Sitting in the makeshift camp he had set up, Steven glanced at the red-haired girl beside him, who had introduced herself as Surtr.
He took another bite of the small handmade popsicle she had given him—something that, apparently, was a specialty passed down from some Indian master chef.
But the moment it hit his tongue, his brow furrowed slightly.
This thing… has no flavor.
He had expected some kind of special craftsmanship or unique ingredients to be mixed in.
But no matter how he tasted it, it was just a chunk of crushed-up snow, nothing more. Not even a hint of sweetness.
Yet, when he turned to look at Surtr, she was licking hers with absolute delight, savoring every moment.
At that moment, Steven started questioning himself.
Wait, is something wrong with my sense of taste?
Otherwise, why was he unable to detect any sweetness while she seemed to be enjoying it so much?
Steven didn't doubt that the girl had given him this treat with good intentions.
She didn't seem like someone who had much to offer in return, after all.
And besides, the way she was eating with such a blissful expression—that wasn't something a person could fake.
"You actually think this thing tastes good?"
Steven quickly chomped down the rest of his popsicle, then turned to Surtr, who was still slowly and reluctantly licking hers.
It was obvious that she genuinely enjoyed this kind of thing.
"Nothing calms me down from a chaotic state better than a popsicle."
"They've been my saving grace throughout my journey. If only I had some wild berries and honey, though… then the flavor would be even better."
Surtr glanced at him, then answered with complete seriousness.
If someone was willing to share food with her, they had to be a good person, right?
Steven muttered quietly under his breath, just loud enough for himself to hear:
"Eating something hot and then immediately something freezing… you're not worried about getting a stomachache?"
But of course, she didn't hear him.
After all, if there's one thing he had learned about this world, it was this—beautiful girls don't get diarrhea.
Talulah ran around in thin clothing all the time in the freezing snowfields, yet never once did she complain about an upset stomach.
Maybe people on Terra were just born different.
Steven didn't ask about the chaotic state she had mentioned earlier.
They were nothing more than two strangers, passing the time while waiting for transport.
There was no reason for him to start prying into her personal affairs.
However, as a food lover, he just couldn't get over that flavorless popsicle she had given him.
How could something like that be called a real popsicle?!
At the very least, it should have some sweetness!
Determined, Steven dug through his inventory and pulled out two watermelon popsicles.
Then, wearing a smug expression, he raised an eyebrow at the girl, who had already finished her treat and was now warming herself by the fire.
"That thing you made? Nope, not good enough. You have to try mine."
Like a magician performing a trick, Steven pulled out the two red, triangular-shaped popsicles from his bag.
At that moment, he felt like a shady dealer exchanging forbidden goods, like he was selling bootleg CDs in a dark alley—all he was missing was a long trench coat to hide the merchandise.
At first, Surtr seemed confused by what he was saying.
But the moment she laid eyes on the vivid red watermelon popsicle, her entire expression lit up—her eyes sparkled with pure excitement.
The cold, indifferent look on her face melted away instantly.
A brilliant smile spread across her lips, so warm and bright that it felt like it could melt the entire snowy landscape around them.
Without hesitation, she eagerly took the popsicle from his hands, her eyes filled with anticipation.
Surtr leaned in close, her small nose twitching as she sniffed the refreshing, sweet scent of fresh watermelon wafting from the popsicle.
Her eyes curved into crescent moons almost instantly.
This scent—it was familiar.
Somewhere deep in her memory, she recalled that only certain tropical fruits from the humid rainforests carried such an aroma.
She had no idea how this man had managed to get his hands on something like this in a frozen wasteland, but honestly, did it even matter?
All she cared about was eating.
With pure delight, she popped the popsicle into her mouth, giving it a gentle lick.
The sweetness mixed with the icy chill, rushing straight from her tongue to her brain. Surtr shuddered involuntarily, a small shiver running through her body.
Then, her smile widened even further.
Yes! This is the taste!
No—actually, this was even better than what she had imagined.
"You did well! You did well!"
Unable to contain her excitement, Surtr gave Steven a big thumbs-up—a gesture she vaguely remembered as a way to express praise.
Steven grinned smugly, tilting his chin up slightly.
"Heh, told you. My popsicles are on another level."
For a cook, there was no greater satisfaction than seeing someone genuinely enjoy their creation.
He waited as Surtr, still savoring the taste, reluctantly finished her watermelon popsicle. Only when she had licked the stick clean did he finally clap his hands together, stretching lazily before settling back into his chair.
"Speaking of which, I forgot to ask—how did you even end up in a place like this?"
"Don't tell me you're just wandering around aimlessly like me?"
Surtr, still unwilling to part with her empty popsicle stick, carefully tucked it into her small bag before rubbing her now-too-full stomach.
Then, she plopped down beside Steven, seating herself directly on the ground.
It was only at that moment that she realized something—
Nobody else would be as mindless as her, roaming around with no clear purpose.
And in a place like this, Steven's presence felt just as out of place as her own.
Especially considering that he didn't even look remotely exhausted, despite supposedly being a traveler.
If he hadn't said it himself, Surtr would never have believed he was a traveler.
"I took a ride here, obviously."
Steven, now full and comfortable, basked in Ursus' weak sunlight, responding without even opening his eyes.
This wooden chair was too stiff, though.
Maybe he should install a furniture mod?
Or perhaps he could just make an old-fashioned rocking chair himself?
That thought made him suddenly open his eyes.
Under Surtr's slightly confused gaze, he immediately pulled out a wooden block and began carving it at lightning speed.
"…A ride?"
Surtr blinked, staring at the boy who was now completely engrossed in woodworking.
For a moment, she didn't know what to make of him.
She had encountered many people before, all sorts of strange individuals.
But someone as utterly unique as Steven?
He was the first.
Still, at least he didn't seem hostile.
And more importantly, the popsicle he gave her was delicious.
"To be precise, I took a mobile fortress here."
Steven continued working, not even looking up.
"Sure, traveling on foot lets you appreciate the scenery better, I won't deny that."
"But seeing the same thing over and over again gets boring real fast. Like this damn snowfield—I've been looking at it for a whole month now, and I'm about to lose my mind."
A few minutes later, he finally paused, staring at the mess of wood shavings in his hands.
Yeah… he had no talent for woodworking.
Aside from turning a perfectly good wooden block into a pile of smaller wooden pieces, he had accomplished absolutely nothing.
Without hesitation, Steven gave up immediately.
It was better to just turn on the furniture mod honestly—after all, it didn't even cost that many points.
With a casual flick, Steven added a furniture mod, then immediately pulled out a plastic chair—the kind you'd find in a typical street food stall.
He leaned back into it comfortably, stretching out like he had no worries in the world.
"I don't really understand what you're saying."
Surtr shook her head.
She didn't get anything Steven was talking about, but one thing was clear—they were probably not the same kind of people.
Before she could say anything else, Steven, ever the accommodating host, pulled out another plastic chair and gestured for her to stop sitting on the ground.
Following his lead, Surtr leaned back into the chair, her small frame looking even more delicate in contrast to the seat.
But, it was surprisingly comfortable.
She shifted slightly, placing her greatsword to the side, then relaxed, enjoying the pleasant, lazy atmosphere of a post-meal break alongside Steven.
Sometimes, there was no need to think too much.
Where you came from and where you were going—did it even really matter?
People should live as comfortably as they can, right?
"Where did you get that greatsword?"
"Is it some kind of local specialty?"
"It looks... seriously badass."
After basking in the sun for a while, Steven finally gave in to his curiosity, his gaze lingering on the imposing weapon resting beside Surtr.
More than anything, it was warm.
Like, really warm, almost like a personal heater just sitting there.
Steven loved that feature.
Sure, his [Yamato] was good and all, but when it came to style and functionality, it was an undeniable loss.
This thing didn't even need to be used—it just looked intimidating.
Anyone who saw it would immediately think—
"Yeah, I shouldn't mess with this person."
"Greatsword?"
Surtr tilted her head slightly, then followed Steven's gaze to her weapon.
"You must be mistaken. This is my staff."
Steven froze.
"…Huh?"
With almost no effort at all, Surtr lifted the massive blade, holding it in her hands like it was weightless.
"What? A staff?!"
Steven's eyelid twitched.
Sure, he wasn't from around here, but he wasn't blind either.
A staff and a greatsword were two completely different things.
This girl—was she really trying to pull a 'call a deer a horse' on him?
He pointed at the sword—which was still radiating heat—and refused to accept the absurd claim.
"There's no way that thing is a staff."
"But it is."
Surtr's tone was completely matter-of-fact, as if there was nothing strange about it at all.
"Laevatain is my medium for casting Originium Arts. So even if it looks... a little different, it's still my beloved staff."
She wrapped both arms around the burning-hot sword, hugging it against her cheek with an adoring expression—completely unfazed by the heat.
The way she held it would make people think that she looked just like a child clutching their favorite toy.
Steven stared at her.
Then at the sword.
Then back at her.
Then back at the sword.
"…So, by that logic, if I used a loaf of bread to cast Originium Arts… would that also make it a staff?"
"Yeah, of course."
Surtr nodded without hesitation.
"What's the problem?"
<+>
If you want to see more chapter of this story and don't mind spending $5 monthly to see till the latest chapter, please go to my Patreon[1]
Latest Chapter in Patreon: Chapter 214: It Made Me Feel Like I Wasn't Alone[2]
Link to the latest chapter: https://www.patreon.com/posts/arknightcraft-129691441[3]
https://www.patreon.com/collection/55713?view=expanded[4]
[1] https://www.patreon.com/collection/55713?view=expanded
[2] https://www.patreon.com/posts/arknightcraft-129691441
[3] https://www.patreon.com/posts/arknightcraft-129691441
[4] https://www.patreon.com/collection/55713?view=expanded