managed a grin as I spotted her weakness and annihilated her moyo on the opposite side.

  "Nah, I tried dying last month." The cork popped free with a satisfying sound. "Wasn't for me. Zero out of five stars. Would not recommend."

  Elizabeth studied me for a long moment, searching for the lie. I tapped the raised scar beside my left eye—the one that had turned it blue while the other stayed brown.

  "Too close for comfort. Now I have a permanent reminder about why charging into fights is stupid."

  She held my gaze, then looked down at the board. Her face went through several interesting color changes.

  "Ah. Shit." She grabbed the bottle and took a long pull. The Sevenfold hit her like a truck—she sputtered, coughed, then came up laughing. "That's fucking evil."

  My aura lit up as a familiar presence entered range. A grin spread across my face.

  This was about to get interesting.

  The door slid open with deliberate slowness. Katie stood there with a grin that looked disconcertingly evil.

  "Well, well, well," she said sweetly, gaze ping-ponging between Elizabeth's sin-dress and my probably guilty face. "What's happening here?"

  "Katie!" I launched myself at her like an overly enthusiastic golden retriever. "I didn't know you were coming!"

  She melted into the hug, then fixed Elizabeth with a mock glare that could've frozen hell.

  "Ben thought I was trying to steal him," Elizabeth said with theatrical innocence.

  Katie's expression went from mock anger to pure mischief. "Oh, is that why you're wearing that? Pulling the Carlos test again?"

  Elizabeth went crimson. "I just wanted to make sure—"

  "Liz, I'm a grown-ass woman," Katie interrupted, settling onto a beanbag like she owned the place. "If you want to join us in that bed, just ask. There's plenty of room for three."

  She actually waggled her eyebrows.

  My brain short-circuited. "Wait, what—Katie—"

  Elizabeth looked like she might spontaneously combust. "I... that's not... I mean..."

  "I'm fucking with you both." Katie's laugh was pure music. "Damn, you're too easy. It's not even sporting anymore." Her expression softened. "But seriously, Liz—thanks for looking out. Now get out so I can molest my boyfriend in peace."

  “Ugh, Gaians!” Elizabeth grabbed her game board and evacuated like the room was on fire, clutching the Sevenfold bottle like a life preserver.

  I blinked at Katie. "What happened to the shy bakery girl I met?"

  She shrugged, confidence radiating from every pore. "I beat her to death." Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Where's Red? I brought cheese buns."

  "Currently hunting in the foothills, chasing a ball I threw way too hard. He's fine through our bond, just... determined."

  She raised an eyebrow but let it slide. "Okay, well, I didn't just come here for reunion sex—though that's definitely happening. I need to tell you something."

  "Everything okay?" I asked, settling beside her.

  She nodded, took a breath. "I'm coming to Sylvarus with you after the tournament."

  My heart did a full gymnastics routine. "What?"

  "Business has been incredible. I can afford tuition without entrance exams." The words tumbled out faster now. "I don't want to be a Monster Hunter, but I want to learn. Proper techniques. Like you have."

  "Katie, fuck yes!" I practically tackled her. "We're going to magic school together! Assuming I don't die in the tournament!"

  She grinned as I leaned down to kiss her, tasting sugar and possibility. "Your team's still in first place, last I checked." She said.

  "Mhmm," I murmured against her lips.

  Hours later, tangled in sheets and satisfaction, Valor picked up something stalking through the halls. The distinct click-click-click of claws on wood cut through the peaceful quiet.

  The door exploded open like someone had kicked it. Red strutted in with the confidence of a landlord collecting rent, leaped onto the bed with enough force to shake the frame, bulldozed between Katie and me, and dropped his disgusting, slobber-covered ball directly onto my chest.

  "You found it? Good boy."

  I sighed and shoved the thing under my pillow. Red huffed with satisfaction, flopped down between us like a furry wall, and immediately began snoring.

  I draped an arm over him and got a face full of enthusiastic, dirt-flavored kisses for my trouble.

  I was too exhausted to care, too happy to complain, and too content to do anything but fall asleep snuggling with my big goofy dog instead of my girlfriend.

  Living on Ark was insane. Did I even want to go home anymore?