Chương 219

Night fell over the forest. They set up camp in a quiet clearing. Grid sat on a log, aggressively polishing his greatsword. Piaro sat cross-legged in the grass, his eyes closed in deep meditation. Mumud sat stiffly on a rock. He kept his posture straight. He waited for Rudra to call him over and demand magical labor. Rudra didn't look at him. The young man dropped a heavy metal block onto the dirt. He tapped it. The metal unfolded into a massive iron cauldron and a flat grill.

Rudra tied a white apron over his dark coat and pulled out a cooking knife. He tossed a block of butter into a hot pan. The sizzling sound echoed in the quiet woods. He chopped wild onions and sliced the pheasant meat with smooth, practiced motions. The rich, savory smell of roasting meat drifted across the camp. Mumud's new stomach gave a loud, embarrassing rumble. He flushed, hoping nobody heard it. Rudra tossed a handful of spices into the pan. He seemed to be in a fantastic mood. He started to hum.

It was a low, upbeat tune. Mumud tilted his head. The melody was a little disjointed. Rudra grabbed a wooden spoon and started stirring the stew. The humming grew louder. Then, he opened his mouth and started singing. Mumud's eyes widened. It was horrendous. Rudra was completely tone-deaf. The notes were wildly off-pitch and his voice cracked on the high notes and dragged painfully on the low ones. He missed the rhythm entirely. It sounded like a rusty saw scraping against thick glass.

Grid stopped polishing his sword. The blacksmith winced, rubbing his ears.

"Hey!" Grid yelled over the noise.

"Stop that! My ears are bleeding!" If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Rudra didn't even hear him. He was completely in the zone, tossing chopped carrots into the pot and belting out the chorus of some unknown song. The only problem was that he missed every single note. Mumud clutched his hands over his newly formed human ears. He had spent centuries trapped in silence.

For a brief, terrifying second, he actually missed the quiet of the grave. He looked across the fire. Piaro was still sitting cross-legged. His eyes were closed. But the Sword Saint's right eye was twitching violently. Piaro's hand slowly reached down. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword. The blade slid exactly one inch out of its scabbard with a soft click. Piaro took a slow, deep breath. His face was twisted in a severe internal struggle. Mumud watched in horror.

The legendary sword saint was genuinely debating whether or not cutting his Benefactor's vocal cords was ethical. Rudra hit a particularly screechy high note, flipped a piece of meat with his spatula, and laughed. Piaro exhaled sharply. He pushed the sword back into its sheath and aggressively rubbed his temples.

"Dinner's ready!" Rudra announced happily. He scooped massive portions of the hot, glowing stew into wooden bowls. He walked around the fire, handing them out. He stopped in front of Mumud. He held out a steaming bowl.

"Eat up, Mumud," Rudra smiled.

"You need the calories to stabilize your new core." Mumud slowly reached out and took the bowl. He looked down at the rich broth. He looked at Grid, who was still grumbling but eagerly shoving the food into his mouth. He looked at Piaro, who looked deeply exhausted by the auditory torture but accepted his bowl with a respectful nod. Then, Mumud looked at Rudra. The young man was sitting on a log, feeding pieces of meat to the giant lion and eating his own stew.

The heavy, suffocating paranoia in Mumud's chest finally snapped. Braham was a tyrant who regarded anyone other than himself as insignificant. Braham would have killed anyone who he found not pleasing.. Rudra was someone who wrestled birds in the mud in order to get great ingredients. He sang so terribly that the man he saved considered attacking him. He cooked hot meals for his followers and never asked for anything in return. You cannot fear a man who sings that badly, Mumud realized.

The invisible chains wrapped around Mumud's mind vanished. The centuries of trauma and guarded suspicion simply melted away. Mumud picked up his wooden spoon. He took a bite of the stew. The flavor was incredible. The warmth spread through his chest, settling his rapidly beating heart. Mumud looked at the fire. For the first time since he met the Siren woman on the beach centuries ago, a true, genuine smile spread across his pale face.

"Thank you, Lord Rudra," Mumud said softly. Rudra looked over and smiled back.

"No problem. Want seconds?"

"Yes, please," Mumud answered. He finally felt like he belonged somewhere.