Niwla and Gus froze, eyes locking onto the figure who had taunted them.

  It was Gary Stew.

  He sauntered toward them with the exaggerated swagger of a Monster Chef, twirling his knife between his fingers.

  "Typical monsters. Always thinking that they can escape my chopping board. Although…” His gaze shifted toward Niwla. "I guess one of you did escape, but was gracious enough to leave me a replacement."

  Niwla's mind was racing, trying to come up with a solution to their predicament. It was a tough feat, especially when the mind Alwin screaming his slime off at the sudden intrusion of the no-good Monster Chef.

  "Did you really think I wouldn't notice how you monsters miraculously stopped bleeding?"

  Gary Stew let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "All of those delicious juices, wasted. But what choice did I have? I had to find a compromise between keeping you as fresh as possible, draining the blood within a reasonable amount of time, and still making a dish delicious enough to be called creation of mine. People just don't get how much prep goes into making a true delicacy. They just expect food instantly, but with quality that takes hours of preparation."

  "I agree," Gus said in between bites of the muffins that the Spirit Hands had dug up from within his body.

  "Finally, a monster with sense. What a pity that I can't let you live. You would've made such a fine pet."

  "No thanks. I find the concept of being someone’s pet personally degrading," Gus said.

  "Fair enough." Gary Stew shrugged.

  "Now, how many am I going to explain a change in menu to those two buffoons?" Gary Stew scratched his chin in thought.

  "From Fire straight to"—Gary Stew sniffed the air, filtering out the various scents that permeated throughout the cart—"ice."

  Gary Stew let out a long and heavy sigh. "Why Ice, of all things? Sure, Turkey is more appealing than Ant, but they're the Crimson Gold Sect, not the Azure Gold Sect. Maybe I can explain myself out of this somehow."

  Gary Stew turned his gaze toward Niwla, his smile twisting with menace. "Say, why don't you be a good little birdie and tell me where that Fire Ant escaped to? Even better. Tell me where its nest is. If you do, I'll spare you."

  Niwla delivered an ice-cold glare to the Monster Chef. His lips were sealed. It was also because that Fire Ant's nest was none other than the Academy. Who knew what information the humans had about the city of Monsteria? Telling Gary Stew would be like offering an all-you-can-eat Hot Pot or BBQ Buffet—depending on whether he would boil or grill them alive.

  "C'mon, little birdie, aren't you going to tell me?"

  Niwla didn't even let out a peep.

  "No? Guess I'll have to spin my way out of this. Any suggestions?" he continued to taunt his caged prey.

  While Niwla refused to even entertain the man, mind Alwin kept bugging him. In order to get the unhelpful Slime to shut his trap, he indulged his counterpart.

  "Ice so cold, it burns," Niwla blurted out for Alwin.

  Gary’s eyes lit up. "A paradoxical explanation? It's more than enough to trick those two imbeciles. I like it. Thanks, little birdie."

  However, his further actions proved otherwise as he bent down toward Niwla. His blade slid between the gaps of the bars.

  Niwla backed up as far as he could go. His feathery behind smooshed up against the corner of his cage as the knife drew closer. Fear and panic coursed through his veins instead of blood.

  "You know what's a good thing about you, Ice Ice-type monsters?" Gary Stew brought the tip of his blade to the bottom of Niwla's chin. "All of that coldness helps to preserve your body. You'll still be so fresh after a couple of hours, it’ll be as if I had just slaughtered you."

  Gary Stew held out his free hand toward the back of the cart. A Frying Pan whooshed into his grip. He slid the pan through the gaps in the bars and placed it right below Niwla's head.

  "I get to drain you, collect your delicious juices, all while still travelling. Plus, you gave me a way to explain myself while helping to shorten my prep time, all without compromising on taste. You truly are a blessing. Thank you."

  Gary Stew brought his blade upwards, straight towards Niwla's neck.

  "Now!" Niwla shouted before the blade connected.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  An ear-splitting screech tore through the cart. It was like metal being ground down by something way tougher. The sound was so obscenely loud that the horses whined in distress, coming to a screeching halt. Both the yellow and red cultivators were bucked off their steeds.

  Gary Stew lost his balance from the sudden stoppage, falling forward in the process. The blade missed Niwla by a fraction of an inch.

  The source of the noise was none other than Gus. The flimsy metal cage was no match for Gus' teeth and appetite. Despite his ravenous nature, he possessed teeth so immaculately taken care of, a dentist would weep—that did happen before, during one of their routine health checkups, but that's an inconsequential story for another day.

  Gus was free from his metal confines, licking his lips after the delicious meal. But he was still famished. Thus, he lunged forward and gnawed on Niwla's own cage, swallowing the bars that barred Niwla from freedom.

  "Let's go!" Niwla shouted, flapping his wings as he hopped onto Gus' back.

  "Hey!" Gus yelped in surprise.

  "There's no time. Just go!"

  "Fine. But, you owe me." He huffed. "Hold on tight, mystery stranger."

  Electricity danced along his fur, lifting it like static. "Lightning Paws," he roared as sparks burst from his forelegs.

  How was Gus suddenly so competent?

  The truth was: he wasn’t. Niwla had been directing him this whole time. While Gary Stew was taunting him, Niwla had been sending commands to the Spirit Hands.

  The distracted Gary Stew didn't notice the Spirit Hands literally spelling out a message to Gus via the muffins that they had extracted from his furry body. It was a slow and arduous process, but eventually they spelled out, "When you hear the signal, eat the cages, then let's escape."

  Gus barreled out of the cart, giving Niwla a clear view of what awaited them.

  Surrounding the cart were the rest of the cultivators who were in the clearing. Even the two injured ones were there, their robes still damaged from his Fire Bite, serving as a reminder of their incompetence.

  They had spotted the pair of escaping monsters. After a brief pause of confusion, they drew their swords and began charging after them.

  Further back, the two young masters were riding on literal high horses. These were a pair of horses that were taller than a regular horse. Extra joints in their legs lengthened their limbs. Instead of going after the monsters, the young masters did what they did best.

  "What is the meaning of this!" Huang Jian yelled.

  "Impudence!" Hong Jian screamed.

  "Guards! After them!" they both shouted in unison. "And, Gary Stew! You better explain yourself!"

  The Monster Chef hopped off the cart, frying pan and knife in hand, visibly annoyed. "It seems that the ingredients were a bit too fresh."

  "Well, you better fix it then! I expect the freshest ingredients possible, for the best dish possible. You better not kill them until we return to the sect!" shouted Hong Jian.

  "If you insist," Gary Stew sighed.

  He took aim and hurled the frying pan with all of his might.

  "Pan Toss!"

  The cooking instrument hurtled through the air, spinning as it closed in on them.

  "I've got this. Just focus on running," Niwla said.

  He locked in on the spinning frying pan. All of the prep work that he had done inside his Core was finally coming to fruition. The icicles were unloaded from the giant freezer and into the cannons.

  "Ice Arrow!"

  Rows and columns of perfectly symmetrical icicles manifested in front of Niwla before racing forward toward the frying pan.

  Compared to the deluge of ice, the pan was just a speck of black. Most of the icicles rocketed past it, heading straight for the cultivators. In response, they stopped their chase and stood their ground. Together, they plunged their swords into the earth. A giant dome of fire and electricity was erected around them.

  "Crimson Gold Sect Fusion Technique: Lightning Flame Barrier!"

  The Ice Arrows collided with the barrier, melting instantaneously. At least the worst of their problems had been dealt with, or so Niwla thought.

  A spinning black disc emerged from the wave of ice. Niwla couldn't react in time. It struck him square on the head, knocking him off Gus. Then the pan returned back into the wave of Ice Arrows, disappearing into the sea of frozen blue.

  "Mystery stranger!" Gus yelled, turning back to pick up Niwla.

  "I'm alright," Niwla said. He, in fact, was not alright. Blood was leaking down his temple.

  Just as Niwla was about to get onto Gus' back, the frying pan came whirling back, slamming into the ground and blocking off his path.

  "Now, where do you think you're going?" Gary Stew’s voice came from behind them

  The frying pan zipped back into his grasp as he gave it a casual twirl. "You've got to love enchantments.”

  He wagged a finger at them. “Anyway, be a couple of good monsters and stop running around so much. You're ruining your meat."

  "Run," Niwla said. It was more of a whisper from his fading strength.

  "But—"

  “Go. Find Uchronia. If you don’t... we both die.”

  "Stranger..." Gus whimpered.

  "Saying your final prayers?" Gary Stew taunted, stepping forward. "Unfortunately, you’re going to have to delay those prayers. I can't kill you yet. But that doesn't mean I can't restrain you in my own way."

  "Go, Gus," Niwla snapped, summoning what little strength he had left.

  Gus pouted before running off using Lightning Paw.

  "Oh, no you don't.” Gary Stew lifted his arm. "Pan Toss."

  The frying pan was thrown toward Gus.

  Niwla, using the last remaining bit of strength, leaped into the air, intercepted the enchanted skillet. Several ribs cracked from the impact before he came crashing down onto the ground. He gasped, moments away from passing out from the pain.

  "Guess I'll deal with you first," Gary Stew said. "I don't like doing this because it's a waste of spices, but we don't want any more trouble now, do we?"

  He uncorked his spice bottles. Brown, violet, pink, gray, and black granules shimmered as they coated the edge of his blade.

  Once satisfied with the mix, he raised the knife high.

  “Thyme to Sleep.”

  For the second time today, the world faded to black.