The Deeper Game

If I survive this, I'm going to give my customers free food for a week.

Marron stirred the last pot slowly, each movement sending fresh aches through her shoulders. This was certainly harder than the Whetvale cooking contest.

Sweat had crusted on her skin like salt, and her hands felt raw from gripping knives for hours. The metallic tang of burnt spellwork hung in the air, mixing with smoke and the copper scent of blood.

The monster threat had been pushed back, but it wasn't destroyed. She could still hear distant roars echoing from the outer perimeter, like thunder that refused to fade. 

But they were doing their part, and all of the wounded returned to fight another day.

+

Wounded adventurers rested near her makeshift station while they waited for their turn. Some had propped themselves against supply crates.

Others lay down on bedrolls that had been hastily dragged from storage. 

Lucy pulsed gently beside a young mage, her lavender form glowing as she delivered another healing surge to purge the last traces of venom from his system.

The mage's breathing had finally steadied.

+

Away from the front lines, Mokko set down a broken food satchel like he was laying a fallen soldier to rest.

His fur was singed in patches, and there was a deep scratch along his left shoulder that he kept trying to hide. He caught Marron's concerned look and grunted dismissively, but she could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

"Mokko!" She called, and when he looked in her direction, tossed him a flask of stamina broth. He caught it and 

The system updates flickered weakly in her peripheral vision—no fanfare this time, just sterile readouts that felt oddly cold after everything they'd been through.

[Emergency Cooking Session Complete]

[XP Gained: 1,180]

[Emotion Load Stabilized at 64% | Cascade Risk Reduced]

Sixty-four percent.

Still dangerous, but no longer the pressure cooker it had been. Marron exhaled slowly, feeling some of the tension finally leave her chest.

+

Council members and guild officials began regrouping around her station, their faces grim in the fading light. Ashfall had blood on his sleeve—not his own, from the way he kept flexing his polearm without wincing. Mielle pressed a clean cloth to a burn on her forearm, the skin angry red around the edges.

"Never seen them bypass the adventurer lines like that," Korith muttered, shaking his head. "Monsters usually go for the closest target, not the most strategic one."

Lila nodded, her voice soft but troubled. "Or target the chefs specifically. That's not normal predator behavior."

Marron finally found her voice, though it came out rougher than she expected. "That wasn't instinct. That was strategy."

The words hung in the air like an accusation. Around the circle, faces grew more troubled.

The system chimed quietly:

[Tactical Anomaly Logged]

[Behavioral Pattern Matches: Coordinated Targeting Protocols]

[Manual Override Signature: Unknown]

Manual override. Someone had been giving commands.

Sage leaned forward, his expression dark. "The question is: who has that kind of control over monster behavior? And why use it to target guild chefs?"

+

As the others talked, something nagged at the edge of Marron's memory. A shadow at the periphery of her thoughts, like a word on the tip of her tongue that wouldn't quite form.

She closed her eyes, trying to piece it together. The coordinated attacks. The way the monsters had moved with purpose rather than hunger. The intelligence behind those yellow eyes.

And then it hit her.

The hooded customer.

Not clearly—the memory was still frustratingly vague—but she remembered shadows and a voice like dry wind. Their odd, specific interest in duskbeast meat. The way they'd watched her hands while she worked, tilting their head with what she'd thought was appreciation.

"I'm not picky, but I am curious."

They had given her the duskbeast meat, and while she cooked, all of those eyes staring at her from the treeline...

Marron shivered as she remembered it.

At the time, she'd felt proud of impressing them. She'd gone out of her way to prep the meat properly, to match the complex flavor notes of such rare ingredients. She'd wanted to show off her skills, to prove that a humble cart cook could handle exotic requests.

Now, the memory felt different. Clinical. Like being studied under a lens.

Her mouth went dry as the realization crystallized.

"I knew them," she whispered.

The conversation around her stopped.

"What?" Mielle looked up sharply from tending her burn.

"The one giving commands to the monsters. I knew them. They were here before."

Horror Sets In

"One of the scouts?" Mielle asked, confusion creeping into her voice.

Marron shook her head slowly. "No. A customer. I served them."

The words fell like stones into still water. Lila gasped. Korith froze mid-gesture. Sage lowered his gaze—and Marron realized with growing dread that he didn't look surprised.

The memory sharpened, bringing details she'd forgotten. There had been other hooded figures that day—three of them, standing at the edge of the treeline while their companion ordered the duskbeast meat. At the time, she'd assumed they were traveling companions, perhaps waiting their turn or simply resting.

But now she remembered: they never spoke. Never moved. Never showed any interest in food at all.

They'd just watched her cook. Watched her system notifications flicker. Watched her hands move with practiced precision as she prepared a dish that should have been beyond her skill level.

"I think they wanted to see how much I could do," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "They gave me rare ingredients to test my limits. And when I exceeded them..."

She swallowed hard.

Now they know what I'm capable of.

A memory surfaced, clearer now in the wake of blood and fire.

"If your food is good, we'll leave peacefully."

The hooded figure had said it casually, as if they were bartering over fruit. But the pressure that radiated from them—sharp and invisible—had set her teeth on edge.

They hadn't been curious.

They'd been deciding whether she lived or died.

Stakes Revealed

Ashfall's expression darkened. "That duskbeast wasn't random either, was it? Someone wanted you to have that meat. That's high-tier monster flesh—not something you stumble across."

The pieces clicked together with horrible clarity. "They were testing me. The monsters tonight were the final exam."

The system pinged faintly, and Marron's blood chilled as she read the alert:

[Legacy Memory Fragment Detected]

[Warning: External Observer Matching Profile: Unknown Master Tier | Threat Rating: S]

[Historical Pattern Recognition: Similar Incidents Recorded]

Legacy memory fragment. Historical patterns. This had happened before.

Mielle's face had gone pale. "Generalists. That's who they're after. It's not just you, is it?"

Marron felt the world tilt around her. "They want to see what we're capable of... before they decide what to do with us."

Sage finally spoke, his voice heavy with knowledge he'd been carrying. "Or before they decide who gets to survive."

The words hit like a physical blow. Marron stared at him, seeing confirmation in his eyes. "You knew. You knew this was coming."

"I suspected," he admitted.

"Juno received a similar visit before she disappeared. A customer with unusual requests, testing her limits. We found her cart abandoned three days later."

The silence stretched like a held breath.

+

As the group began the grim work of packing up the battlefield kitchen, Marron found herself glancing repeatedly at the treeline. The shadows had grown long with approaching dusk, and every flicker of movement made her heart race.

Then she saw it.

Not just a shadow this time, but a familiar silhouette standing at the edge of the woods. Same height. Same posture. Same unnatural stillness that had unsettled her during their first encounter.

Her breath caught.

The figure tilted their head—the exact same gesture from that day at her cart. But now, instead of curiosity, it read as appraisal.

Approval, even.

She had passed their test.

Their eyes met across the distance, and for a moment, Marron felt completely exposed.

Dissected.

Known in ways that violated something fundamental about who she was.

Then the figure melted back into the shadows and vanished.

The system alert flashed urgently:

[Unknown Observer Signature Recurring]

[Recommend: Defensive Measures]

[Caution: You Are Being Actively Monitored]

Marron's hands trembled as she closed the last of her supply crates.

They saw what I could do under pressure. Now they know exactly what I am.

And they're not done testing me yet.

"If your food is good..."

The old phrase rose unbidden in her mind.

"...we'll leave peacefully."

They hadn't left.

They'd just waited.