My Food Stall Serves SSS-Grade Delicacies!

While the tremor faded, the wrongness remained.

Marron's cart rattled again and this time, she felt a sharp and insistent pull through the bond. It was like a fishhook caught between her ribs.

The System notification still hung in her vision, pulsing red:

[ALERT: Resonance Detected. Dormant Core Disturbed.]

[Source: Unknown.]

But beneath it, new text flickered to life, hesitant, like the System itself was uncertain:

[PROXIMITY ALERT: Legendary Artifact Detected]

[Distance: 2.3 km, Southwest]

[Warning: Cart Shackle #2 - Artifact Detection currently LOCKED]

[Note: Continued exposure may facilitate unlock conditions]

Marron's breath caught.

There was another Legendary Tool waiting for its next owner.

She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the phantom tug pulling southwest, toward the base of the mountain where the meadow gave way to rocky foothills. The air there shimmered like heat off a skillet, but the temperature hadn't changed.

"Marron?" Alexander's voice cut through her daze. His sword was half-drawn, his body positioned between her and the disturbance. "What do you see?"

Her voice came out rough. "One of the Legendary Tools. It's... calling."

Elena gasped. "Calling to what?"

"To the dungeon we just sealed, or..." Marron stared at the shimmer. "Maybe something else?"

The ground trembled again, lighter this time. Like a heartbreat deep underground.

Mokko shifted his stance, wooden spoon gripped tight. "That doesn't sound dormant to me."

"It's not the sealed dungeon," Marron said slowly, pieces clicking together. "It's a new one. Growing."

Lucy's translucent form rippled. "How can you tell?"

"Because I can feel both." Marron pointed at the mountain behind them, then at the shimmer ahead. "The sealed one is... quiet. Full. Content. But that—" She gestured southwest. "—that one's hungry."

Alexander's jaw tightened. "Dungeons don't just appear overnight."

"They do if a Legendary Tool wants them to." Halloway's voice startled them all. The Guildmaster had returned, moving silent as smoke, his weathered face grim. He stood at the forest edge, eyes fixed on the distant shimmer. "I felt it from half a mile away. The signature is unmistakable."

"You came back," Marron said stupidly.

"Of course I came back. A new dungeon forming this close to a sealed one?" Halloway's mouth pressed into a thin line. "That's not coincidence. That's resonance."

"Explain," Alexander said flatly.

Halloway crossed his arms, his gaze never leaving the southwest. "Dungeons are connected. Not physically—magically. They respond to each other, especially when cores are fed or sealed. What you did in there—" He nodded at the mountain. "—sent out a signal. A magical signature that said: This core has been satisfied. This hunger has been fed."

"And the other dungeons noticed," Marron finished.

"Worse. The Tools noticed." Halloway's voice was heavy. "The Legendary Tools are tied to the dungeon cores. When one dungeon goes dormant, the Tools redistribute. They seek new altars, new places to rest. And if they can't find an altar..." He trailed off meaningfully.

"They make one," Elena whispered.

"They grow one." Halloway corrected. "A Tool without an altar creates a dungeon around itself. A hunger that spreads until something feeds it or destroys it."

Marron's stomach sank. "So by sealing one dungeon, we created another."

"You didn't create it. You just... woke it up." Halloway finally looked at her, and his expression was carefully neutral. "The Tool was probably buried there for decades. Dormant. Waiting. Your actions stirred it."

Alexander's hand remained on his sword hilt. "What kind of Tool?"

"Can't tell from here." Halloway squinted at the shimmer. "But it's strong. Old. And judging by the speed of the resonance, it's been waiting a long time to be found."

The pull in Marron's chest intensified, and she winced. Her cart hummed, wheels shifting like it wanted to roll toward the disturbance on its own.

"My cart knows," she said quietly. "It can sense the Tool."

Halloway's eyebrows rose. "Your cart has artifact detection?"

"Not yet. It's locked." Marron gestured at the translucent notification still hovering in her vision. "But it's telling me the Tool is southwest, about two kilometers. And that if I get closer, I might unlock the ability to detect them properly."

"Convenient," Lucy muttered. "And suspicious."

"Not suspicious. Intentional." Halloway's gaze sharpened. "Combat Chefs are supposed to be able to sense Legendary Tools. It's one of the perks of bonding with a cart. Yours is just... restricted."

"Shackled," Marron corrected. She thought of the first unlock—the spoilage prevention. How many more limitations had been placed on her cart? And why?

Halloway nodded slowly. "Someone didn't want you finding these Tools too easily."

The implication hung heavy in the air.

The younger mimics clustered closer, eyes wide with fear. One of them—the one who'd been holding the white flower—whispered, "Will it come for us?"

"No." Alexander's voice was firm. He turned to face them, and Marron saw something shift in his posture. Not the Lieutenant anymore. Not a soldier following orders. Something steadier. "The new dungeon isn't interested in us. We're not what it wants."

"Then what does it want?" Elena asked.

Halloway answered before Alexander could. "Adventurers. Explorers. People who'll choose to enter." His voice was grim. "Mimics are born from dungeons, but not all dungeons use mimics. Some are more... subtle."

Marron's blood chilled. "You're saying this dungeon will lure people in. Influence them."

"Precisely." Halloway's expression darkened. "It won't send monsters to the surface. It'll send whispers. Dreams. Promises of treasure, glory, power. And those who answer will walk in willingly, thinking they're heroes."

"And then the dungeon eats them," Lucy finished flatly.

"Or changes them. Or keeps them." Halloway shrugged. "Depends on what the Tool wants."

Marron stared at the shimmer, her mind racing. A dungeon that influenced instead of invaded. That didn't need mimics because it had something worse: volunteers.

"What do we do?" she asked.

Halloway was silent for a long moment, then sighed. "You? Nothing. Not yet."

"What?"

"You just sealed a dungeon, anchored two mimics to your magic, and unlocked one of your cart's shackles." Halloway's voice was matter-of-fact. "You're exhausted, your magic is depleted, and you're in no shape to investigate a newly forming dungeon core." He looked at Alexander. "And you need to take your people to Brookvale. Prove you can live peacefully before the Guild Council changes its mind about the treaty."

Alexander's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "You're right."

"I usually am." Halloway turned back to Marron. "But you asked what to do from here. So I'll tell you." He gestured broadly, encompassing the world beyond the mountain. "In Savoria, chefs can choose to increase their rank or knowledge in different ways. The most popular is by joining cooking contests or a guild. There are many guilds throughout this world, and I suggest you visit the one in Lumeria."

Marron blinked. "Lumeria?"

"Capital city. Three weeks' travel east." Halloway's expression softened slightly. "The Lumerian Culinary Guild specializes in artifact research and dungeon cuisine. If anyone can help you understand your cart's shackles and the Legendary Tools, it's them. Plus—" His mouth twitched. "—they host an annual cooking tournament. Winner gets access to the Guild's vault of rare ingredients and magical implements."

"You think I should compete?"

"I think you should learn." Halloway's gaze was steady. "You're powerful, Marron, but you're untrained. You cook by instinct, which works—until it doesn't. The Lumerian Guild can teach you control. Precision. How to wield your magic intentionally instead of stumbling into it."

Marron absorbed this slowly. A cooking tournament. A guild that understood artifacts. A chance to unlock more of her cart's potential.

It sounded almost... normal. Like something a chef would do instead of a soldier.

"I'll think about it," she said carefully.

"Do." Halloway's voice was firm. "But first, go home. Rest. Recover. Let the world settle before you chase the next problem."

He was right. She knew he was right. But the pull in her chest—the Tool calling southwest—made it hard to think about anything else.

Alexander touched her shoulder gently. "He's right, Marron. We all need time."

She looked at him—at Alexander, not the Lieutenant—and saw the exhaustion in his face despite the sunlight warming his skin. Saw Elena leaning heavily against him, barely standing. Saw the younger mimics hovering uncertainly, caught between hope and fear.

They'd all been through enough.

"Okay," Marron said quietly. "Okay. We go home first."

Halloway nodded, satisfied. "I'll send word to Lumeria. Let them know to expect you in a few weeks." He glanced at Alexander. "And I'll notify Brookvale that new residents are coming. Peacefully."

"Thank you," Alexander said, and meant it.

Halloway gave a short nod, then turned to leave. But he paused, looking back at Marron one last time. "The Tool will wait. Dungeons are patient when they want to be. Don't let it rush you."

Then he was gone, disappearing into the trees with the same silent efficiency he'd arrived with.

Marron stood in the sunlight, feeling the pull of the Tool like a second heartbeat. But stronger than that was the exhaustion, the bone-deep weariness that came from giving too much of herself too fast.

She thought of Meadowbrook. Of Balen's worried face and the promise she'd made to return. Of her mother's diner and the way morning light caught the grease-slick windows.

Home. She needed to go home.

"Meadowbrook first," she said aloud, more to herself than anyone else. "I need to tell Balen it's safe now. That the mimics have been handled."

Mokko's face lit up. "Home cooking! Proper beds! No more stone walls!"

Lucy snorted. "I'm sleeping for a week."

Elena managed a tired smile. "I'd like to see Meadowbrook. If... if that's okay."

"Of course it's okay." Marron squeezed her hand. "You're coming with us."

Alexander looked southwest one last time, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded and turned away from the shimmer. "Brookvale can wait a few days. Let's get you home first."

The group turned as one, leaving the mountain—and the newly forming dungeon—behind them.

But as they walked, Marron felt the pull of the Tool fade but not disappear. It would be there when she was ready. Waiting. Patient.

She tucked Halloway's suggestion close to her heart.

Lumeria had a cooking tournament, and it was a great chance to learn more about combat chefs.

For now, though, she just wanted to sleep in a real bed and eat a warm home-cooked meal without worrying about monsters.

The rest could wait.