So, the first thing you should do when dealing with the Fairest is leave your sanity at the door. Don’t just leave it at the door, actually.

Take your sanity out behind the shed and put a bullet in its head, because the fae don’t make any sense, at least not any kind of human sense. They don’t follow the standard rules.

Which standard rules, you might ask?

All of them.

They don’t have consistent levels. They jump Tiers all the time, depending on if they had a cup of tea, if it’s morning, evening, or afternoon. Or maybe just because they feel like it.

They’re capricious and unpredictable, but they aren’t made out of nonsense. No, they’re more bound to the System’s laws and the rules of the narrative than we are. You see, the fae are a bit like characters from stories. And if they deviate too much from the rules of their story, they suffer for it. They lose power, and in the worst cases, they can be unmade all together. I’ve seen fae suddenly wink out of existence after destroying a team of Master-Tier Pathbearers just because someone complimented their dress sense, and they smiled instead of simply glaring hatefully. I’ve also seen fae go from being pitifully weak to absolutely unbeatable within their specific domains.

Oh, yeah, they have domains too, like Gods. We had a fae called Treemocker join us for a while. She was absolutely useless, complained about everything. Refused to ever clean up after herself, made some of the worst foods you would ever have the displeasure of tasting, but none of that mattered, because it turned out Treemocker was a princess from the Court of Summer.

Now, that might not mean much to you, but it does to her, and functionally it means that if anyone harms any bit of vegetation in her presence, she goes Legendary for about 10 seconds. For 10 seconds, she is nature incarnate. For 10 seconds, the earth roars, the forest rises to obey her every whim, the heavens fall, and you are absolutely felling doomed, assuming you aren’t a Legend yourself, which you probably aren’t.

After those 10 seconds are over, she’s simply a large-eyed child who complains about being hungry and wanting a new dress.

Yeah, I miss that annoying brat. Hope she’s still having fun, wherever she is. But that’s the point of dealing with the fae; you want to figure out their individual rules and understand them to be the characters from stories, because if you think that you’re going to be able to out-fight them casually, well, I got bad news for you.

Most fae don’t work like people. You can’t kill them by beheading them. You can’t kill them just by beating them up. There are narrative rules. You better figure them out.

And, for the love of the Ascendants, never, under any circumstances, eat anything the fairies offer you.

-Memoirs of a Master-Tier War Mage

229 (I)

Volunteer [II]

Despite Shiv’s Psycho-Cartography begging him to run, he didn’t. He stayed in place. Even though this felt like a fever dream, he was also captured by morbid fascination. Awakened bread seizing a kitchen from its staff sounded like a bad joke to Shiv. Yet, it was happening here, and the one who told him that was a lizard-man that Shiv didn’t even know the race of.

His curiosity prevailed over his rationality, and so he stayed, if only to see how this whole thing would end.

“How high is your Stealth skill?” Velly asked. His vertical pupils dilated, glimmering with Pyromancy. His clothes were in tatters. Patches of soot ran along the torn white linen, and there was also a faint stench of burning charcoal. And then there was the head chef’s tail. It was partially artificial. The tip resembled an eggbeater, and more than that, it pulsated with a faint glint of Dimensionality, sparkles of static leaking off its contours. Twin spatulas, coated in grease and pulsating with waves of Pyromancy, drew Shiv’s attention next. They hung from the head chef’s hip, and they whispered to Shiv, begging him to take them.

They glowed with The Chef Unwavering, and they moaned for his touch. “We should belong to a proper chef…”

Psycho-Cartography: Stop looking at them. That’s an enchantment. A social enchantment for a pair of spatulas. What is up with this guy?

Shiv shook his head, trying to pull away from his greed. Before he could fully master himself, however, the head chef held up a clawed hand. “No! Stop! Don’t say anything!”

Before Shiv could ask what was going on, Velly spun. One of his spatulas came free of his hip and settled in his grasp. He swung down, and a clash of mana swelled through the air. A shockwave sent Shiv stumbling back. It was a powerful blast, including hues of fire magic and a strange, boiling orange glow that he’d never seen before.

“Back!” Velly cried aloud. “Back to the Faebread that spawned you!”

He struck out again, and this time, Shiv did see what he was attacking. Crumbs. His eyes widened as his Farsight narrowed in, zooming closer and closer to the faint particulates swaying in the air. They were just little bits of debris, each one a pale speck. But he knew that texture, and more importantly, he could smell the scent in the air. The simmering orange mana radiated out from each of the specks, but with another surge of Pyromancy, the grains of bread were completely dissolved.

Farsight 83 > 84

“Back!” Velly cried one final time, then there were but blackened embers.

Shiv looked on as Velly swept his scaled head about. He was trying to see if there were any other food grains in the air, but Shiv found his own skill more useful. The Chef Unwavering activated, and there were a few scintillating dots in the corner of the chamber. He leaned in closer to the head chef, and he quickly pointed at the crumbs he’d discovered.

“What? What are you—” And suddenly, Velly understood what Shiv was doing. “Ah, good eye, Commis. You have potential.”

Then there came even more crumbs, and Shiv followed them to an open vent lining the upper portion of the ceiling. The crumbs were passing through the air filtration system.

“Damnation!” the lizard-man hissed. “We must move; we cannot stay here any longer. I’d hoped that we would have more time to prepare, but it seems that the Faebread are making their next play. We cannot reveal our intentions in the open. Come. We move!”

Suddenly, Velly was sprinting, and Shiv followed along a second later. They moved away from the entrance, and as they proceeded toward the restaurant proper, Shiv saw around 50 vitality signatures spread out before him. A frosted set of doors with coiling serpents greeted Shiv, and it was shoved open as Velly rushed through.

On the other side, Shiv beheld the inner section of Monster Mystery Meat for the first time. It didn’t resemble any kind of restaurant he’d ever been in. Instead, it reminded him of a dragon’s hoard; the kind one would see in a picture book. The space was vast, well over half a kilometer in diameter, and uneven. With the mana crashing against Shiv’s Shapeless Tides, he knew a Dimensionality spell had to be active, making this place larger on the inside than it was on the outside.

Despite the crisis unfolding, the guests at Monster Mystery Meat remained seated, and they even seemed quite placid. Most of them were well-dressed, others were clad in thick plates of armor, and some wore long, flowing robes that belied their riches; none of them hid just how powerful their magical skills were. That was probably why most of the Pathbearers here remained indifferent. They were powerful, and more importantly, this entire thing seemed like entertainment to them, much as it did for Shiv.

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Immediately, the Deathless took in the clientele. His instincts howled for him to be careful. Battle-scarred Vanguards, mighty Mages, and subtle Shadows sat at various skillfully carved tables, chatting away and drinking sips from glasses filled with brilliant crimson fluid. Also placed before them was an assortment of varied meals. Shiv saw the fried remains of some manner of spider the size of a skull, but with a brown layer of crisp, fried skin. Other tables were gifted with some kind of hog/insect hybrid. People reached out and ripped pieces of chitin away from the strange creature, and they ate it as if finger food, crunching noises sounding as they chewed.

There was even a table that had people eating a whole, deep-fried orc. The dead, gray-skinned brute lay upon the table with an apple in his mouth, and smoke rose from his body, filling the air with a foul, gamey stench.

Okay, Shiv thought. Not sure if that’s healthy or tasty, but they’re really digging into those arms and legs.

Shiv swept his surroundings using his Biomancy field. He moved all of his mana hydra’s heads in tandem, trying to see if there was anything hidden from him. As he did that, the myriad meals flared across his Biomancy, filling his Aegis of Assimilation with new microspells—ones he couldn’t comprehend, organic compounds and structures he’d never encountered before.

They weren’t kidding about the mystery meat, Shiv realized.

At the same time, he realized the dining tables were carved from bone. Not just any bone, but it seemed that they were made from monster bones. A few belonged to dragons. Shiv knew what their bones felt like by now—especially when they broke. Some of the other tables glinted and were covered in flowing scales. Scales harvested from a hydra. Those tables were still technically alive, constantly regenerating. Moreover, they were connected to something underground that constantly fed them nutrition, allowing them to sustain their existence.

As Shiv looked up, he saw the sprawling body of a long-dead hydra serving as the lighting for the first floor of the restaurant. And it was a magnificently massive specimen, its twelve heads stretched across 500 meters of space, and each head’s maw was pointed downward, as if about to swallow the people dining below. Flames burned within their hollow eye sockets, casting a brilliant glow upon the dining chamber. It also added a warm but not overwhelmingly sweltering atmosphere. This place was somewhere Shiv could easily enjoy a nap in. And that filled him with unease.

“Esteemed guests!” Velly cried aloud, holding his hands high. His voice reverberated across the massive room, and all eyes immediately snapped to him. “We will see the Faebread brought low! Behold, our new Commis, sent from Phoenix Academy as aid! It seems that there is still a spirit of bravery and boldness amongst the young!”

“Commis!” the customers cheered as one.

“Holy fuck, there was someone stupid enough to come,” a broad-shouldered goblin woman choked out between laughs. She made a snorting noise and pulled her bonnet from her head, holding it out expectantly. Across the table, a humanoid automaton made of steel sighed and flicked a few mithril coins her way. “Yeah! Give it to mama!” she jeered.

As the lizard-man gestured at Shiv, all the guests began to clap. Some cheering was half-hearted, and Shiv heard a few warriors exchanging bets on how long this one might last, and if there was going to be anything left of him to bury.

“I apologize for the long wait,” Velly continued, “but it is hunger that deepens the palate, and it is denial and struggle that make the ingredients ever more savory. We will prevail. We will feast. And today, we will know what living bread, dreaming bread, bread of the Fairwoods will feel like when they melt upon the tips of our tongues.”

A chorus of jubilation went up amongst the guests.

“You’re the best, Velly,” a tall, muscular elf called. This one wasn’t even wearing armor. In fact, he wasn’t wearing much of anything besides a loincloth. His torso was bare and a map of scar tissue. However, each of his scars glowed with pulsing waves of Dynamancy, and the crystalline bands running along his arm looked expensive.

A seat away, a raven-haired woman wearing a long, pointed cap smiled appreciatively at the lizard chef. Shiv guessed she was a mage, but staring at her filled his gut with strange, churning emotions.

Psycho-Cartography: That’s another charm skill, probably something related to seduction. Look away before you have a problem. We need to get better at resisting social skills—I need to evolve. It’s one of the few remaining things we’re entirely weak to.

A mechanical groan followed, and the sound of a hammer striking the wooden tiles of the floor came thereafter. A huge automaton resembling a cobbled mass of scrap metal shaped into the general likeness of a person and sporting a fist for a head called out to Velly, “Are you sure you do not need my aid, Hero-Chef? I am willing. I will serve.”

Velly turned and held up a fist of his own, saluting the automaton. “Your good intentions are received, Thagar, but you are a customer, and customers should not burden themselves in a kitchen. That is my duty, mine, and my staff’s.”

As Velly continued walking and exchanging words with the customers, Shiv looked up, and a faint, pale sparkle caught his attention. More crumbs were gliding through the air. The Chef Unwavering revealed their position, and the Deathless frowned. He sped up, approaching the head chef from behind.

“They’re in here too,” Shiv whispered. He pointed, and Velly followed his index finger, detecting the crumbs as well.

The head chef clenched his serrated teeth together. Teeth meant to rend and tear subtle flesh. “Damnation. They will likely make a move on the customers soon. That will not be acceptable. Come, Commis, let me show you your colleagues, the ones that remain uncaptured.”

The head chef led Shiv down a massive tunnel, wide enough for a medium-sized dragon to squeeze itself along. As they walked here, their footsteps echoed, and soon, they found themselves going up a slope.

“How much does it cost to run a place like this?” Shiv asked. “Because the amount of Dimensionality to expand the space inside, that must be a fortune.”

“Fortunes are relative, but flavors delight in memories,” Velly declared. “That is the true wealth. Bad is what people will remember.”

Psycho-Cartography: He’s playing up a sense of bravado. He’s trying to perform for us. Listen carefully to his words. It’s all reflex, rote.

Shiv noticed that he still wondered what the hells Velly even was. Before today, he had never seen any lizard men before, not in Blackedge, the Abyss, or the Yellowstone Rubix Well. And now, at Monster Mystery Meat, he’d seen two on the outside, but they sported wings and wore bronze harnesses. Velly seemed lizard-like too, but he was of a different kind altogether. He had clawed talons, digitigrade legs, and his face had more of a bird-like look to it. He even sported a fang-filled beak and colorful feathers along certain sections of his body instead of pure scales.

The tunnel curved, and soon, Shiv found himself walking past a set of colossal doors. They were carved in the shape of a dragon’s roaring, humanoid face, and on the other side, he saw two life force signatures glimmering in wait. They were far along the path, but Shiv smelled cooking oil lingering in the air. Billowing waves of coldness struck him, and the Deathless realized he was in some kind of freezer. As they passed through into the next room, he looked to his left and right, where he saw vaults containing specific ingredients running up along the walls, slotted in place along massive belts that seemed capable of movement.

Holy shit, how much money do these people have? This place is some kind of… food dungeon.

“Cryogenically frozen incubi?” Shiv muttered, reading one of the plates detailing the contents of a see-through vault.

“It is the best way to preserve and contain an incubus,” Velly declared. “For even sedated, an incubus can dream, and a dreaming incubus is a dangerous adversary.”

Right next to that vault was one titled cave biters. It was large enough to fit an adult-sized specimen, but the one currently inside wasn’t quite fully grown. But even then, Shiv wondered how they’d managed to shove such a massive beast like that into a place like this. “These vaults come out of the walls?” Shiv asked, looking up. He counted five vaults going vertical and approximately 15 horizontal.

The head chef didn’t pause once as he continued walking past the massive containers. “The larger ones are dimensional, and many creatures require proper preservative measures. No two things are stored the same, and the more exotic the meat, the more stringent the demands.”

As Shiv looked about, his smile grew wider and wider.

“What even is this place?” Adam said. “I heard that Monster Mystery Meat was absurd, but well, I just assumed those were rumors.”

Shiv chuckled. “Yeah, well, seems like some rumors don’t live up to the truth.”

Finally, his eyes fell on a specific vault, and as he read what it contained, his smile vanished altogether. “Weaveress eggs…” Shiv muttered.

Adam gasped.

And just then, Shiv felt the faintest presence of the Composer draw near in the back of his mind, crawling out from the Blessing she’d bestowed upon him. “No, how? How could they…” Lady Arachnae went through a series of emotions and finally settled on anger. “Cherished Hero of Weave, I have a demand. I know it might present you with difficulties, but I must see an injustice righted. This cannot be. That vault must be removed from this place. My children, my weavers and Weaveresses, are not to be food—not for the Bloodspawn, and not for the degenerate flavor-seekers of the surface.”

Shiv kept his gaze locked on the Weaveress egg vault. “See what I can do,” he replied, his giddy fascination with the space more than doused.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep