Grilled Armageddon (Cooking with Disaster Book 1), page 1
GRILLED ARMAGEDDON
COOKING WITH DISASTER
BOOK 1
DAKOTA KROUT
Copyright © 2024 by Dakota Krout
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Newsletter
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
Afterword
About Dakota Krout
About Mountaindale Press
Mountaindale Press Titles
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, as always, to my wonderful wife, thank you for the support, and specifically making me focus on writing above all else in my career.
Next, to my amazing friends, especially Aaron Michael Ritchey. Thank you for sharing your ideas, comments, and time to help shape this into the series it was meant to be.
Lastly, for everyone out there who wishes they had a second chance with people they have lost, this book is for you.
May your future be delicious.
NEWSLETTER
Don’t miss out on future releases! Sign up for my newsletter to stay up to date. And as always, thank you for your support! You are the reason I’m able to bring these stories to life.
PROLOGUE
“It’s time to go.”
On the last night of his life, Nacho stood perfectly still, wrists manacled as his eyes roved one of the few overgrown green spaces of the camp. At that moment, he was doing his best to smell the roses that had bloomed in the area.
He snarled deep in his chest as he looked at his ‘captors’. They didn’t need to lock him up, but even knowing that he couldn’t do anything against them—guaranteed by the magical contract that he had signed the second week after meeting the Guild Master in this new world—his own guild members were terrified of what he might do.
The reputation he had made for himself after the apocalypse made sure of that.
They’d already taken his assassin leathers, which he’d bought with an exchange of a month’s worth of food. Now, he stood in clean jeans and a hoodie, which he’d bought specially from the Store to force people to see how far they had fallen. A person could get anything from the Store.
“Anything except redemption.” The best assassin in the world breathed the words softly as he looked at a trio of roses that had grown to be several feet taller than the rest. The flowers were supporting each other, allowing for growth unmatched by those around them.
“Silence, prisoner.”
Eli ‘Nacho’ Naches was flanked by Hogan and Whitney, Guild Master Crave’s heavy hitters. As the moon began to rise, all three stood on the outskirts of his guild’s compound, the muddy camp inside the walls cluttered with a mixture of tents, huts, and stone houses. On the other side of the barrier, the night was filled with howling and chittering monsters. They’d grown so large, powerful, and numerous that it was all humanity could do to hold off the few that came to investigate the fragrance of cooking fires coming from their area. It was autumn on the Starter World, though sometimes it still smelled exactly like Kansas City, Kansas had in the fall… before.
“Thanks for letting me take a few minutes to collect my emotions. I was going a little wild there,” Nacho deadpanned; he had been a stone-hearted killer for years now. His emotions were dead and buried in the empty graves he had dug for his friends. His utter lack of empathy—as well as any positive emotion—was part of why he was so feared even by those who were supposed to be his teammates. He figured it had happened thanks to a mix of the terrible conditions, lack of proper food, loss of his friends, and getting hit in the head a lot.
The manacled assassin sniffed at the air. “Smells good. Someone found some proper oak. What’s for dinner?”
“You are.” Hogan’s laugh caused the tiny bit of extra flesh beneath his chin to wobble, and Nacho stared at that movement hungrily. The mirth vanished quickly, replaced by awkward silence. The goon was a monster of a man; well-fed, his muscles strained his magical plate mail, yet he couldn’t hide his fear when Nacho’s dead eyes landed on him. The correct response, by all available data.
Crave’s heavies were Body Players, and they’d been with the Guild Master since the very beginning of the Juxtaposition, three years ago, when life on Earth had changed forever. Whitney was shorter than Hogan, though with a mop of bright yellow hair. Like his counterpart, he wore a giant sword at his hip, and he’d paid through the nose for his impressive white lacquer armor. The coloration didn’t go well with his pale complexion—it brought out the pink in his rampant acne.
He wasn’t alone in his dermatological state: three years of having to choose between getting enough calories to survive or spending credits on a bit of hygiene had been an easy decision for anyone that had managed to make it to this point. Despite the unfortunate state that he was in, his sneer only a few moments prior had been full of smug contempt as he pointed his weapon at Nacho’s neck. The huge Tier two man had claimed he’d been a prison guard before the Juxtaposition, but those tattoos seemed a little too messy to have been done by a professional. As with all things before the end of the world, what they’d done in their previous lives didn’t matter.
The only things that mattered these days were filling food and drinkable water. Those things didn’t come cheap. Not anymore.
The assassin had just been returning from his most recent—and apparently final—mission for the guild when Hogan had slapped on the manacles and let him know he was about to be walking to the butcher block; the guild’s only method of execution. Waste not, want not.
Nacho inhaled deeply, letting the smell of campfires and Putrid Mana-filled meat cooking fill his nostrils. Even after having lived in this reality for so long, it was still easier to pretend he was just at a backyard barbecue. Normally after a mission, he would’ve wanted to eat, chase a pretty face that wasn’t too mud-caked, or seek any other distractions that kept his mind off what he had been forced to do.
Right now, his eyes held a glint of hope. The hope that all of this horror would be over soon. Best not to fight it. He had long since learned that panicking would only waste valuable calories.
Various eyes followed Hogan and Whitney as they escorted Nacho through the squalor. Dirty, gaunt men appraised them, some wearing inexpensive metal armor, others garbed in hardened leather skins. It was easy to tell the Body Players from the Mind Players, generally by how much meat they had on their bones. The Body Players had to be thick to wield their melee weapons; even the archers had to be overly muscular on their arms and shoulders to fire those massive longbows that required a ton of strength just to pull back the string.
The Mind Players were thinner, practically skeletons in comparison, but their skin was clear and well-hydrated. They all wore oversized packs that had once upon a time reminded Nacho of the tanks that flamethrowers required. Their mana pool was directly reliant on the volume of clean water they drank, so no one in their right mind was willing to leave access to a water source to chance.
“Earth is gone. Humanity is on its way out as well, if things don't change.” Nacho chatted serenely as they walked. He knew he was correct: he had access to the highest levels of information available, whether legally or not so much. Even the most generous prediction only gave humans another eight months of survival. Not just because of the lack of food and presence of monsters. No… they were actively being hunted.
Monster attacks, rampant cannibalism, not to mention their main opponent in the Juxtaposition: the CrossHumans. They were so far ahead of humans that the competition was a joke, and they were sowing mischief, murder, and mayhem in equal parts.
As for himself, Nacho had done well. He’d kept himself and a lot of the people in the camp fed and safe because of the credits he’d brought in from his staggeringly numerous kills. He was Richard Crave’s number one contracted assassin: the famed Shadow Killer. Nacho was the merciless dagger which the Final Victory Guild sent to end the threat of their enemies.
In the end, it appeared that Nacho had been too good at keeping himself alive and making his enemies dead. There was one last little question about his final fate, but he wasn’t going to waste his time wondering when he could just ask the two goons. Nacho’s monotone chuckle made his escorts shiver. “Tell me, gentlemen… is Crave going to buy some tortilla chips, cheese, and jalapeno peppers for me? ‘Last meal’ sorta thing?”
“Why would he do that?” Whitney questioned his charge seriously. “Seems a waste to spend credits on a dead man.”
“You tool, he’s making a joke.” Hogan slapped his partner, then settled a thick hand on Nacho’s neck and squeezed it: a threat he assumed that the assassin couldn’t do anything about beyond glare. “It’s ‘cause his name is Nacho. Why do they call you that, anyway?”
“You should be careful where you touch.” Nacho deftly twisted away from Hogan, who gaped at his hand in horror upon realizing it was completely numb, and the numbness was spreading. “I’m named after a river. Back on Earth, I was Eli Michael Naches. My friends called me Nacho. Crave thought it was funny and ordered me to tell everyone that my name is Nacho. Now I can only tell you what the rest of it was. Also… those guys aren’t from around here. They shouldn’t be guarding the area, no matter if they will be allies.”
A few warriors stood with pikes near the drawbridge of the keep, staring at Nacho with disturbing glares. Two parts hate, one part hunger.
“Always looking out for the guild, even after you found out that they’re gonna spit-roast you for peace. You know, we do appreciate your sacrifice.” Hogan’s lips curled into a disgusting grin as he looked Nacho up and down. He licked his lips, and Nacho had to suppress his internal shiver.
“Not my choice, so it’s not my sacrifice,” the assassin growled in a low tone as they passed the unknown sentinels. “You’re fools to think that allowing me to be killed is going to help you. All it does is take one of Crave’s chips off the negotiation table.”
“Chips! Because you’re Nacho!” Whitney laughed uproariously, garnering scathing glances from the people around him. The outburst nevertheless succeeded in drawing rapt attention as the prisoner was led through Crave’s crowded throne room, gliding like a ghost as the spectators stomped around on the ground hard enough to create tremors. Nacho had to wonder if he actually was some kind of dead creature already, and this was just going to be his body accepting that fact. “This place has been a living death since Reuben and Brie died. I’m just glad to-”
Hogan shoved him hard enough that he stumbled and fell to his knees. “Quiet down, meat. On your feet!”
“Someone’s trying to get a promotion, using their big-boy brain to make rhyming threats and orders.” Nacho muttered as he effortlessly regained his standing position, like a snake coiling up to strike. He was briskly marched from the throne room, through a corridor, and into an enclosed courtyard. There he found Guild Masters Crave and Kala waiting, along with their Warriors, Mages, and Healers. “Quite a collection to see little ol’ me off.”
That was where Nacho would die. Winking his left eye, then his right eye, and finishing with a light shrug, he pulled up his Stat Sheet one last time, just to measure how far he’d come over the years.
Eli ‘Nacho’ Naches
Patron Boon—0/1 used.
(Prerequisites for boon use: Unknown.)
Class: Shadow Killer
Level: 28 (Tier 2, level 8)
Experience Points: 166,408,000 to Level 29!
Current Credits: 50,897
Build choice: Self-Applied
Body:
Fitness: 40
Metabolic efficiency: 19
Mind:
Mental energy: 20
Circuit: 17
Satiation:
Hunger: 100
Thirst: 100
Total Health Points: 90
Total Mana Pool: 40
Skill Slots (4/4 used)
Gamer Reflex (Passive) Level 29: Gain first strike in 58% of all circumstances.
No Mana, Hydration, or Metabolic Cost
Shadow Speed (Active) Level 29: Enhanced speed on the first 6 attacks when attacking unaware targets, or 3 attacks on aware opponents.
Tier 1 Enhancement: Darkness Dash.
Tier 2 Enhancement: Umbral Stab.
Mana Cost = 0%
Hydration Cost = 0%
Metabolic Cost = 15%
Ninja Hush (Active) Level 29: Walk silently 116% of the time on normal surfaces and 58% on loud or annoying surfaces, including squeaky boards.
Tier 1 Enhancement: Throw Noise.
Tier 2 Enhancement: Shush Hush.
Mana Cost = 5%
Hydration Cost = 5%
Metabolic Cost = 15%
Midnight Blend (Active) Level 29: Hide in shadows 116% effectively at night, 82% in a shadowy environment, and 58% effectively in daylight or other bright conditions.
Tier 1 Enhancement: Blending Backstab.
Tier 2 Enhancement: Shadow Teleportation.
Mana Cost = 5%
Hydration Cost = 5%
Metabolic Cost = 15%
Nacho couldn’t help but be disappointed in the fact that he’d never been able to increase his mana pool; he’d never guessed that his sneakier skills would use so abyssal much of it. If only he’d known to choose a different Build Type, all of his stats, skills, and every waking moment would’ve been so much better. Alas, gaining knowledge of the System was just on the edge of impossible, so expensive that only the most foolish or desperate bought the information packs offered within the Store.
He still wondered about his Patron’s boon, from a Patron without a name listed. It was common knowledge that the Patrons ran the Juxtaposition, but no one knew why or how; not even the few Warlocks, who received their power directly from their Patrons. Some players had managed to receive a boon without being a Warlock—people like Crave. He had confided in Nacho, back when they were friendly to each other, that he had something called ‘Dope or Nope’ Intuition.
Nacho only had a basic idea regarding what that boon granted. When Crave realized that he had mentioned it out loud, well, that was when their friendliness had dried up. Even so, from what Nacho could gather, Crave could tell if someone, something, or some place was dangerous—the ‘Nope’—or if it was ‘Dope’. As in, whether it was a hidden treasure for him to interact with.
Upon seeing how beneficial even such a ridiculous-sounding boon had been for the Guild Master, Nacho had tried everything he could think of to trigger his own mystery boon, but it was all for naught. When he finally did manage to snag a boon, it had come with some kind of hidden requirement for use that he had yet to find. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time left.
Kala, the so-called Death Knight, was the Guild Master of the Gorged Guild. She was a big, broad woman, imposing in her black plate armor with her helmet’s visor closed. She had been lucky to acquire a rare artifact early on, a colossal black sword nearly as hefty as she was. The weapon had helped her level up faster than anyone around her, and her personal power was one of the reasons her guild had survived the first calamity-class monster that had appeared.
Crave had survived as well, thanks to Nacho. That fact still irked the assassin, moreso now that his good deed was about to go on to be punished.
While Kala had embraced her Death Knight persona with full-on roleplay enthusiasm, Crave had chosen a three-piece suit from the more modern outfit selections in the Store. He’d earned an assassin class, like Nacho, but no one looking at him would have ever known it. Crave didn’t talk about his class very much, but he’d been quite stabby in his time—even if he wasn’t all that great at fighting. He’d had to go out of his way to kill people in their sleep, thanks mostly to his lack of variety in powerful magic items. That is, until he enlisted people like Nacho to do the dirty work for him.
