My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!

The mountain shuddered once, then settled.

The white fire in the furnace didn't explode. Didn't rage or roar or consume. It simply... changed.

The flames shifted from blinding white to warm amber, like sunset caught in glass. Then they dimmed further, settling into a soft, steady glow—the kind of glow you'd see in a well-banked hearth.

It was comfortable and contained. So while the furnace still existed, it was no longer sending signals, asking to be fed.

Marron stared, waiting for something more. Waiting for the mountain to collapse or the walls to crack or something dramatic.

Instead, the marble around them seemed to breathe. The oppressive weight that had pressed down on the chamber lifted like morning fog. The stone settled with small creaks and sighs, adjusting to its new state.

The dungeon wasn't destroyed.

It was just... done.

There was an eerie air of calm around them now, and Marron wondered how long until it would affect all the mimics on the lower floors.

Would it also affect any other monsters here? The Garlic Ant might have had siblings...

"Is that it?" Lucy asked, her watery hands clasping at her daggers.

Halloway stepped closer to the furnace, studying it with narrowed eyes. "The core's dormant. Stable." He pressed a hand to the marble wall. "The dungeon's converted itself. It's not a threat anymore—it's just structure now. Stone and space."

"A settlement," the Lieutenant said quietly. He looked around the chamber like he was seeing it for the first time. "We can live here."

Elena let out a shaky breath. "It's really over?"

Before anyone could answer, a small sound cut through the quiet.

Click.

Marron's head snapped up. She knew that sound—felt it more than heard it, like a lock opening in her chest.

Her vision blurred at the edges, and familiar text bloomed in her mind:

[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: Dungeon Sealed Through Sustenance]

[Food Cart: Comfort & Crunch - Shackle Released]

[Limitation Removed: Cart may now store perishable goods indefinitely without spoilage] [Note: Your cart was used to feed and seal a dungeon core, not as a sacrifice. Magic recognizes intent.]

Marron blinked hard, reading it twice to make sure she understood.

Her cart had been shackled—limited—this whole time, and she hadn't even known it. But using it to cook for the dungeon, to feed instead of destroy, had lifted one of those limitations.

The System recognized that she'd chosen nurture over violence.

"Marron?" Mokko's concerned voice pulled her back. "You alright?"

"Yeah. I'm—" She laughed, sudden and breathless. "My cart just leveled up. Or unlocked. Or something." She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the warmth of the bond there. "Food won't spoil anymore. I can store things indefinitely."

Lucy tilted her head. "Because you fed a dungeon?"

"Because I fed it instead of sacrificing the cart to destroy it." Marron looked at the furnace—now just softly glowing coals. "The magic knows the difference."

The Lieutenant watched her with those pale, unreadable eyes. "Intent matters."

"Apparently."

Halloway cleared his throat. "Well. That's one problem solved." He turned to face the Lieutenant fully, his weathered face grave. "Now we need to discuss the others."

The Lieutenant straightened, somehow looking both resigned and ready.

"The mimics in Brookvale," Halloway continued. "Your people who were sent to establish a settlement there. What were their orders?"

The Lieutenant's jaw tightened. "To claim the town. It was small, full of discarded magical items. The Captain said we deserved to live above ground, that Brookvale would be our foothold." He paused. "Instead of a tunnel to Whetvale, we were supposed to create a permanent settlement there."

"It was a town," Halloway said, voice flat. "With families. People who lived there."

"I know." The Lieutenant didn't look away. "I argued against it. Others did too. The Captain said it was necessary. That tallmen would never accept us, that we needed leverage." His hands curled into fists. "Another lie."

Marron thought of the neat package on the counter, now empty. The clinical way the Lieutenant had described the meat. The way he'd switched sides when it mattered.

"What happened to Brookvale?" she asked quietly.

Halloway's expression hardened. "It's been dealt with. The Guild sent a team when we got reports of hostile mimics. They... cleared the settlement." He let that sink in. "Hostile mimics were killed. The few who surrendered are being held."

Elena made a small, hurt sound. The Lieutenant's face went carefully blank.

"But," Halloway continued, "Brookvale is quiet now. Empty. It could be resettled." He looked at the Lieutenant. "By peaceful mimics. By your people, if they agree to terms."

The Lieutenant's eyes widened fractionally. "Terms?"

"A treaty." Halloway crossed his arms. "You can live in Brookvale. Build a community there. We'll establish a tunnel between Brookvale and this dungeon settlement for your people to travel freely. In return—" His voice went hard. "You stop infiltrating Whetvale. You stop impersonating our people. You learn to exist without deception."

"And if we break the terms?" the Lieutenant asked.

"Then the treaty ends, and so does our mercy." Halloway's gaze was ice. "Your kind's transgressions against the Guild have been great. People I cared about were hurt, replaced, erased. You're getting this chance because the Captain is dead and because you helped kill him. Don't waste it."

The Lieutenant stood silent for a long moment. Then he bowed his head. "I accept the terms. On behalf of those who remain."

"Good." Halloway's shoulders loosened slightly. "Then we have work to do. This dungeon needs to be surveyed, mapped. Brookvale needs to be cleared for resettlement. And your people need to be informed that their war is over."

Marron looked around the marble chamber—the dormant furnace, the high ceilings, the space that had felt so threatening just minutes ago. Now it just felt like... a place. Stone and potential.

"A mimic settlement," she murmured. "In a sealed dungeon. With a tunnel to Brookvale."

"And trade with Whetvale," Halloway added. "Supervised, regulated trade. We can teach your people to cook properly—" He shot Marron a tired smile. "—since you seem to respond well to good food."

The Lieutenant touched his chest, where some color still lingered from the cupcake. "We do."

"Then it's settled." Halloway looked at each of them in turn. "The dungeon is sealed. The Captain is dead. And we have a chance to build something better than what was."

The furnace glowed softly, content and full.

Marron felt the bond with her cart warm in her chest. One of its limitations was lifted, and she wondered how many more there were to discover.

Maybe this was how you changed things. Sometimes grand gestures were needed. But other times, some good food and a stubborn belief in second chances proved more potent.

Elena took a breath, opening her mouth to speak—

And flickered.

For just a heartbeat, she went translucent. Like smoke. Like she wasn't quite there.

She gasped, stumbling. Marron caught her arm. It became solid and real again, but Elena's eyes were wide with terror.

"What—" Elena's voice cracked. "What's happening to me?"

The Lieutenant's hand went to his chest. His pale skin had gone even paler, almost see-through at the edges.

Halloway's face went grim. "The dungeon's dormant. The core magic that sustained you..."

"Is gone," the Lieutenant finished quietly. He looked at his hands. They flickered again, barely visible for a breath before solidifying. "We're fading."