"Welcome back. The day after yesterday was indeed a nothing burger! Thus, we compensate onnnnnnnnnnnnn!"
The Host checked the paper.
[02/08/8953]
"The second day of the month! A good month where the summer is in full swing! I think. Is it O assistant?"
"Phoenicis is somewhere in the middle."
"Ah yes, the eighth of sixteen."
"Seventeen months."
"No, isn't it sixteen?"
"The calendar has seventeen months." The Assistant repeated.
"Wh.. a-anyway, for ye who live with the grandeur of 'imperial age, year' blah blah blah, it uh…"
The Host started blanking.
"As you can see, we have no guests. So, as tribute, I have selected our most hardened warriors. Lemme just uh…"
The Host snapped Their fingers.
A gateway like before opened.
This time, the place seemed to be inside.
With carpet and minimalist decorations.
Two stairways converged at the top.
"Gimme a few seconds while I dra-ivily persuade."
The Host got up and crossed the gateway, walking straight ahead.
Entering the space below the stairs with a draping banner, The Progenitor vanished from.
The audience had one person on the stage.
The Assistant gruffly staring into space.
The white haired found the lack of The Host's chattering voice in the space to be rather empty.
Despite all personal emotions.
"What're you shit's starin at huh?"
The Assistant growled at several stares.
For the white haired, the previous Assistant was much more taciturn. Barely even glancing at the audience.
This Assistant was disinterestedly contemptible.
One was the most beautiful human the white haired seen while the other was an animal.
Even the white haired's master paled in comparison.
The other looked good to roast on a fire.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!!!!!!! Take him not me!!!!!!!!"
"Why!!! Why!!!!!! I even did my own laundry!"
"Bum ass you doing laundry? Hard pass."
"I don't see you doing crap."
"Precious me doesn't need to do anything."
"Fuck you!"
"Fuck you too!"
"C'mere!"
"Arggggghhhhh!!!!!!! You won't even have a grave after– Urgh!"
"Say your prayers I'm winning!"
The Host had a straight face whilst dragging two people.
Next to them was an anxious, worrying black shadow for a head.
Slits of yellow eyes peered. Directed to the two below.
Those yellow gleams of light were rather expressive.
The Host stopped right before the gateway. And chucked the two right in.
"Kaaahk!"
"Urk!"
Both heads were definitely not slammed into the sides of the gateway. Resulting in both ragdolling to the floors stage.
The white haired observed this, and noted like before, They handle their subjects mostly roughly.
Crossing the gateway, they plopped themselves back in Their seat.
The black shadow for a head, trudged slowly forward.
Once fully over the strict line, the gateway closed again. The black shadow for a head looked back at the wall.
"Anywho, welcome our returnee guests."
"..."
"Consensus wise, amicably agreed. the hunted…" The Host looked deflated. "Maybe I shoulda brought one of the guides. Tch."
The Assistant eyed the two on the floor twitching. Also bleeding from the head.
"They look dead as hell."
"Whaddya mean."
"No but…" the Assistant stopped themselves.
"Pretty sure they bought something from the system. So they'll be fiiiiiiiiiiiine. Deserved after all."
The Assistant refrained to avoid the bubbling emotions residing in that smaller body.
"Since they're outta commission… two parter! Registration number!" The Host directly said at the black shadow head.
"1008020, Amos!" Amos saluted.
"W– I-I wh– I was joking…"
Awkwardly putting down their hand, Amos gave golden silence.
"...Here is!"
"Amos of The Hunted! Ready for service!"
"Quite right." The Host nodded.
A paper appeared in The Host's hand.
"For the two parter, well… let's have Amos do it solo. And for the other activity for the zoomer kids, these two."
"Um…" Amos raised their fully gloved hand. "...What am I doing?"
"Hm hm hm! Have you ever heard of Vietnam?"
"N… no?"
"Kehehe…"
The Assistant did a motion with their hand and head.
"Wanna see it?"
The Assistant mouthed it.
"What's it like?"
"Great place. Whole lotta fun there."
"Then I will take this assignment!"
"Why are they all like this…" the Assistant murmured.
"Very well! See ya in a bit!" The Host snapped Their fingers.
Like that, Amos disappeared.
"Wuh..?"
"Who… turned on the lights…"
"Perfect timing friends."
""Ah damn.""
"As you know very well, Derek and Selena~!"
"I'll sell you my stock if you let me go back." Derek said.
"What kind."
"Vitcoin."
"How much."
"50%."
"Tempting. Unfortunately, I can own that by going in the past."
"Damn iiiiiiiiiiitttttttttt!!!!!!!!!"
While Derek cried his heart out, The Merciless Host continued.
"One of my favorite hobbies is cooking! I get to eat the food I make. Though most are abominations. Haha."
A… normal. Hobby(?)
"Thus you two!" The Host fingergunned them. "Will compete in a cooking contest!"
"What."
"And we'll get three more judges! From the audience! It'll be randomly picked by the blindfolded! Aka you two."
Quickly picking up steam, The Host blabbered more.
"So it'll be like, really cool. And it evens the connoisseurs on this table. Three is good, but why be simple? Make it more divided! Of course they can reject it, but they get a small wish from me!"
"...Can we like, not." Selena said.
"Particpation trophy and wish."
"...How big?"
"Massive wish."
They grinned.
"Anything you want."
The siblings looked at each other.
A fire lit in their narrowed eyes.
The Host's grin grew.
— —
"IN THE TREES!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
–Ra-tat-at-atat-at-tat-ta!
Hot lead pelted the squadron. Pinned, the soldiers scattered to cover.
"Return fire! Return fire!"
"Where?!"
"The bushes! Up! Anywhere!"
"Thanks for that info genius!" the man with a spade on his helmet sprayed blindedly to where the sound of relentless gunfire assumedly was.
"Need support!"
"Comin!"
Right as the man with a belt full of grenades rushed out of cover, a bush camper peeked out.
The man was immediately turned into a beehive.
"Damn the sick bastards got George!"
As they got squeezed, it became increasingly urgent.
In the center, a shadow mindlessly fired and reloaded when the magazine went dry.
Timing their run, they slid to a fallen comrade. Taking their weapon, they fired everywhere.
Two dots of yellow flickered to the needed ammunition.
Sitting there was explosives.
In the two years, the yellow ceased changing from ghastly dots of light.
— —
"Hm."
[Former Duke of Laetain, Olivier Frosgard.]
"Perhaps it was luck to be here…"
[Opin Company – Merchant Efel.]
"..."
[Commoner Jeanne "Grey Allione'.]
"This is rigged." Derek said.
"Whaddya mean?"
"My eyes can see. Not slick. Not slick at all."
"You don't have eyes."
"Fuck."
Derek grasped at his empty sockets.
"Hey actually this doesn't hurt at all?"
The audience revulsed as Derek put a finger in his sockets.
"Hand in air? Stupid you can't even remember that."
"Hey! I'll– Sh– uh, I can't see." Derek looked everywhere with big empty holes in his skull. The eyelids narrowing. Shielding nothing.
"Hah. Exactly why I'm better than you."
"No need for words then!" The Host exclaimed.
Selena grasped the smooth skin below the nose.
Frowning she intensely stared at The Host. The Host who in one hand dangled both mouth and eyes with the fingers playing with them.
"We shall commence the curking." The Host said with a low deep voice.
"Finest meal wins. Basic or culinary masterpiece are up to you. How it looks will be graded too. Taste is of course everything. Now. Ssssssssssssssstaaaaaaaart!!!!"
The two stood there.
The Host blinked with a straight face.
"W– Wh–... why-why are– why aren't you guys moving." The Host mumbled.
"I can't see."
Selena pointed to her mouth.
"You guys have that." The Host made a face of pure annoyed disbelief.
"No I– oh."
"How I wish…" Selena sighed.
The two trudged to the kitchen that randomly appeared while no one was looking in wildly different gaits of emotion.
"The backdoor holds all ingredients!" a light shone on the door with a paper definitely not covering 'backstage' with 'storeroom'.
The Host got into yapping mode.
"We got eeeeggs! Cumiiin! Uhh. That one tentacle guy we kindly gave a grave for 'invincible' outer gods or something. A dodo! Some bread. Y'know. Anything you need! It's in there!"
The former duke raised an eyebrow.
The two siblings with floppy chef hats that suddenly spawned on their heads, gave two gestures to The Host.
Derek did a solemn oath of mercy in some religion he barely knew.
Selena just accepted the fate of those who get disintegrated for being ugly.
Regardless, both entered the very real 'storeroom'.
"While we waaaait, let's watch what urmos is doing!"
The BGM softly halted with the screen's channel changing from a camera focusing on the 'storeroom' to a scene full of chaos and a quiet place.
[Damn this place.]
Pushing through water in a stream, a line of disgruntled men silently followed the leading man.
[Who is it?!]
[The kid! The ki–]
On the screen with a black line dividing both the eerie quiet and sharp noises, they melded into one.
Sitting in a camp, eating, the black shadow for a head wasn't moving.
[Get some sleep. Got a mission tomorrow.]
The black shadow for a head nodded absentmindedly.
Then the 'storeroom' door opened.
Both siblings interrupted the movie time and set down their items swiftly.
One had overly simplistic items, while the other looked like they were feeding a starving family that hasn't eaten in weeks.
"Well!" The Host clapped for nth time. "What ya got!"
"Egg."
"Food."
"Damn yall both like my family for real."
"Being related to you…"
"Uh…"
Uncomfortable faces appeared as The Host smirked inwardly.
The Weird Host made a weird face.
"Do tell judges! What do you think of their items?"
"Make it good." The Assistant said.
"Intriguing… I look forward to a delicacy too." the merchant chimed in.
Two judges said nothing.
One merely nodded.
Hyperactive eyes zipped everywhere. Studying each movement.
"You got a timer by the way."
"Can I kill myself?"
"No."
"You fucking bitch."
The Host smiled innocently.
— —
Amos forgot something.
Washed away in the sands of time.
Yet any notion of thought ached.
Veils of nothing rose in the yearning mind for something. Fragmenting, withering, sanded.
Unlike the Serath of the collectives.
Amos forgot.
Dreamy mush formed sight.
Hazy ringing surrounding everywhere.
What are you doing?
Following orders.
Why are you following them?
Tasked with it.
Who gave it to you?
….
Muck splayed from somewhere stuck onto Amos. But nothing was there.
Only a shadow with yellow dots.
Killing and killing those deemed threats.
For 5 years it was the same.
The ghastly eyes remind ████ of the Demon Emperor.
…Though that's likely due to them being of the same racial species.
— —
In one corner, an intense flame danced as the correct amounts of each ingredient poured into the bubbling oil.
Sweat beaded down Selena's forehead as she continued showing her skills with the pan.
Mixing while grabbing the next ingredient, flipping the forming mixture with flicks and twists, quickly checking the oven, and blending another separate mixture.
"Zamn."
"..."
"Do you think cute or cool Assistant?"
(The order of the judges was The Host the rearmost left and the former duke rearmost right. The rest are inbetween.)
The Assistant gave a glance.
At some point Selena changed from the casual wear to an outfit more streamlined for a professional kitchen.
Sleeves rolled up and hair tied backward. Braided, which is rather unusual for Selena.
"...I have no comment."
"Disappointing. Tis alright." The Host placed Their hand on the Assistant's shoulder. "We can just get one that's both."
A dark shadow rested on the Assistant's face.
The Host's hand put more strength into digging in the Assistant's shoulder.
"Any options? If so, maybe magical girl or risque. But I see a quite usable one in my sights."
The stoic face of the Assistant crumbled internally as their shoulder was squeezed to oblivion and the beaming innocent smile on The Host.
"W-What about him? The lad… hasn't done anything…! But, uh, stare at the pan." The Assistant quickly said.
Derek yawned while scratching under his graphic tee that has a dinosaur sleeping in bed. With words that the audience can't read.
"Certainly." The merchant spoke.
A quiet click of someone's tongue sounded.
"But of course! Thou can ask the king!" The Host replied with confidence.
"Mm." The Assistant nodded along.
"Then boy, what are you making?"
Derek said nothing. Just staring at the pan.
"Uh gimme a sec." The Host said after seeing no reaction.
Motioning with Their hand, a square thinner than air appeared, tapping on a symbol in a list of others, Their finger stopped at a different section.
Pressed it led to something akin to messages.
Cracking Their fingers, They cruelly laughed as They started typing.
It would look stupid had The Host not made it visible to everyone.
Derek looked at something and in a blink, his eyes dilated.
"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU–"
Derek coughed.
"Yes, hello. What did you ask."
The merchant smacked the inside of their mouth.
"...What is being made?"
"Food."
The merchant's face lost it's innocuous expression for a second.
"...Exactly?"
"Egg."
"I see." the merchant nodded halfheartedly.
"Hm hm! Let's let 'em be!"
The Host kindly interrupted the atmosphere.
"While we wait, discuss! Or be silent. That's fine too."
"..." Jeanne "Grey Allione" bit their tongue.
The former duke merely observed.
The Host stretched while making strange gestures in the air after the square disappeared.
…Not like it matters too much for this day.
****
"Alright alright! Contestants!"
"Times up." The Assistant cut it short.
"Feeeed meeeee! Place yo foo on that, uh…" The Host touched Their lower lip. "...Thing. And espanõl!"
Placing five plates on the aptly named food cart on the side, they drove it to the front.
"Tell us your deesh. And we'll rate outta ten pen."
The Host raised a board.
"Derk. You firsht."
Derek looked at the plate.
"It's uh. Eggs n bacon. With toast."
A disapproving gaze from Selena sold the deal.
"You made something real damn basic man."
"I didn't eat breakfast bro." Derek shrugged.
"We shall feast like the last supper." The Host bowed with hands clasped.
Floating in front and landing on the lengthened desk, each judge chose when to eat it.
"It looks… burnt." the merchant pointed at the absurd amount of pepper at the top.
"Mn." Derek shrugged again.
However it looked, they ripped a bit, and tasted the egg.
The Assistant's face even before eating up close already had a sour face, became dried grapes level of sour.
Didn't even take it in and just spat it out.
"Fuck how much did you put."
"It… i…s.. qui– Kmh! A …lot." The Host struggled to contain small coughs as They strained to say anything.
Their face reddened as they tried to hold it in.
"...The 'bacon' is hard." Jeanne "Grey Allione" said in a softly quiet tone.
"This bread is tolerable. Haphazard and excess butter."
"Eh."
Derek shrugged once again and devoured The Host's food.
"Saly and pepper are far too overwhelming."
The merchant gave it a two.
One for looks, one for taste.
It was seconded by the Assistant and Jeanne "Grey Allione."
The former duke gave it a three.
The Host gave a round four.
"Thus in totale, thirteen."
"Suuucks." Derek said in a monotone voice.
"Learn how to cook moron."
"Hey I did for several hundred years!"
"We didn't even do anything but stay at an inn."
"Uh, pardon your idiocy, but that doesn't count."
"Paying for food you didn't make?"
"Money's a skill."
Selena looked at The Host while frowning.
The Host shrugged.
"Next is ye. So…."
Selena took out a small booklet.
"Mother called it 'light sheam: Ferrybeld pie'."
"I see, I see."
Sliced into five, a crust of perfect golden brown and juicy sticky red green insides laid bare.
"Not a dessert guy… looks good."
"Exquisite attention to detail!"
"...I like it."
"Veritably attractive to the eyes."
The Host smiled for no reason.
As they all put a bit, the flavor.
Some tilted their heads.
Taking another bite gave the same thing.
"Nicely done." The Host wiped Their mouth.
The Assistant gauged Their reaction.
Speaking up right now seemed fine.
"It's kind of… bland."
"Heh? Oh, uh, yeah it is."
"What."
"I may not be a connoisseur in the arts of culinary…s. But I know me baking. I went to school. It doesn't have much besides the minor feeling the filling gives. Even then it's kind of. Not there."
"It does feel like that." the Merchant agreed.
The others nodded.
"What."
"Isn't there like, seasonings or like. Sugar."
"Uh… w-well. I-It's not…"
"I dunno maybe flip to the next page or something." The Host said absentmindedly while thinking of what number to write.
Selena's lips shut tight.
"I-It's fine…"
"I give a 7-1!" The Host proudly proclaimed. "Wait no, 7-4."
"8 and 2."
"7, 3."
"8 plus 4…"
"7 2."
The score became 42.
"And thus, Selena wins! How do you feel?"
"...."
"Well alright! Let's get Amos waymos back."
A loud snap resounded and a black shadow for the head whipped their head from the lack of sensation in their hands to the chattering voice.
"Woah. What happened to you?" So asked Derek.
The outfit was caked in liquids and semi solid matter.
The yellow eyes closed as a splitting mind ache forced them to grasp their head.
"This is why you don't accept what They give." the Assistant mumbled.
"N-eh did you say somethin?"
"Nope." the Assistant shook their head fast.
Six years and now the sight is showing even stranger things.
Is it from the memories?
Is it from the deaths?
"Nah."
The yellow opened. Narrowing as slits.
"How'd it go?"
"Horrible."
"Truly, an americana moment."
The Host stood up.
"That's all for today! Our judges as thanks for being nice, get a goood gift! See you next tiiiime!"
The curtains close again.
For when they open and the world watches, it's a new day.