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Smith Jr. held two knives, one in each hand. He was dicing carrots with his left hand and smashing garlic with his right on two different cutting boards. Karen was standing behind him with her hands on her hips, inspecting every single one of his actions. He was used to her behavior. If he messed up even by the slightest bit, she’d hit his ear with a hot spoon. It was a cruel and unusual but effective punishment. He hadn’t made a mistake for the last twenty steps.
“Faster,” Karen said. “You want to chop faster than you can think. You want your body to know how to do it without your brain interfering. You want to reprogram yourself into a precise golem capable of accomplishing any task with just the slightest thought. Thinking requires energy—the best chess players can burn up to six thousand calories a day by sitting in a chair. When you can do your tasks automatically without thinking about them, you’ll save a lot more energy.”
Smith Jr. frowned and chopped a piece of garlic instead of smashing it. “You’re distracting me.”
Karen’s arm flashed, and the hot spoon struck Smith Jr.’s ear. “You’re not pushing yourself to the limit. Your hands should be working automatically. Separate your arms from your brain. Focus on my voice; don’t even think about cutting carrots or smashing garlic.”
Smith Jr. exhaled through his nose, his arms still moving. It was difficult, extremely difficult to disassociate himself from his task. “Isn’t there a multi-tasking technique I can learn to do this?”
“What do you think I’m trying to teach you right now?” Karen asked and rolled her eyes. “You can’t rely on the system for everything.” Although Smith Jr. never admitted it, Karen knew Smith Jr. had a system thanks to her own mission. She was supposed to raise Smith Jr. into a chef as good as herself.
“I don’t know what system you’re talking about,” Smith Jr. said and shook his head. With that, his left hand also wavered, and the knife didn’t fully cut through the carrot below. He received another scorching hit to his ear in response. “The store’s opening soon.”
“Keep practicing,” Karen said and rolled up her sleeves. “I’ll take care of the store.” She left the kitchen, went to the entrance, and opened the door. As usual, Eula was there with her carriage; however, unlike usual, she was accompanied by Paul. They strolled into the shop without greeting Karen, walking directly past the rude chef to take a seat. Karen snorted and followed behind them. “What do you want?”
“One of everything on the menu,” Eula said.
Paul nodded. “I’ll have the same.”
“Got it.” Karen headed into the kitchen and inspected Smith Jr.’s actions. There was nothing she could find fault with, probably because she wasn’t actively trying to distract him. She shook her head before going to her station. If it were just one or two dishes, she’d spend more time coaching Smith Jr., but the two waiting outside were rich gluttons. Who else would spend a year’s worth of rent on breakfast? She picked up the rice scooper and was about to dip it into the bag of rice when a scream came from outside, startling her.
Karen and Smith Jr. whirled their heads around. The dining room didn’t look any different; however, when they saw what was going on outside the restaurant, they both stopped what they were doing. Fire was raining from the sky, and people were running while screaming. Someone ran towards the restaurant’s entrance, but before they could get there, a massive bird swooped down and snatched them up with its talons. The horse attached to Eula’s carriage whinnied and bolted, but it didn’t get very far before a tiger-like beast tackled it, bringing it down to the ground while smashing the carriage apart as if it were made of paper.
“What the hell?” Karen asked, her eyes as wide as saucers. She might’ve been a rude person, but she wasn’t callous enough to remain calm upon seeing someone die. “What’s going on?”
“Seems like the world’s ending,” Smith Jr. said with an expressionless face. He had already died once before, and honestly, this new life of his, it wore down his soul through the repeated grind. If a beast were to maul him right now, he didn’t think he’d mind it too much as long as it was quick. He walked out of the kitchen, holding both of his knives. Although he wasn’t afraid of death, that didn’t mean he wanted Eula to get hurt. If a beast came in, he’d fight it. With all his experience in the forbidden corridor, he was confident in himself when it came to combat.
“Stay behind me,” Paul said. That was the first thing Smith Jr. heard when he walked out of the kitchen, and the words weren’t even directed at him. They were directed at his crush, Eula. He wanted to tell her the same thing, but Paul was just too strong, and there was no way Eula would take Smith Jr. seriously, making him feel a bit helpless.
“Do you know what’s going on?” Eula asked with her brow furrowed. The people dying outside were her countrymen. They were her citizens. She might not be the one in charge, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care about her home country. “Can we help them?”
Paul shook his head. “I’ve seen something like this before,” he said. “An immortal is attacking. The best thing to do is stay here.” His eyes shifted onto Tutor Golem 3000. “This is arguably the safest place in the whole empire right now.”
“An immortal is attacking the empire?” Eula asked. “Why would an immortal attack us? We haven’t done anything wrong!”
“I don’t know,” Paul said and shook his head. He grabbed Eula’s arm, stopping the princess from charging ahead. “Where are you going?”
“I can’t just sit here!” Eula said. “I have to help my people!” She struggled to get free, but Paul’s grip was too strong. “Let go of me!”
“You paid me to protect you,” Paul said. “I can’t do that out there.”
“I’m terminating the contract!”
Paul held out his free hand. “That’ll be ten earth-grade spirit stones for breaking the agreement.”
“Who carries around that much money with them?” Eula asked, practically growling. “Let go of me! I’ll pay you after I get back.”
Paul shook his head. “If you can’t pay the termination fee, then our contract is still valid. As your bodyguard, I can’t let you get yourself killed.”
“He’s right,” Smith Jr. said and placed a hand on Eula’s shoulder. “It’s too dangerous. No one will blame you for not helping.”
Eula stomped her feet, but neither of the men would let her go. She glared up at the sky through the window with a tear crawling down her cheek. She’d find the immortal attacking the empire, and she’d remember his face. When she was strong enough, she’d definitely get her revenge.
***
Vremya stared at his display with a furrow in his brow. His very first restaurant was under attack by an unknown force. They might not have targeted his users directly, but by destroying everything around the restaurant, the store’s income would grind to a halt. No one would visit a restaurant in a wasteland. “What do I do…?” he muttered to himself. Should he go down there and fix the problem himself? That’d cost him a hundred thousand years of solitude, and his users would die anyway. It was a shame his golems could only operate within the vicinity of the restaurant. If they went outside of his domain using his divinity as a power source, it’d count as interfering in the lower dimension, and Paul wasn’t strong enough to control Tutor Golem 3000 and bring out the golem’s full potential.
Karta barked at the display and snorted. “How dare that little immortal kill my customers!? Vremya, do something!”
Vremya scratched his head. Was accepting the loss and relocating the only thing he could do? He hadn’t invested much into his users’ surroundings, so he wouldn’t feel any pain in his wallet. However, if he were forced to relocate, he’d definitely take a hit to his pride!
“You’re under attack?” Pravos asked, her head popping out from the kitchen. She walked into the living room with a bowl of hardboiled eggs in her hands. “Want me to send Max over? He’s already an immortal.”
“Max is an immortal?” Karta asked, her eyes widening. “Wait, besides that, aren’t those my quail eggs? What are you even doing here?”
“The fast-time world is only open one day a week,” Pravos said. “I figured it’d be annoying for Vremya if his power was used too often, so I changed the store’s operating hours.”
Karta glanced at Vremya. “You’re okay with that?”
“I’ve already gotten a lot of things,” Vremya said and shrugged. “Everyone who wants to use it has already used it. I don’t mind closing down the fast-time world right now, but it wouldn’t really be fair to my customers.”
Pravos nodded. “So, want me to call a portal for Max?”
“Can he fight?” Vremya asked. The last time he inspected Max, the man was only at the qi condensation stage. Basically, he was as strong as an ant larva.
“It doesn’t matter if he can fight or not,” Pravos said. “As long as he tries his best, that’s all that matters.”
Karta stared at Pravos. “Your optimism is genuinely scary sometimes. No wonder why Blagora calls all the shots.”