"Boss, no, that's all..." a Gretchin said tremblingly.
"The stew is all here for today, the boys are still cooking it, it'll be a while..."
"Useless! You're all a bunch of useless trash!" Ragnar slapped the Gretchin away.
"You can't even prepare a simple dish, what use are you to me?!"
He felt his stomach was still empty; the intense hunger hadn't disappeared, but instead grew stronger.
But his head started to feel a little dizzy.
Everything in front of me became blurry.
The sirens and roaring sounds gradually faded into the distance.
Only that familiar, enticing aroma of braised pork lingered around his nose.
Just then, the iconic cauldron throne beneath him underwent a strange change.
The stew that had cooled and solidified in the pot suddenly started bubbling and boiling again.
The thick, brown broth kept churning, gradually coalescing into a blurry human face.
The face had a huge mouth and small eyes, with a mocking smile on its face.
This has been a secret ever since Ragnar discovered this magical food, Menzi.
This phenomenon occurs whenever he is under immense pressure, emotionally agitated, and consumes an astonishingly large quantity of stewed meat.
He was also startled when he first encountered this situation.
He even thought he was hallucinating.
But when he heard the stew in the pot speak and answer his questions...
He discovered that he could actually communicate with the throne cauldron.
Moreover, the "human faces" inside this large pot always grant him extraordinary power and good fortune.
His repeated victories proved that he seemed to have truly received the protection of the " Stew God ".
Although Ragnar always believed in Gork and Mork deep down, he never publicized this matter to the outside world.
But he knew very well that his current position was largely due to this mysterious cauldron.
The crew of the Anna, including the Gretchin and guards, were already used to their leader occasionally talking to himself over the cauldron.
They knew that whenever this happened, no matter how crazy their boss was, they just had to do as he said.
Asking too many questions will only hasten your demise.
"Hey, Ragnar, your belly has gotten even bigger."
The Stew God spoke up, its voice cunning, like that of a mischievous child.
"I don't have a belly, this is a stomach, a big stomach," Ragnar said nonchalantly.
He even reached out and cupped the soft, chubby mound of flesh in front of him, and corrected her in a serious tone.
"This is a symbol of strength; only the most powerful Orks can possess such a large stomach."
"Hahaha, a symbol of strength? I think it's a symbol of a good-for-nothing."
The Stew God burst into laughter, causing the broth in the pot to boil violently and splatter countless oil droplets.
"If you keep eating like this, one day you'll get so fat that even the mecha can't move, and you'll eventually be crushed to death by your own weight."
"That's good too," Ragnar said optimistically.
Eat when you're hungry, drink when you're thirsty, and don't let things bother you.
"If I could, I'd rather die from overeating."
"Ha, what an idiot." Stew God sneered.
"I don't think you'll live to the point of bursting from overeating."
"If you don't come up with something soon, those bastards who keep shouting 'In the name of the Emperor ' will use you as a firework."
"Tsk tsk tsk, look at all that fat on you. Believe me, it'll be quite a sight to see you burn, hahaha~"
The relentless taunts from the Stew God finally stung Ragnar's nerves.
The optimism on his face vanished instantly.
Instead, there was an undisguised anger and humiliation.
"Stop talking nonsense!" Ragnar slammed his hand on the cauldron throne, making a loud "bang".
"Tell me, what do you want me to do to get rid of those damned shrimps?"
He rarely spoke to Stew God in this tone.
But he must win this war.
"Hehe, you should have said that earlier." Stew God laughed smugly.
"Same as always, but this time the situation is different. The opponent is stronger than any you've ever faced before, so the price will have to go up."
"How much?" Ragnar asked in a deep voice.
"One-half," said the Stew God.
"Give me half of your pot of Supreme Stew, and I'll help you win this war."
Isn't that a great deal?
"What, one-half? You're robbing me!" Ragnar's eyes widened in shock.
"You used to only take a third at most, but this time you want half."
"No, absolutely not."
Every Orks on Dorito knows that their leader Ragnar, has a pot of treasured, exquisite stew.
That was Ragnar's lifeline.
That pot of stew was something Ragnar had been cooking ever since he first tasted it.
It contains the essence of all the powerful opponents he has encountered in his life.
There were Orks warlords he slew, Imperium commanders he defeated, and various powerful Xenos he conquered.
Everyone qualified to enter that pot of stew is a true powerhouse.
The oil used to cook the mung bean jelly is only the highest grade of golden oil.
That golden oil was extracted from the most powerful cave creatures cultivated by the Snakebites Cave Squig.
Each Cave Squig, as strong as a small mountain, can only yield two ounces of golden oil.
Only the first batch of mushrooms after they have just released their spores are used, as they are the freshest and most nutritious.
That pot of stew was always simmered over a low flame for over two whole years.
I heard that just one bite can turn even the skinniest kid into a strong, muscular man.
Ragnar himself only dared to taste a single bite each day.
He valued that pot of stew more than his own life.
Now, the Stew God is asking for half a piece every time he opens his mouth.
This is practically killing him.
"Do you have the right to negotiate with me?" The Stew God ' tone instantly turned cold, and the broth in the pot turned black and viscous.
"Look at how bad your situation is right now."
"Most of Dorito's warships are here; you have no way out now."
"If you lose this war, you will not only lose your entire fleet, but also your prestige in Dorito."
"At that time, countless Orks behemoths will jump out and challenge your position."
Do you think you can still keep your pot of premium braised pork?
"Who knows, you might end up being chopped into minced meat and added to that pot of Supreme Stew."
Stew God's words, every single one, struck Ragnar's deepest sore spot.
In fact, even if Ragnar had lost the war, with his current prestige and strength, no Dorito could have threatened Orks's position.
After all, Iron Claw Chandler had already died at his hands.
But in reality, Ragnar was extremely sensitive and insecure.
From a young age, he was ridiculed and bullied by other Orks because he was fat and ate a lot.
But through his own fists and wisdom, he climbed step by step from the lowest rung of the hill to the position of Dorito Orks warlord.
He cared more about his reputation and status than anyone else.
He couldn't accept defeat.
Especially considering how badly they lost in front of so many of their subordinates.
"Besides," the Stew God ' tone turned playful again, "That pot of your Supreme Stewed Noodles was originally made especially for me, wasn't it? Hahaha."
"I'll kill you!" Ragnar was completely enraged.