Throwing away food is a sin.
That was something that Methuselah had beat into me. His weathered branches hitting me on the tiny bum, for I was a picky eater as a child, every time I left something that was half-eaten to rot.
I never asked myself where he even got the food, but I guessed that my parents provided.
I smiled at that. Yes, even if they had left me to the best person to shape me into someone who might be a drake but was no demon, they must have made sure I was fed!
And now…
I looked at the moldy onions on the floor. There were some still in the pot. The pot, which had a bottomless rune.
I decided that, at level one, my skill simply wasn't going to prevent the indigestion which the onions which had fallen on the floor were going to bring the mobs who were going to eat the onion dish I was going to prepare.