Lana's eyes light up as she stirred the stew, her hands gesturing animatedly.

  "You should've seen the transparent moss we found in that dungeon," Lana exclaimed. "It grew in these patterns along the walls, and when light hit it just right, the whole cavern sparkled like stars."

  "Transparent moss?" Elara asked, carefully adding chopped rainroot to the pot.

  "Oh yes! The longer a dungeon exists, the more it changes everything inside it. Plants adapt, mutate, become something entirely new." Lana's ponytail fell over her shoulder. "During my last expedition camp, we found these incredible luminous fungi. They'd grown around mana tense stone and absorbed their properties. The Alchemist went crazy for those. Apparently, they made potent healing potions once brewed."

  Elara paused her chopping. "So, the dungeon changes the plants?"

  "Changes everything! The mana seeps into the very walls, transforms whatever's inside. Sometimes it's subtle, like herbs becoming more potent or aging them. Other times..." Lana's voice dropped to a whisper of awe. "Other times, you find things that shouldn't exist at all. Like flowers that bloom in complete darkness, or vines that respond to sound."

  "That sounds unpredictable," Elara observed.

  Lana nodded vigorously. "Oh, it absolutely is! That's why we always go with experienced teams. But the risk is worth it. Some of these mutations are invaluable for crafting. Last time, we found this thorny vine that had somehow merged with metal deposits in the wall. The blacksmiths used it to create the most incredible flexible armor you've ever seen."

  Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Elara found herself drawn into Lana's descriptions of bizarre plant life and magical mutations.

  Lana continued her tales, but movement at the camp's edge caught her attention. A group emerged from the forest, one limping heavily while supported by companions. They made their way to the tent they had met Alaric Valemont.

  More groups trickled in over the next hour. Some bore obvious wounds, torn clothing, makeshift bandages, and grimacing faces. Others appeared untouched but exhausted. Each group sent at least one member to the Valemont tent, presumably to report their findings.

  The aroma of the stew drew adventurers to their cooking spot. Elara noticed something odd about their behavior. Before speaking, each person's gaze lingered on Lana for a brief moment, as if assessing her.

  "How much for a bowl?" A burly woman asked, her armor caked with dirt.

  "one silver piece," Lana replied, stirring the pot.

  After the third person exhibited the same studying look, Elara asked. "Why do they all stare at you before asking about the stew?"

  Lana's lips quirked into a half-smile. "They're checking my level. People want to know if the cook is skilled enough to make it worth their coins."

  "Does your level affect the taste?" Elara frowned. "Does being higher level automatically make food better?"

  Lana let out a laugh at the question. "You'll find out once you get a taste," she said with a grin.

  Elara, intrigued, glanced at the steaming stew and wondered what exactly made it different.

  "But no," Lana continued, jotting down the names of those interested. "Level doesn’t directly change the taste, but it could indicates experience. And experience means a better understanding of ingredients, cooking methods, and flavor combinations."

  As the stew continued to cook, people gathered around the fire, each holding a bowl.

  Elara noticed the varying quality of the bowls. Some were intricately carved, with smooth, polished surfaces. Others were rough and uneven, their edges chipped and worn.

  Lana waved her over, gesturing to the growing line of adventurers. "Give each person two scoops," she instructed, handing her a ladle.

  Lana with her ledger in hand, took her place beside Elara, her eyes scanning the crowd. "Alright, listen up," she called out, her voice cutting through the chatter. "If you've already paid for your meal, come forward and get your stew. If not, you'll have to wait until everyone else has been served."

  The adventurers murmured amongst themselves, some nodding in understanding while others grumbled under their breath. One by one, they approached Lana, their names checked off the list as they received their meals.

  Elara stepped forward to serve the hungry crowd. She carefully ladled the steaming stew into each bowl, trying to keep her hands steady as she worked. The adventurers murmured their thanks, their eyes fixed hungrily on the food.

  She couldn't help but admire the way Lana managed the crowd.

  As the last of the paying adventurers received their stew, Lana turned to the remaining group. "Alright, if you haven't paid yet, come forward and settle up with me. One silver pieces for a bowl of stew."

  One by one. They approached Lana, their coins clinking as they dropped them into her outstretched hand. She carefully counted each payment, marking it down in her ledger with a twist of her quill.

  Elara watched as the adventurers handed over their silver coins, wondering about the value of the currency. She had little reference for the cost of goods and services in this world, and the price of a single bowl of stew seemed steep. Interest made her turn to Lana, asking quietly, "Why does it cost one silver coin?"

  Lana glanced at her, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Are you asking why it's so expensive and why people are willing to pay for it?" she replied, scooping up a spoonful of the rich, fragrant stew from the pot.

  Before Elara could answer, Lana held the spoon toward her, steam curling lazily from the hearty mixture. "Here, taste it for yourself," Lana said, her tone both teasing and inviting.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Elara hesitated for a moment before leaning forward to take the offered bite. The flavors burst on her tongue, earthy, savory, and tinged with subtle spices she couldn’t identify. Warmth spread through her chest, and she couldn’t help but let out a small, surprised hum of approval.

  "See?" Lana said, her smile widening as she scooped another spoonful. "That’s why they’re willing to pay. It’s not just food, it’s an experience. This stew has ingredients that don’t just nourish the body but also awaken the spirit. And when it’s made with the right hands..." She held another spoonful out to Elara, waiting for her reaction as if testing her theory.

  Elara accepted the second bite, the comforting heat and vibrant flavors sinking in. She marveled at how each ingredient seemed to complement the next, creating a blend of energy and calm that was almost tangible. As she swallowed, a strange vitality seemed to stir within her, leaving her momentarily speechless.

  As she swallowed, a notification appeared in her vision:

  System Notification: Status Update

  You are affected by the Flavor of Vitality status effect

  Duration: 2 hours

  Effect: The meal, infused with the care and expertise of a skilled Artisan, grants the consumer a temporary boost to mana and stamina regeneration.

  Elara's eyes widened in surprise. She had never considered that food could have such a great effect. It made sense now why the adventurers pay a silver coin for a single bowl of stew. She only had two spoonfuls and already had two hours of increased regeneration. She wondered what a whole bowl would bring.

  Lana chuckled, catching the look in her eyes. "You feel it, don’t you? That’s the touch of an artisan," she said with a wink. "It’s not just cooking, it’s crafting something alive."

  "That is incredible Lana," Elara breathed, her voice filled with awe. "I had no idea that food could have such an effect on a person."

  Lana chuckled, a hint of pride in her eyes as she waved off the compliment. "Oh, this is nothing compared to what Kurda can do," she said, her tone light and playful. "He's the real master here. I'm just here to level up my skills by serving the adventurers."

  With a fluid motion, Lana placed the bowl she had been feeding Elara from into her hands, her touch firm yet gentle. "Its yours," she said with a soft smile before turning her attention to the fire.

  Reaching down, Lana lifted the pot from its place over the flames, balancing it effortlessly on her hip. Elara's fingers twitched as if she could feel the lingering heat herself. That pot had to be scorching, fresh from the fire—but Lana didn’t flinch. No hiss of pain, no tightening of her grip. Her hands remained steady, her face serene, as if she were handling nothing more than a cool clay bowl.

  "I’ll take care of this," Lana said casually, her voice unbothered, as though hefting a hot pot was just another part of her day. Elara couldn’t help but stare.

  "I’ll take this back to be cleaned," Lana said, her voice snapping her out of her momentary daze. "You just focus on eating and then rest."

  Elara nodded absently, her thoughts adrift in quiet admiration. She didn’t notice the approaching figure until a faint rustle of movement pulled her back to the present. Only then did she realize someone was standing beside her, waiting for her attention.

  She turned, the bowl of stew cradled in her hands, and found herself face to face with the pink-haired man from the day before. Now that he was closer, she could see his light, leaf-green eyes set against porcelain skin, even lighter than her own. His unusual hair color seemed to shimmer in the firelight, drawing her gaze.

  The man cleared his throat, a subtle attempt to redirect her attention. She felt a flush of embarrassment, realizing she had been staring, but she couldn't help but appreciate the man's unique beauty.

  "Is there any stew left?" he asked, his voice slow and stilted, as if he were carefully choosing each word.

  Elara glanced over at the fire, where the large pot that had once held the fragrant stew now stood empty. She turned back to the man, holding out the bowl in her hands. "No, I'm sorry. This is the last of it."

  The man's gaze dropped to the bowl, the light in his eyes dimmed just a fraction, a barely there pause before he offered a curt nod.

  Elara's gaze lingered on the man, taking in the state of his armor. The metal plates were scuffed and dented, a proof to the battles he had fought. Dust clung to every surface, coating his gear in a fine layer of grime. Only his face and hands remained untouched by the dirt, a stark contrast to the rest of him.

  The man's disappointment was palpable as he asked, "Do you sell any dry rations I could buy?"

  Elara stiffened, a flicker of embarrassment washing over her as she realized he had mistaken her for one of Kurda's employees. "I'm sorry, I don't know," she admitted, her voice soft and apologetic.

  Her gaze dropped to the bowl cradled in her hands, the steam still rising. In truth, she didn't need the meal. The fasting pill she had taken had still a couple of days left, and with no plans to enter the dungeon, the increased regeneration from the stew would be of little use to her.

  Deciding, she held out the bowl to the man. "I've only had two spoonfuls," she explained, her tone gentle. "If you don't mind that, you can have it."

  The man hesitated, shaking his head. "I'm not so hungry that I would take a meal from another," he said, his voice tinged with disdain.

  But she persisted, a small lie slipping from her lips. "I have other things I can eat," she assured him. "And I don't need the increased regeneration since I won't be entering the dungeon."

  The man's eyes widened slightly. He seemed to weigh her words, his gaze flickering between her face and the offered bowl. After a moment, he reached out, his icy fingers brushing against hers as he accepted the stew.

  "Thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "I appreciate your kindness."

  Elara smiled, a warmth spreading through her chest at the man's gratitude. She watched as he lifted the bowl to his lips, savoring the rich aroma before taking a sip. A look of contentment washed over his features, and she knew she had made the right choice.

  As the man savored the stew, Elara lingered by his side, a sense of contentment washing over her. There was something deeply satisfying about watching someone enjoy a meal she had helped prepare, even if Lana had done most of the work.

  The man's appreciation for the food was evident in every spoonful, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the rich flavors.

  As she watched him eat, her mind wandered. Could she have a future as a cook? The thought had never occurred to her before, but now it seemed like a possibility worth considering.

  She recalled the class roulette, a system that allowed her to spin for new classes. Surely there must be artisan classes available, she mused, her mind already calculating when she might spin again.

  Her gaze drifted back to the man, who was now scraping the bottom of the bowl, determined not to miss a single drop of the hearty stew. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, knowing that her small act of kindness had made a difference in his day.

  As the man finished his meal, he looked up at her, a grateful smile on his face. "Thank you again," he said, his voice sincere. "I needed that."

  She returned his smile, taking the empty bowl from his hands. "You're welcome. I'm glad I could help."

  The man lingered for a moment, studying her with a curious gaze. "If you don't mind me asking, why aren't you entering the dungeon?" he inquired. "With the difference in levels between you and the beasts, you could gain a lot of experience."

  Elara blinked, surprised by the man's question. She hadn’t expected him to take an interest in her reasons for staying out of the dungeon. "I... I don't have anyone to go with," she admitted, hesitation creeping into her voice.

  The man considered her words, nodding slowly in understanding. "That seems reasonable," he said, his tone neutral.

  He did not seem impressed by her choice of self preservation. It wasn't quite the validation she had hoped for, but she couldn't blame him for his honesty. She opened her mouth to ask for clarification, to see if he had any advice or suggestions for her, but before she could speak, the man cut her off.

  "My name is Darius," he said, his voice firm and direct. Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone with the empty bowl in her hands.