Grilling was practically a core skill for Fallen Star Squad by this point.
With everyone working together, the meat on the rack grew more and more fragrant as it sizzled over the flame.
The Glacial Bear stared so hard it looked like it was trying to burn holes through the roast with its eyes. Drool pooled on the ground beneath its muzzle.
The smell was basically weaponized.
A few times it reached out like it was about to grab a chunk—then forced itself to stop, swallowing hard like it was trying to act "polite."
The roc, on the other hand, didn't seem that interested. It was sprawled on the ground resting, barely lifting its head.
Half an hour later, that massive Outland Beast was finally done.
Golden on both sides, crisp on the outside, tender inside—fat crackling, aroma blasting through the air.
The Glacial Bear couldn't hold back anymore. It lumbered right up, staring at them with big, eager eyes.
Ethan smiled and tore off half, handing it over.
