At that moment, Slimy also peeked in from the doorway.

The blue slime carefully bounced to the edge of the kitchen, its round eyes fixed on the ingredients on the cutting board. It was obviously interested in food, but it did not dare approach the stove, so it maintained a safe distance, wobbling gently in place.

Zich glanced at it, cut off a harmless piece of food from the side, and tossed it over.

Slimy caught it instantly. Then the entire slime lit up, a soft glow pulsing outward from its core. It did not necessarily need to eat, but the simple act of Zich giving it something was enough to make it happy.

The atmosphere in the kitchen suddenly became strangely peaceful. Zich was cooking. Silver was humming tunelessly while cutting ingredients with flawless precision. The skeleton attendant quietly arranged the dishes, wiped the table, and adjusted the heat. Slimey happily bounced around nearby while doing its best not to touch anything hot.

If an outsider saw this scene, they would probably find it hard to believe that this was the home of a summoner in the dangerous world of Ascension Mountain.

The meal was prepared quickly. Zich did not make anything complicated, just some simple seared meat, a light soup, and a few hot vegetables. He sat at the dining table and took a few bites, finding it more satisfying than the food produced by the local chefs of this shelter.

Halfway through the meal, he put down his fork and looked toward the hallway. "Let’s go see the guests."

On the other side of the mansion, a storage room had temporarily been converted into a prison cell.

The room was blindingly bright. Powerful lamps had been installed in all four corners. The floors and walls were so illuminated that almost no dark shadows could be seen.

The windows had been sealed, and traces of venom spat out by Slimey formed a ring of green warning lines on the floor. For ordinary people, it was merely a little too bright. For shadow type infiltrators, it was torture.

The two Failures were tied separately against the walls. Their wounds had been given simple treatment. They would not die, but they were certainly not at ease. One had a collapsed shoulder, while the other had a broken leg bound tightly in a crude splint. Both looked terribly pale.

Iron stood at the doorway. The tall undead knight remained completely motionless, like a black execution platform. The two Failures had been staring at it for a long time. It did not blink or change posture, or even make any unnecessary movements, which made it even more frightening than if it had moved.

When Zich pushed the door open, the two Failures immediately looked at him. One of them gritted his teeth and said, "These lights... how long are you going to keep us here?"

"Until I no longer need you."

"We’re going blind."

"Then close your eyes."

The Failure’s expression worsened. They looked at Zich with eyes that could kill.

Carrying his plate, Zich sat down in front of them and continued eating slowly, without a care in the world. His movements were unhurried, as though this were not a temporary prison cell but an ordinary dining room.

One of the Failures finally could not hold back anymore. "Why haven’t you killed us?"

Zich swallowed his food and glanced at him. He didn’t speak immediately, deliberation visible in the slight pause of his hand. He took another bite of his meal, chewed it thoroughly, and only then did he speak.

"Because I want you to lead me to the Failures’ base in this shelter."

Both Failures stiffened at the same time.

"Our base?"

"Yes."

The two exchanged glances, a brief look that communicated more than words could. Then, without hesitation, one of them said, "We don’t know what you’re talking about."

Zich nodded, as if he had expected exactly that answer. "Then let me put it another way. You were sent here by someone, accepted payment, broke into my house, and damaged my property. Now you’re staying in my room, using my lights, breathing my air, and wasting my time. I could kill you if I wanted. But I’d rather you be useful instead."

He set down his plate, his tone still calm as he continued. "All you have to do is take me to your base, and then I’ll let you go. Or you can stay here and rot."

At that moment, the skeleton attendant quietly walked in. It carried two cups in its hands and gently placed water before the two Failures. The cups were set down without a sound, positioned carefully within reach of their bound hands.

For a moment, both of them were stunned. An undead creature actually seemed more like a normal person than Zich did.

Zich said blandly, "Don’t misunderstand. If you spill it, you’ll also have to pay cleaning fees."

The expressions of both Failures immediately froze.

The skeleton attendant quietly retreated to the side, folding its bony hands in front of it with the practiced stillness of a servant awaiting the next instruction.

Only after finishing his final bite did Zich stand up. He wiped his hands once with a cloth, set it down neatly, and looked at them.

"After the Chosen Tournament is finished, you’ll take me to see your base."

One of the Failures smirked. "You can’t just walk inside there. Don’t push your luck too much, kid."

Zich looked at Iron by the door, then at the small silver knife in his hand. The weapon spirit’s glow was faint but steady, like a patient heartbeat. He shifted his gaze to the Failure inside the cell and his lips parted slightly as a smirk curved up.

"I wasn’t planning to just walk in."

"Then how do you plan to enter?"

"For messing with me, my first benevolent act in the first layer would be getting rid of your base."

..

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