Chef in the Apocalypse

Chapter 23: Faction

Colin entered the room, and his face lit up at the sight of Jayce awake. Yet, as his eyes fell upon Lianna's comforting gesture towards Jayce, a sense of awkwardness enveloped him. He almost turned on his heels, contemplating a swift retreat from the room.

In response to Colin's entrance, Jayce looked over with a pleading expression, silently imploring for aid. However, his plea only provoked a hearty chuckle from the big man, who promptly departed, a dazzling smile adorning his face.

Left feeling abandoned, Jayce simmered with indignation. 'I won't forget this, you big oaf,' he vowed inwardly.

Clearing his throat, he discreetly withdrew his hand from Lianna's grasp, reclaiming some of his composure after being ensnared by his own emotions.

"Thank you, Lianna. I'll be more cautious in the future," he uttered, taking a moment to straighten his attire. "We still have much to attend to. How long was I unconscious?"

Jackie frowned, "Didn't we just tell you to rest?"

Jayce shook his head, a touch exasperated. The absence of parental figures for so long had rendered him unaccustomed to such questioning or being spoken to as a child.

"Sadly, there's no time for rest. There's still so much to be done, and our supplies won't last indefinitely," he stated matter-of-factly.

Jackie faltered, rendered speechless. Why did it seem like this teenager was the mature adult in this situation? She pondered, realizing Jayce's seemingly unflappable demeanor and his ability to effortlessly inspire and guide the shelter's inhabitants in honing their skills.

Contemplating Jayce's knowledge of the outside world, she furrowed her brow, uncertain of how to comprehend him. Nonetheless, one thing was evident—he emanated trustworthiness and kindness, as attested by both her own observations and Lianna's account of her rescue.

Unaware of the thoughts swirling in Jackie's mind, Jayce stepped into the main room of the makeshift shelter, where most of the inhabitants had gathered. Originally a nightclub, the hard and sticky floor bore remnants of spilled beverages.

Beneath the ground, concealed from the monstrous threats that lurked outside, the nightclub's interior remained perpetually veiled in darkness. Though candles and torches could manage the shadows, these resources were scarce in a world bereft of electricity since the cataclysm had befallen the Earth.

Humans were not creatures of the night, and prolonged exposure to darkness wrought a certain impact upon one's psyche. Jayce couldn't help but shiver at the thought, for it conjured haunting memories from his past life.

Refusing to dwell on those recollections, he strode to the room's center, which once served as the dancefloor, gathering the attention of all present. Although not particularly extroverted, he knew time was of the essence, and preparations must begin promptly.

Perhaps other supporters had already formed their Factions and embarked on hunting monsters, and he must be swift if he hoped to contend for the World Quest prizes.

In this apocalyptic realm, skills and abilities were tantamount to survival. One could never have enough, especially when lives hung in the balance, and the fate of humankind was at stake.

With such thoughts set aside, Jayce spoke calmly, "Fellow comrades, I express my gratitude for heeding my words earlier. I understand they may have seemed bizarre and implausible, but they are truth."

Scanning the room, he made eye contact with several individuals, gauging their expressions before continuing, "I have learned that we have access to the Faction function within the system, granting us the opportunity to create our own Faction."

A few puzzled looks surfaced, while others nodded in comprehension. The elder members were unfamiliar with the term "Faction" and required clarification.

"To be precise, we can form a recognized group within the system, fostering mutual support, and growth as a team," Jayce explained, ensuring everyone shared a common understanding.

"Will this mean we must engage in combat?" a man in his late forties questioned, steadying himself on a cane, bearing signs of a past injury that appeared to be quite incapacitating.

Without hesitation, Jayce responded, "Indeed. We shall all have to fight."

Disapproval emanated from several people, displeased by the declaration. An older woman stood, her bob cut bouncing with indignation. "How could you expect this man to fight?"

She gestured toward others in the room. "We have elderly and even children here. Have you no shame? No compassion?"

Remaining steadfast, Jayce observed the tide turning against him, yet his countenance betrayed no fear. He had anticipated some resistance regarding his next point.

Waiting for the Karen to finish her outburst, he retorted evenly, "Compassion? Do you believe the monsters outside will care if you are old, young, or infirm?"

Without waiting for an answer, he pressed on, "I assure you they will not. They shall not even blink before rending you limb from limb. This world we once knew no longer exists. Equality and compassion are absent. Only the survival of the fittest prevails."

His words lingered in the still air, as a sense of dread and oppression seized the room, lowering its temperature by a few degrees.

Jayce allowed them to stew in their disheartening realization for a few moments. They needed to comprehend the severity of their circumstances, no matter how harrowing. The sooner they realized, the higher their chance of survival.

Breaking the silence, he activated his Executive Chef skill, infusing all present with a surge of vitality. "Together, we shall grow stronger. We can survive and thrive amidst this apocalypse. Join me, and together, let us carve our place in this forsaken world."

A revitalizing warmth surged through the shelter's inhabitants, lifting their spirits. Though the vitality boost was merely 2 points, it greatly bolstered them at their low levels.

Renewed vigor and zeal glimmered in their eyes as they looked to Jayce. Wasting no time, he sent out a mass faction invitation to all those present.

[You have been invited to Hell's Kitchen by Let Me Cook - Will you accept?] [Y/N]