Recipe for the Apocalypse: I Cooked an S-Rank Monster

Chapter 5: Cooking Under Fire

The sky above Ironway's southern perimeter turned red at seventeen minutes past three in the morning, and Dash knew, from the vibration crawling through the kitchen tile into the soles of his feet, that tonight was no ordinary breach.

Not one monster. Not four.

Dozens.

The alarm screamed again. Not five notes. Not seven. This time it never stopped. One long, unbroken tone, like a machine wailing because it knows it is about to die. From the speakers, Aldric's voice came through, and for the first time it didn't sound like an order. It sounded like a warning.

"All Hunters, southern perimeter. CIV-7, evacuate to Sector Four and Sector Seven bunkers. Now. This is not a drill."

Dash was already in the kitchen. Theo, who had been outside for barely three minutes, came sprinting back in, gasping, the notebook still strapped to his chest. "Sector Nine is too far," he said, doubled over in the doorway. "I won't make it. Safer here."

"Nothing is safe," Dash said. He pulled Theo behind the counter, away from the windows.

The walls shook. Dust rained from the ceiling. Outside, gunfire. Not one shot. Not two. Full bursts. Then a deeper sound. A boom. Like something enormous slamming into something even harder.

"Rank-C," Theo said, hearing the impact. "Maybe worse. A lot of them."

The Rusty Skillet sat in the transition zone. Too close to the perimeter wall to count as safe, too far from the main bunker to reach without crossing open ground. Dash knew that. Theo knew that. And now, with monsters tearing at the walls outside and two CIV-7s who should have already been underground, they were both trapped.

The kitchen's side wall exploded.

Not breached. Exploded. Brick and mortar blasted inward in a cloud of dust. And through the hole stepped a Gristle-Boar. Rank-D. The size of a full-grown wild hog, but its back was plated with cartilage two fingers thick, glossy as glazed ceramic. Its eyes were small. Red. Locked on Theo.

Theo stumbled backward. His heel caught the leg of a table. He went down. His back hit the floor hard.

The Gristle-Boar charged.

Dash didn't think. His hand grabbed the fillet knife from the rack. Small. Thin. Not a weapon. But he didn't swing for the neck. Didn't swing for the head. He swung for the back leg. The tendon. The exact point where muscle meets bone and the animal's entire weight comes down.

One cut. Deep. Precise.

The Gristle-Boar shrieked, a high, thin sound like train brakes locking up, and its left hind leg buckled. The animal lurched sideways, crashing into the dish rack. Plates shattered everywhere. But it couldn't run anymore. Couldn't charge.

Theo, still on the floor, yanked an old pistol from inside his coat. Two shots. The first one missed. The second went in right behind the ear. The Gristle-Boar dropped. Didn't move again.

Three seconds of silence.

Then the front door of The Rusty Skillet swung open and Kael Mireaux walked in, carrying two Rank-D carcasses dripping blood from her left hand.

She dropped them on the floor. Looked at the hole in the wall. Looked at the dead Gristle-Boar. Looked at Theo on the ground with a smoking pistol. Looked at Dash holding a fillet knife coated in black blood.

"Well," Kael said. Her breathing was still even, but there was sweat at her temples. "You want to cook those, or do you want me to drag both of you to the bunker?"

"Cook," Dash said. No hesitation. No pause.

Kael stared at him. "There are forty monsters outside. The perimeter could collapse any second. And you want to cook."

"There are forty monsters outside," Dash repeated. "And out there, Hunters are fighting on empty stomachs. They haven't eaten since last night. If I can prove this meat is safe, if I can give them a buff..."

"You're insane."

"Maybe." Dash was already kneeling beside the Gristle-Boar, fillet knife in hand. "Help me flip it. I need the back leg. Four minutes after death, the toxin glands rupture and the venom spreads into the muscle. I don't have four minutes to argue."

Kael stared at him for three seconds. Then she crouched down and helped him roll the carcass over.

Outside, the gunfire kept going.

Forty minutes.

Dash cooked in the middle of a war. Outside, explosions. Screams. The crack of bones breaking, and not human bones. Every time the wall shuddered, the skillet rattled on the burner and Dash nearly lost his grip. But he didn't stop. Dry-brine. Coarse salt. Twenty minutes of waiting. Then slow render. Low flame. Temperature controlled not with a thermometer but with the back of his hand held just above the surface of the pan. Not too hot. Not too cold. Fifty-eight degrees. No more.

Theo took notes in the corner. Time. Estimated temperature. Color of the meat. His hands were shaking but his handwriting stayed neat.

Kael guarded the door. Knife in one hand. A Rank-D carcass stacked in front of the window as a barricade. Every time a sound came from outside, she tensed. But nothing else came through.

"That smell," Kael said suddenly. Without turning from the window.

Dash looked up. "What about it?"

"Smoked pork. Mesquite wood. And something else. Something that..." She stopped. Swallowed. "I don't know what. But I'm hungry."

Dash didn't answer. He flipped the meat. The outside was a deep brown now. Perfect caramelization. The Gristle-Boar's fat was rendering into the bottom of the skillet, hissing softly.

"Done," Dash said.

He lifted one slice. Set it on a plate. Handed it to Kael.

Kael stared at the plate. Stared at Dash. Stared out the window, where the gunfire was still popping in the distance. Then she picked up the slice with her fingers and bit down.

Chewed.

Stopped.

Her eyes went wide. Not shock. Not disgust. Something closer to wonder. Like a person walking straight into a wall they never knew was there. At the edge of her vision, faint, text floated in the air: [+20% Physical DEF | 00:22:15]

"You're serious," Kael whispered.

"What do you feel?" Theo asked. He was already standing beside her, pen ready.

"Thick," Kael said. "My skin feels thick. Like there's a layer right beneath the surface. And warm. Not hot. Warm." She looked at Dash. "This is real. This isn't suggestion. This is real."

Theo wrote it down. His hands were still shaking. But he smiled.

The vent grille above the sink creaked.

A head popped through. Skinny. Tangled hair. Big, wild eyes like a cornered animal. A girl, no older than nineteen, dropped out of the vent shaft and hit the kitchen floor with a muffled thud.

She sniffed the air. Her eyes darted to the skillet. To the plate in Kael's hand. To the slice of meat still curling with steam.

"I want some," she said. Her voice was hoarse. Cracked. "I don't care if it's poison. I haven't eaten in two days."

"Wren..." Dash started.

"I want some," the girl repeated. She was already stepping toward the counter, hand reaching out.

Dash let out a breath. Took one slice. Handed it over.

Wren bit down. Chewed. And stopped. Her wild eyes suddenly went sharp. Focused. She chewed again. Slowly. Like she was listening to something happening inside her own mouth.

"Well?" Theo asked.

Wren swallowed. Looked at all three of them. "There's no poison in this."

"You're sure?" Dash asked.

"I can feel it." Wren tapped her tongue with her fingertip. "Right here. If there's any toxin in the meat, VSP, fragments, whatever, my tongue goes numb. The tip goes dead. Like novocaine at the dentist." She shook her head. "This doesn't do that. This is clean. This is safe."

Dash and Theo exchanged a look. Theo opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"Sensory anomaly," he murmured. "Hyper-sensitive gustatory receptors responding to VSP. I've never encountered..."

"Great," Kael cut in. She swallowed her last bite. "We have a living poison detector. And we have a cook." She looked at Dash. "Now. Is this enough to feed a platoon?"

Dash looked at the skillet. Looked at the leftover Gristle-Boar on the counter. Looked at the two Rank-D carcasses Kael had dragged in.

"For four people," he said. "Maybe five, if I slice it thin."

Outside, the gunfire was fading. Monster shrieks were pulling away into the dark. The perimeter held. Ironway had not fallen.

But beyond those walls, four thousand people were waiting for dinner. And what was in this kitchen could feed five.

Kael wiped blood off her cheek. Looked at Dash. "We need more ingredients. And we need to move faster than this." She walked to the door. Stopped. Turned back. Her face was tight, and not from the fight.

"This wasn't a normal attack," she said. Her voice dropped low. "Migrant monsters. They're not attacking because they're hungry. They're running. From something to the south. A small Rift just opened up. I could smell it from the perimeter. A smell that sent every Rank-C and below into a full panic." A pause. "Something bigger is coming. And if we don't find a way to feed the Hunters fast, we won't survive the next wave."

She walked out. The door clanged shut.

Dash stared at the empty skillet. Theo closed his notebook. Wren licked the grease off her fingers, her eyes still fixed on the bottom of the pan, hoping there was something left.

Four thousand people. Five portions.

And to the south, something bigger was walking.