The atmosphere in the base shifted from one of studious calm to a tense, orderly retreat. Researchers packed delicate instruments and priceless samples into shock-proof cases, their conversations hushed and urgent. The shadow of the winged predator loomed over everyone, even those who hadn't seen the slaughter site. Fear was a scent on the air, sharper than the formaldehyde from the labs.
In the midst of this controlled chaos, Menchi carved out a pocket of defiant celebration. She commandeered the base's largest outdoor grill pit, declaring it her "victory kitchen." With Buhara as her serene, immovable assistant and Kevin as a curious (and strong-backed) helper, she set to work transforming their massive haul.
Kevin watched, fascinated, as Menchi's Nen flared to life not in combat, but in culinary art. Her aura didn't manifest as weapons or shields, but as extensions of her tools. A shimmering, heat-intensive Ren enveloped the grill, searing the Great-Nosed Boar's thick hide to a perfect, crackling crisp in moments, locking in juices. Her knives, coated in a razor-thin layer of Shu, moved with supernatural precision, deboning a deer with a series of fluid flicks that left the meat perfectly intact and the skeleton clean enough for a museum display.
"The key is respect for the ingredient," she explained, not looking up from her work as she massaged a blend of crushed wetland herbs and minerals into boar flesh. Her Nen seemed to guide the seasoning into the very fibers of the meat. "Your aura should enhance what's already there, not overwhelm it. It's a dialogue."
Buhara's role was that of the ultimate sensor. He would lean over a simmering pot, his eyes closed, his immense aura not projecting outwards but turning incredibly receptive. "The marrow broth needs three more minutes," he'd rumble. "The collagen hasn't fully broken down into umami. And add a pinch of the blue salt from the northern rock. It will balance the fat from the boar belly."
When the feast was finally laid out on a long trestle table, it was a staggering display. Whole roasted boars glistening with herb crusts, impossibly tender venison steaks, fragrant fish steamed in giant leaves, and a central, stunning centerpiece: the Ichigo-Gamera strawberries, lightly caramelized with a blowtorch application of Menchi's Nen, served atop a savory, mineral-rich pâté.
As they ate under the twilight sky, the mood lightened. The food was more than sustenance; it was a testament to life, skill, and joy in the face of looming danger. Each bite of the strawberry was a complex explosion of the wetland's essence—sweet, tart, earthy, and utterly unique.
"This," Kevin said around a mouthful of perfectly cooked fish that melted on his tongue, "is a different kind of power. You two… you don't just cook. You translate an ecosystem onto a plate."
Menchi grinned, grease smudged on her cheek. "Told you we were worth knowing. So, about that potion trade network of yours…"
The conversation turned to the future, to exchanges of materials and knowledge, to the Hunter Exam, and to the roads they might travel after. The unnamed monster was a dark parenthesis around their gathering, acknowledged but temporarily held at bay by the fellowship and the phenomenal meal.
Later, as Kevin helped clean up, a researcher handed him a sealed data chip. "From Begel," the man said quietly. "Satellite uplink data from the last week. Thermal signatures. He said you might find it… instructive."
Back in his room, Kevin slotted the chip into his laptop. Scrolling through the time-lapse thermal images, his blood ran cold. A massive, bird-like heat signature—far larger than any known raptor—wasn't just roaming randomly. Its movement patterns formed a rough, deliberate circle around the central bog where they'd found the strawberries and the massacre. And in the past 48 hours, that circle had begun to tighten, its center shifting slowly, inexorably, towards the coordinates of the research base itself.
The creature wasn't just a mindless killer. It was intelligent, patient, and it was hunting. Not for food, but to cleanse its new territory. The base was next.
Kevin looked at the half-eaten, exquisite strawberry on his desk, then back at the pulsing red heat-blob on his screen. The contrast was absolute. The world offered its most delicate wonders and its most brutal terrors in the same breath. He packed his gear with a new, grim focus. The time for feasting and casual exploration was over. The Hunter Exam was no longer just a personal milestone; it was a necessary step to gain the credentials, the resources, and perhaps the allies he would need to one day face the darkness that was now, quite literally, circling closer. He had to get stronger, fast. The wetland had given him a taste of both heaven and hell. He intended to be prepared for whichever one he met next.
Kevin's mind, always analyzing, spun into overdrive even as he savored the perfectly charred, herb-infused boar rib. The efficiency of digestion wasn't just a matter of comfort; it was a matter of conversion. A Hunter's body was a furnace, and high-quality fuel that burned cleanly and quickly meant faster recovery, more sustained energy for training or combat. The Digestive Potion accelerated the process artificially, but this food… Menchi and Buhara were using Nen to pre-digest the ingredients at a molecular level, breaking down tough fibers and complex fats into forms the body could assimilate with minimal effort.
"It's bio-alchemy," Kevin muttered, almost to himself, staring at the glistening meat on his skewer. "You're not just cooking; you're pre-processing raw biological material into an optimized state for human consumption and Nen conversion."
Begel, taking a swig of beer, nodded. He'd seen this before with Gourmet Hunters. "Their entire discipline is built on it. They understand that for a Hunter, food isn't just pleasure; it's fuel, medicine, and sometimes, a temporary enhancement. The best of them can make a meal that acts like a low-grade, side-effect-free enhancement potion for a few hours."
Kevin's eyes widened. That was it. The synergy he'd been instinctively seeking. His potions were potent, specialized, but they were also intrusive—foreign energies introduced into the system. This cuisine was foundational. It strengthened the system from the ground up, optimizing the body's natural processes. A Digestive Potion used after this meal wouldn't just speed up breakdown; it would turbocharge the absorption of this incredibly refined fuel.
He looked across the fire at Menchi, who was arguing good-naturedly with a researcher about the optimal sear on wetland tubers, and at Buhara, whose serene smile never left his face as he turned an entire haunch of venison over flames he controlled with minute bursts of aura.
"A partnership," Kevin said, the idea crystallizing. "Not just trading materials. A collaboration. My potions could address specific, acute needs—burst strength, forced healing, Nen transformation. Their cuisine could provide the sustained, holistic optimization to make the body more receptive to those potions, and to recover from their strain." The implications for his training regimen, and for any future team he might work with, were enormous.
Begel followed his gaze and understood. "They're young, ambitious, and building their reputations. You have a unique, valuable skill. A proposal from you after the Exam, when you have your license… they'd listen. Especially if it involves rare ingredients."
The barbecue continued late into the night, a bubble of light and laughter against the vast, watchful dark of the wetlands. But for Kevin, the meal had transformed. Each bite was data. Each flavor was a clue to a deeper understanding of Nen's interaction with the physical world. The monster in the swamp represented one kind of power—raw, terrifying, elemental. But this feast represented another: the power of refinement, of symbiosis, of turning the world's bounty into a form that elevated the consumer.
As the embers died down and people began to drift off to their tents or quarters, Kevin approached Menchi and Buhara. He held up his empty skewer like a toast.
"That was incredible. Truly. You've given me… a lot to think about. About how different types of Hunters can complement each other."
Menchi wiped her hands on her apron, a smug grin on her face. "Finally getting it, huh? We're not just fancy cooks. We're force multipliers."
"Indeed," Buhara agreed. "A well-fed Hunter is a resilient Hunter. We look forward to seeing what kind of Hunter you become, Kevin. And perhaps…" he patted his stomach, "…to tasting the fruits of your future concoctions."
It was a promise, vague but real, exchanged under a starry sky. The immediate future was clear: evacuation at first light, then focused preparation for the Hunter Exam. But beyond that, Kevin's path had gained new texture. He wasn't just walking towards a license. He was walking towards a role—as a pharmacist who understood that the best elixirs weren't just drunk, but were sometimes eaten off a plate, shared among allies under the open sky, a quiet defiance against the lurking shadows of the world.
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