The summoned bison stood before me, its massive form casting a faint shadow in the dim light that filtered through the cracks of the ruined warehouse. Its dark eyes reflected quiet understanding, as if it somehow knew the purpose for which it had been brought forth.
"Sorry, big guy," I said softly, drawing a long sword from my inventory. The blade shimmered faintly in the flickering glow of my mana, cold and sharp. "Need food for the patient in my care."
The bison lowered its head in what felt almost like a gesture of acceptance. I didn't hesitate. One clean stroke—swift and merciful—ended its life before it could feel pain. Its body slumped silently to the ground, and for a brief moment, the faint hum of my magic dissipated into the still air.
I stood there for a moment longer, letting the silence settle before moving. In a world like this, survival demanded practicality, not sentimentality. Still, I couldn't help but feel a faint pang of respect for the creature. Even a summons deserved acknowledgment.
Once the work was done, I got to butchering. My hands worked efficiently, separating the usable cuts from what would be discarded. The scent of fresh meat mingled with the faint metallic tang of blood. It wasn't pleasant, but it was necessary. Every movement was precise and methodical—a practiced routine learned through countless worlds and lifetimes.
Shalltear, of course, stood a few feet away, watching with an expression that mixed curiosity and distaste. Her parasol rested beside her, and her crimson eyes glimmered in the faint light as she finally spoke.
I didn't know why she is even holding that parasol in the night.
"My lord," she began, her voice dripping with disapproval, "surely, a Supreme Being such as yourself shouldn't have to… do this kind of dirty work. Allow me to summon lesser undead to handle it."
I chuckled, not looking up from what I was doing. "If I wanted speed, I'd have cooked it with magic and been done in minutes. But we have time. And besides," I said, wiping the blade clean on a rag, "there's something satisfying about doing it the old-fashioned way once in a while."
She huffed lightly, folding her arms. "Even so, my lord… you demean yourself by performing such menial labor. To think that you—a Supreme Being—would stain your hands with blood for the sake of cooking…"
Her words trailed off when she noticed the faint grin tugging at the corner of my lips. "You're still talking, Shalltear," I said teasingly.
That earned me a faint pout, though she obeyed my unspoken request and began helping regardless. Her movements were elegant even in something so mundane. With a sigh of exaggerated displeasure, she floated up lightly, plucking broken wood from nearby debris and piling it neatly beside me.
"I cannot understand you sometimes," she muttered. "Other Supreme Beings preferred their servants to do every trivial task for them, yet you insist on working yourself."
"That's probably why I'm still sane," I replied, arranging the wood and striking a spark. Flames crackled to life, dancing in the shadows of the ruined building. The warm orange glow contrasted with the faint blue hue of the storm outside, creating an almost serene atmosphere.
Shalltear knelt gracefully beside me as I set the meat over the fire. The smell of roasting flesh soon filled the air, cutting through the faint decay of the ruined city. For a while, we said nothing. The sound of crackling fire and soft wind was the only thing that filled the silence.
Eventually, Shalltear broke it again, her voice softer now. "It's… strange," she said quietly. "Seeing you like this. Calm. Doing something so ordinary. It feels… almost peaceful."
I smiled faintly, tending to the fire. "Peaceful, huh? Maybe that's what we need right now. A little peace before the next storm."
She looked at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she lowered herself beside me, sitting close enough that her shoulder brushed against mine. "Then I shall stay here, my lord," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "To share in your peace."
The warmth of the fire flickered between us, reflecting softly in her crimson eyes. Outside, the storm rumbled faintly, but inside the ruined warehouse, everything felt still.
The scent of cooking meat mingled with smoke and the faint trace of damp air. It wasn't the finest meal I'd ever prepared—far from it—but as I watched the flames curl upward, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of contentment.
"Hah, finally free from my old place." I murmur to myself.
I still remember that packed liquid food I used to eat back on old Earth.
I know why Shalltear is complaining about the labor work. And if I want, I can do what Momonga did back in the anime world. I can also put on an act.
But that's not who I am. All this power I acquired is to become true to myself, not to hide my true self.
~~~
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