They walked back to Oakhaven. Barely.
The [Level 3] pop-up and its glorious all-healing golden light had fixed Dante's broken ribs.
But it had not, he discovered, fixed the fifty-seven other muscles he'd pulled, strained, or bruised by [Haste]-dodging a 400-pound Hobgoblin, though.
The buff wasn't a perfect.
By the time they reached the crude wooden gates of Oakhaven, Dante felt like he had a full-body buff-hangover.
His joints ached. His head throbbed.
He was exhausted in a way that went bone-deep.
He was also, he realized, covered in mud, sweat, and a fine spray of Hobgoblin blood.
The "triumphant return" had been a muted grim affair.
Thomas, the guard at the gate, had seen them coming, his face pale.
"By the... Justicar's... beard," he'd whispered. "You're... alive."
Dante, too tired to be cheerful, had just nodded at Shivvy.
"The club," he'd rasped.
Shivvy, her face pale, had dutifully produced the [Hobgoblin Chieftain's Club] from her [Inventory]. It appeared in a glitched-light poof and thudded into the mud at the guard's feet.
The seven-foot tree-trunk-sized weapon spoke for itself.
Then, Dante had fished the dented silver [Brooch] from his new trouser pocket.
He held it out.
Minutes later, Thomas had run to get the Reeve.
Reeve Murdoch, his face grim, had pushed through the small crowd of terrified villagers.
He had seen the club, and the blood, and Dante's party.
His eyes then landed on the brooch in Dante's outstretched hand.
The Reeve just taken it. He'd stared at it for a long silent moment, his iron-grey beard trembling, before closing his fist around it so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
He looked at Dante, filled with a profound respect.
After this and that, he finally paid them.
A heavy bag of silver coins had been pressed into Dante's hand.
"The ruins are clear," Murdoch had said, his voice a low rumble. "Oakhaven... is in your debt."
He'd looked at the three women standing behind Dante. The new kind-faced one. The terrified and blood-soaked one. The pink and pouting alien one.
"...The Adventurer's Rest. Food. Lodging. On me. For... as long as you need."
And with that, he had turned and walked away, the locket still clutched in his fist.
***
Now, they were home.
Home was the same single-room at the Adventurer's Rest. The thrill of victory, the [Level 3], all of it was gone.
All that was left was the crash.
Dante slumped onto the rickety wooden stool, the bag of silver landing on the table with a thud that felt final.
He was sore.
He thought, 'My party was a mess.'
Rin-Rin was in full "diva" mode, furious that the Reeve hadn't thrown them a parade.
"He didn't even praise me! Not one 'thank you, Rin-Rin, for your platinum performance'! Zero stars! This whole village is zero stars!"
Shivvy was... gone. Not literally. She was sitting on the cot, her knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.
Hana had cleaned her face and hands, but she was still seemed absent.
She was just staring at the wall, her eyes blank and her face pale.
Hana, the new "Mom," was the only one who seemed functional. She was quietly unpacking a bedroll Dante hadn't even known she had.
A knock came at their door.
The innkeeper, a nervous balding man named Gordy, poked his head in.
"Ah... Lord Mages...?" he stammered, his eyes wide with terror and respect. "The Reeve... he paid for your... uh... supper. And.. the 'best in the house'!"
He scurried in, carrying a wooden tray.
On it were four bowls of the same grey and watery "pottage" they'd had before.
Dante's stomach, which had been a hollow, aching void, just rebelled.
The smell of it (salty, thin, and slightly burnt) made him nauseous.
Rin-Rin looked at the bowl placed in front of her and gagged.
A real "diva" gag.
"Ehhhh?"
She shrieked, recoiling.
"This is the 'victory feast'? It looks like mud! It looks like what the ugly fan was made of! I am NOT eating this! It's bad for my sparkle! It's bad for my skin! I demand my rider!"
"Rin-Rin, just... eat it," Dante groaned, his head in his hands.
"I won't!"
Gordy the innkeeper looked like he was about to cry.
Dante looked at Shivvy. A bowl was in front of her. She wasn't even looking at it. Her eyes were fixed on the wall, her entire body trembling, lost in the memory of the kill.
'My party was broken.'
His "DPS" was on strike, and his "Rogue" was traumatic lttle girl.
He was a failure as a leader.
And then, a new voice.
Calm. Gentle. Warm.
"My apologies, sir," Hana said, standing up.
She placed a gentle hand on the innkeeper's arm.
Gordy fltched, but she just smiled. It was a maternal smile.
"You're very generous," she said, her voice like warm honey.
"But my husband... and his, ah... 'artists'... they have very specific dietary needs. For their performances."
She was learning. She was adapting.
Gordy was just confused. "Dietary... needs?"
"Oh, yes," Hana said, her face a mask of polite, professional concern.
"Terribly sensitive. The pink one gets hives. And the little one... needs soft foods. It's all very complicated."
Dante just stared.
'Wow, she was a brilliant liar.'
"Ummm," Hana continued, her smile never wavering, "Would you mind, terribly, if I just... used your kitchen for a moment? I always bring my own ingredients. It would be no trouble at all."
Gordy, who had been expecting a pink-haired tantrum, was now faced with this impossibly polite, sane, and competent woman.
He was so relieved, he would have given her the whole inn.
"The kitchen? Y-yes, ma'am! Of course, ma'am! Be my guest! It's... it's just through the back!"
"Thank you, you're a lifesaver," Hana said.
She turned to the party.
"Husband," she said, her voice practical. "I'll need my supplies."
She turned to Shivvy. She didn't shake her. She just knelt, gently touching the girl's knee.
"Shivvy, dear. I need you to be my assistant. Can you do that? It's a very important job. I just need you to hand me things. From your... inventory."
Shivvy, who hadn't responded to anything, slowly... slowly... a flicker of... something.
A task.
She gave a tiny nod.
***
The inn's kitchen was a small room with a massive wood-fired hearth.
Dante just sat on a stool in the corner, holding his aching head, and watched.
Hana was in her spectrum.
She tied back her hair. She washed her hands.
Right now, she was a Master.
"Alright, Husband," she said, "This won't take a moment. Shivvy, dear, if you please...?"
Shivvy, standing stiffly by her side, held out a trembling hand.
"First," Hana said, "the meat. The [Good Quality] cuts."
Blink.
A stack of dark red and perfectly-butchered [Hobgoblin Haunch] appeared in Shivvy's hand. (Hana had [Harvested] it herself.)
"Wonderful. Now the [Stolen Grain]...?"
Blink.
A bag of [Poor Quality] grain.
"And... the [Wild Herbs] I picked up on the road...?"
Blink.
A bundle of green fragrant herbs.
Hana just... worked.
It wasn't just "cooking."
It was almost art.
Her hands were a blur.
Her [Farming (Master)] skill, Dante realized, wasn't just about "farming." It was about processing.
She slapped the bag of [Poor Quality] grain on the table.
A [System] message flashed in Dante's interface:
[Hana is using 'Skill: Refine Grain'!]
Her hands moved, sifting, tossing. The chaff, the mold, the dirt... suddenly separated.
[Grain (Poor Quality)] -> [Grain (Common)].
She didn't stop. She milled it. With a rock and a board.
[Grain (Common)] -> [Fine Flour].
Then, the [Hobgoblin Haunch]. It was "Good Quality." But...
[Hana is using 'Skill: Tenderize'!]
She wasn't just tenderizing it. She was perfecting it.
[Hobgoblin Haunch (Good)] -> [Hobgoblin Filet (Rare)].
Dante's jaw was on the floor.
She was a "Farmer." A crafting-mule. She was turning his trash-loot into high-tier ingredients.
She worked for twenty minutes.
The smell...
"Oh, god, the smell…"
It wasn't just good food. It was rich, savory, and complex.
"...the smell of home."
It wafted from the kitchen.
In the common room, Dante could hear Rin-Rin's pouting stop. Mid-rant.
He heard the two grizzled farmers at the far table turned silent.
Gordy the innkeeper was standing in the doorway, his eyes closed, just inhaling.
Hana wiped her hands on her apron.
"There," she said, pulling a massive bubbling pot of... something... from the hearth.
"That should do."
***
She returned to their table.
The grey pottage was gone.
In its place, Hana set down three deep ceramic bowls of a stew.
It was a "Hearty Monster & Grain Stew."
The broth was a deep, rich, and golden-brown.
The meat was snow-white and tender.
The grains were plump and golden. A single bright-green herb was floated on top.
She set a bowl in front of Dante, in front of Rin-Rin, and the last bowl in front of Shivvy.
Rin-Rin was speechless.
She just... stared at it.
She looked at Hana. She looked at Dante.
Then, she picked up her spoon.
Without took long enough, she took a bite.
Almost instantly, her eyes sparkled.
Dante wasn't imagining it.
A literal anime glittery-sparkle effect appeared in her eyes.
She didn't say anything.
She just attacked the bowl, her movements fast, desperate, and, for the first time, completely silent.
Shivvy was harder, though.
She just stared at the stew. Her hands were shaking.
Hana sat next to her. She didn't force it ro Shivvy.
She took her own small bowl.
"It's just stew, dear," she said, taking a small bite.
"It's warm. And it'll make you feel better."
Shivvy watched her. She watched Dante.
Dante picked up his own spoon.
The [Haste]-hangover. The pain. The exhaustion.
He took a bite.
"Oh...….."
It was a potion.
It was an explosion of flavor... savory, salty, rich, warmth.
The warmth... it flooded his entire body.
It was a [Level-Up Heal], but slow.
The soreness in his muscles... receded.
The pounding in his head... faded.
He felt... strong. He felt good.
He took another bite.
And his interface flashed, bright blue and gold.
[SYSTEM: You have consumed 'Hana's Serene Valley Stew' (RARE)!]
[SYSTEM: You are affected by the [Gourmet Meal] Buff (23:59:59)]
[All Stats +10% (Temporary)][HP & MP Regeneration +20% (Temporary)][STATUS: 'Fatigue (Haste-Hangover)' REMOVED]
Dante stared at his interface.
His [Regen]... his new [Base: 10/hr]... was now... +12/hr?
His [Stats]... all... +10%?
He looked at Shivvy.
She was watching him. She saw the look on his face.
Then, she looked down at her own bowl.
Slowly... tremblingly... she picked up her spoon, and took a tiny bird-like sip.
A hiccup escaped her.
And she took another. And another.
And as Dante watched, his interface, which he was still staring at, updated again.
[SYSTEM: Party Member 'Shivvy' has consumed 'Hana's Serene Valley Stew'!]
[STATUS: 'Trauma (Minor)' SUPPRESSED]
Dante stopped breathing.
He looked at his party.
Rin-Rin was silent and happy, her face in her bowl.
Shivvy was eating, the [Status: Traumatized] gone, replaced by [Status: Contented].
Hana was just... smiling. A gentle smile, as she watched her "kids" finally eat.
DLante looked at Hana.
He had thought he'd summoned a "utility" character. A "Mom." A non-combatant.
And he'd been wrong.
He had been obsessed with his Level 50 scalpel. Or his Level 20 nuke.
But Hana... Hana, the Level 45 Farmer...
She wasn't just "Support."
She was a hyper-buffer. She was a gourmet-chef.
She was, he realized, with a dawning profound sense of awe...
...the single most overpowered character in his entire party.
The Creator had just found his real superstar.
'My wife…'