Chương 8: Pepper, Paprika, Parmesan, and other seasonings to taste

"You know things sure have been rather cozy ever since I decided to stop using my overpowered cheat skills to adventure and instead used it to open an inn and restaurant and bar."

"It was certainly an inspired and refreshing choice back in 2019," Ilia wiped some sweat from her brow as she placed a single cup of water in front of their first and so far only patron, a corpse they found in the gutter outside this morning.

"Excuse me I ordered a beer," The corpse clarified. Ilia ignored them because we didn't have beer. We opened up this tavern to have a cozy and chill time in a fantasy world with our overpowered cheat skills not to actually engage with the complicated and stressful logistic work of actually running and managing a tavern.

"Who could have guessed that the world wasn't in danger so we didn't need to collect the four Destiny Dials in the first place?" I smile lazily as I wipe down the counter, which I had been wiping nonstop for the past seven weeks. The counter had been sanded down to the point where it was at my knees. The rest of the tavern was still covered in the gore and blood from when that pack of wild boars killed and ate the previous owners.

"Yep! Nothing threatening this world," Ilia agreed as she wiped the sweat from her brow, "So no reason to do anything about anything."

"I am also here," The Goblin said, who was also here. I had him hanging on the wall behind a bar. Suddenly, the door swung open: it was the evening rush. Tens of thousands of people poured into our humble tavern every day at 4: 33 pm sharp, and as always, we met them with a smile. As tables filled, cheer followed, and soon cups of water were flowing like water out of a spilled cup. It warmed my heart to see so many members of my harem so happy and so fulfilled.

Although my smile wavered as one especially familiar face weaved their way up to the bar.

"Ho ho ho." Santa Claus narrowed his good eye at me, the other lost, then hidden, behind a eyepatch.

"Santa,"I nod grimly back. Santa had a dominating presence, all the mirth and joy that had once cascaded off his person like (think of a simile later) was replaced with bloody determination, which made the weak-willed and will-of-weak alike give him plenty of space. As if merely being too close would get you a permanent spot in the Naughty List. Except this Santa Claus didn't hand out coal — he handed out whoopin'. On your butt. Until you died.

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"Something I can get for you?" I continue, mirth having long evacuated my face.

"Ho. Ho. Ho. Just some answers," Santa leaned onto the counter, his corn-cob pipe and button nose twisted into foul facsimiles of the man he once was.

"Like why the strongest hero with the best cheat skill and strongest cultivation is slinging drinks to these faceless NPCs-NPCs-NPCs."

"Why should I lift a finger to save this world when it didn't do anything to save me," I retort, "if ya'll didn't skip my backstory you'd know all the hellish trials and betrayal I had to deal with to become as strong as I am. Except for the cheat skills I got those just for showing up. And the harem, that was an inevitability of the genre."

"Ho ho ho. Well while you've been living the cozy life of a squatter in a gore-soaked tavern, I've trying to make a difference.

I've already collected the nine Gems of Alkuria, the Fallen King's Philosopher's Stones, the four Crystal Wands, the entire Gliqalos Engine, the scattered Teeth of the Divine Wolf, the eight Zodiac Swords, the ten Roots of the First Forest, the complete Arcana of World's End, all eight gym badges, Solomon's Seven Keys, every one of the Worldbreaker hammers, the Runes of All Light and their counterpart the Runes of Full Dark, the All-Father's Crown, the last bones of the Saint of Pain, the Sage Stones the eight Instruments of Doom, every chapter of the Babylon Codex, the seven legendary dragon nipples, every single cursed weapon forged from Voidhell steel, the Armor of the Great Spirit Kings, the four Worldblood Rubies, every verse from the Hymn of the Skybleeder, the saddles of revelation, all twenty of the fallen angel's Lost Feathers, the three Orbs of Eternal Pondering, the Hymn of All Song, and every last remaining first edition print of Black Lotus Lotus Lotus."

"Isn't that like all of them?"

"Ho ho ho. Close, but not quite quite quite." Santa lowered his sack of goodies — which was now pulsating with nearly every world-ending, cataclysmic magical item on the planet — and pulls out an ipad, which he slides over to me. I catch it and glance at the screen. It seems Santa is after one of the Vyrant Gates. Powerful, possibly apocalyptic magical item. Under my pay grade.

"What do you need this bauble for?" I smirk as I pass him another empty glass. He doesn't seem to get it which is stupid and proof that he's stupid.

"Ho ho ho. All these other apocalyptic items were easy enough, but this one is proving hard. You see — it's in the hands of a good boy. Santa can't act against children who aren't naughty, so I'm stuck stuck stuck."

"Ah. Well. That's that, then. I guess your journey is over then."

"Ho ho ho. But does it have to be?" I raise an eyebrow. It turns into a healthy and beautiful young man. But then I lift the other eyebrow to signal there's a problem. With a cough, I signal to the comments, and Santa lets out a flustered huff.

"... be-be?"

"Much better. What were you thinking?"

"... I want to bring the old team back together for one last job job job."