The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Randy pressed their lips together, feeling tears forming in their eyes from pain and anxiety. And how close they seemed to be proving themselves to be a burden, once again. With just a moment of wavering attention, everything would fall to pieces.

The pieces of bacon fried just below their hands, grease hissing and spitting in those small spaces between meat and metal. Randy’s hand stayed near while the Skill remained activated, leaching away a strange vital piece of something from the meat. At the monkey’s instruction, they kept the presence constant.

“Stormshadow tells me that while your power can hurt something, it can also purify it,” Takeyhands had said, cartwheeling around Randy after it had brought her firewood, a pan, and some raw meat. Randy tried not to show how confused they were, just follow the directions. “The System slathers a certain sort of image over everything. It cakes all of us like a thick layer of makeup, trying to convince anything willing to listen that there will be growth and improvement.

“That’s fine. Growth and improvement are fine. But there are also times where the extraneous layers aren’t necessary; cooking is one of those times. So if you keep your Skill activated at a medium level, you scoop out the ancillary stuff and leave the substance. So just… skim a bit off the top. Constantly, for a few minutes.”

Above the pan, Randy chewed their lips. A tremor had taken up residence in their hand, meaning that occasionally the soft skin of their palm dipped too near the heat. Yet Randy did their best not to falter. They had been working with Takeyhands for nearly two days, while the caravan continued to languish in the badlands.

Bethyl’s mood had turned increasingly sour toward Randy during that time; the longer they stayed here without the influx of new cash into the environment, the less she could earn. So the time up in the hills kept them from being yelled at and also prevented any further rejection. Randy desperately tried to at least do something right. For one small second, they hoped not to be a burden.

Today, Randy would make Bethyl bacon.

Congratulations! Your Skill Thirst of the Charcoal Predator (L) has grown to Level 91!

Takeyhands paused in its cartwheels and stuck its small face close to the pan. It sucked in a deep breath and then smiled widely. “Good! Good! That’s a good smell. Mmm, it makes me want to celebrate!”

And, as Randy had learned, Takeyhands wasn’t one to refuse to celebrate whenever even the smallest opportunity presented itself. It immediately produced a half dozen glittering objects and began to juggle, sending all the small pieces tumbling in the air in some mesmerizing pattern. The small monkey possessed incredibly dextrous fingers and grace.

But when she got a clear look at the objects that the monkey possessed, Randy felt ill. “Those… coins…? Why do you have so many-”

Randy blinked several times as the monkey continued to juggle. They didn’t even recognize some of the larger coins that the monkey had produced. Takeyhands hooted in amusement, snatching the coins out of the air and making them vanish before Randy’s eyes. Then it pointed over at the pan. “Well, if I don’t have coins, how am I going to buy more meat when you do that?”

Randy whipped their head around, horror already warping their features. Sure enough, the thirty seconds were enough to burn the bacon in the pan. It wasn’t too bad yet, but the thin strips of fatty meat were curling in on themselves, tortured from overexposure to heat. Randy hastily heaved the pan off of the stand, moving so quickly that drops of grease spattered on their arms. Randy dropped the pan in the dirt, letting the ground cool the sizzling metal.

Takeyhands waved a paw before it scampered away. “Don’t worry about it. We can always try again! Believe me, Stormshadow is a big spender. I’ll go find some more and we can make another attempt.”

Which left Randy alone with the cooling pan and the burnt bacon. When the flecks of grease on the meat wounded scar and burn immediately, Randy tipped it on its side and poured out the grease. But they were careful to keep the pieces of food. The food went into their mouth.

What had once been bacon now tasted like chalk and inhaling salted smoke.

When Takeyhands returned, it paused next to the empty pan. It held another haunch of meat in its arms, almost as large as its body. “Did you eat it the failures again? Are you really that hungry?”

Randy forced themselves to nod, even though it felt like a chunk of the gritty meat was stuck in their throat. No matter if they were full or not, they were not going to throw away the meat, not when it was their fault it wasn’t good.

Randy refused to let any proof they were a burden linger around.

The monkey chittered but shrugged. Then it used a stick to poke the fire back into wakefulness and soon they were practicing using Randy’s Skill once again. It had to be applied carefully, starting before the preparation and then through the cooking, according to the cloud. So the entire process was a giant, elongated gauntlet of tension that left Randy trembling.

The next attempt ended in failure, but in a very different manner; Randy’s thoughts wandered and the Skill began to take more than just the added image fragments from the System. The meat ended up cooked to a satisfying degree, but a dull grey had crept into its edges and it seemed more spongy than could be explained by being soaked in grease.

Randy had to crouch on their knees for several seconds after forcing those bits of bacon down, suppressing the urge to vomit.

However, inexplicably, incredibly, in an attempt that Randy spent trying not to think about their stomach, something special happened. After a few minutes, when Randy carefully lowered the pan and poured out the grease, the bacon laying in the pan seemed to shimmer. The previously small object seemed larger than life.

“What happened? Cooking can’t do something like this.” Randy muttered. They inhaled and the scent of perfectly fragrant pork drove away all of their nausea.

Even Takeyhands leaned close over the pan, its tiny fingers flexing. It had to gulp down a mouthful of saliva before it could speak. “This… wow. I mean honestly, I thought Stormchaser was insane, saying a tiny human like you could make any sort of food worth eating. But if I could produce food like this… the mates that I would have…”

Randy flushed, but the sensation wasn’t unpleasant. True to its name, the monkey’s hands began to twitch and extend toward the alluring bacon. “I’ll just-”

“No!” Randy snatched the four pieces out of the pan, burning their fingers on the grease. Seeing Takeyhands’ pained expression. They hesitated and then ripped a piece of meat in half. Giving it to the monkey and then hurrying away with the rest.

Randy placed the other half piece into their own mouth, reasoning that they didn’t want to risk being wrong about how good the food was. The meat sang to their tastebuds, hinting at a regal sweetness and a savory crunch. Randy moaned, then clapped a hand over their mouth. After they finished chewing, they began to bound down the hill that had become their usual haunt, not even caring that such exaggerated actions drew attention from the hard-eyed individuals around the campfires.

Besides, when the food smelled this good, better to hurry before some of these hungry people caught a whiff.

Randy’s hands twitched around the bacon, grease dripping between their fingers as they ran. The digits were locked into a rigid-flex, desperate not to drop the precious cargo but also fearful that excitement would squeeze the meat to mush. The combination had Randy’s heart pounding as they reached Bethyl’s small wagon. The door was closed, but it was early in the day; Bethyl was probably just getting ready.

Randy pushed the door open with their shoulder. “Bethyl! Look what I-”

Randy froze. Bethyl lay slumped against the far wall, blood oozing from her wounds. Several candles flickered in holders along the cheap interior wall. Daggers stuck out of her palms and shoulder, pinning her in place.

A carpet of sticky wine spread out underneath her.

Randy saw their father, being gored by the massive boar. Then a hand landed on their shoulder, snapping Randy back to the present. A slightly nasally voice spoke. “Easy now, kiddo. It looks bad, but we have the System. This shit will heal- ah, maybe you’ve never seen your mother at work before?”

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