Card Apprentice Daily Log

Chapter 3129: Aurzone Traven

Date: Unspecified

Time: Unspecified

Location: Myriad Realms, Azorheim, Temporal Cave Valley Rest Stop, Aurzone Traven

“We’ve met before, in the Inter-realm City. Do you remember?” I asked the Redfoot Dwarf as we took our seats at a table on the porch of a nearby tavern.

The tavern itself wasn’t anything particularly impressive. It wasn’t upscale, nor did it have the kind of extravagant decorations favored by establishments catering to wealthy cultivators. Yet the place was packed. Almost every table inside was occupied, and even the outdoor porch had barely enough room to accommodate the constant flow of customers.

From what I could gather by listening to the conversations around us, the crowd wasn’t here because the tavern was cheap.

Its prices were actually fairly average for Azorheim.

People came because the food was good.

More importantly, it was nutritious and served in generous portions. A single meal here could suppress even the biological hunger of powerful beings for several days. For visitors who had come to Azorheim through time-tourism, that was an attractive proposition.

After all, almost everyone who could afford to travel to Azorheim for the sake of time was powerful in their own right.

But there was an amusing contradiction.

Even a Ruler-class being could still feel hunger.

At that level, biological nutrition had long since ceased to be necessary for survival. Their bodies could absorb energy from the environment, draw upon Rule Power, refine soul energy, or sustain themselves through countless other means. Some could probably go centuries without eating anything and suffer no actual weakening.

Yet hunger itself didn’t simply disappear.

Neither did the other biological urges.

Unless someone was willing to completely abandon their racial identity and transform themselves into an existence that had transcended those biological limitations, they would still retain traces of the instincts inherited from their original species.

Becoming a Ruler didn’t mean they stopped having the desire to reproduce.

Power could give someone extraordinary control over those urges, but control wasn’t the same thing as erasure.

The same principle applied to the limits of one’s physical nature.

I was perhaps the best example of that contradiction.

I possessed access to the primordial energy source from which all forms of energy in the Myriad Realms ultimately originated. I could command power that most beings couldn’t even comprehend, and yet I could still sit at a tavern table and feel hungry.

It was almost ridiculous when I thought about it.

I could theoretically solve problems that would require entire civilizations to mobilize, yet my stomach could still remind me that I hadn’t eaten.

Unless I abandoned everything that made me what I was, the hunger wasn’t going anywhere.

To completely eliminate it, I would have to give up being human. I would have to give up being a Viltronian. I would have to give up my World Calamity Tree heritage and every other biological identity I carried with me, becoming a complete Celestial instead.

Only then would I truly be free of those mortal instincts.

And frankly, I wasn’t interested.

There were worse things in the Myriad Realms than occasionally needing to eat.

Besides, judging by the smell drifting from the tavern’s kitchen, I had no intention of complaining about it today.

I glanced across the table at the young Redfoot Dwarf.

He sat stiffly in his chair, still looking somewhat bewildered by the fact that someone had not only hired him but brought him to one of the places he apparently considered worth eating at. His thin frame made the generous portion of food placed before him look almost comically large.

For the first time since we’d approached him, however, some of the tension had left his shoulders.

Perhaps food really was universal.

No matter how powerful the realm, how ancient the race, or how desperate someone’s circumstances became, there was something comforting about sitting down to a proper meal.

“Yes, I remember you. The last time I saw you, you were setting up arrays to harvest liquid Rule Power,” the young Redfoot Dwarf answered.

His words were steady enough, but his eyes were betraying him.

They kept drifting from my face toward the dishes being placed across the table. Every time another plate arrived, his gaze followed it with almost painful intensity. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and the faint growl coming from his stomach was loud enough that even Henricks heard it.

So much for the wary little guide we’d met a few minutes ago. Apparently, hunger had a way of throwing caution out the window.

“Go ahead and eat,” I said, picking up a piece of Serpent Dragon meat kebab. “Just don’t try answering with your mouth full.”

The young dwarf hesitated for only a fraction of a second before grabbing his utensils.

Then he attacked the food.

There was nothing elegant about it.

He ate with the desperation of someone who wasn’t simply enjoying a good meal, but someone who hasn’t eaten his fill for a long time. He barely paused between bites, occasionally slowing only long enough to swallow before reaching for something else.

Henricks looked at me, then at the child, before silently picking up his own utensils.

I did the same.

Unlike the Card Apprentices, most races across the Myriad Realms were capable of digesting the soul energy contained within monster flesh. As a result, monster meat was an extremely common ingredient in the cuisine of countless realms. Powerful monsters weren’t merely hunted for their cores, blood, bones, or materials. Their flesh could also become an incredibly nutritious source of food.

That was one of the many things that made cuisine in the Myriad Realms rather different from the Card World.

Of course, my creation of VR-Slime Cards had gradually begun changing that as well. What had once been a limitation of the Card Apprentices’ biology was becoming increasingly irrelevant as my creations found ways around it.

For now, though, I was more interested in watching the young Redfoot eat.

The portions at this tavern were already generous by Azorheim standards, yet the dwarf was making them disappear at an alarming rate. His cheeks puffed out as he chewed, his tiny hands moving almost continuously from plate to mouth.

I couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since he’d last eaten properly.

The answer was probably longer than I wanted to know.

Eventually, his pace began to slow.

The frantic desperation gradually disappeared from his movements, replaced by the slower rhythm of someone whose stomach had finally stopped screaming at him. He leaned back slightly, took a long breath, and looked down at the remains of his meal as though only now realizing just how much he had eaten. But his eyes looked like he was convincing his stomach he could eat more.

I waited until he had swallowed his final bite before speaking.

“What’s your name?”

The young Redfoot looked up.

“And how did you end up here?”

For the first time since we sat down, the question seemed to make him uncomfortable. His fingers tightened slightly around his utensils. The food had eased his hunger, but apparently there were some memories even a full stomach couldn’t silence. I understood it was difficult, but I need to know if the Redfoot race could serve me like the Froslings.