Raised in Dungeon

Chapter 220 Master Rodion

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The acceptance of Lord Barkaley's apology allowed Allen to move forward. Now all his regrets in the region were gone, allowing him to focus on the problems he would face later.

And because of that, he immediately realized that he would feel bad for the people who had helped him and those who had loved him. So he went one by one to the homes of the people he had bothered, telling them that he would be leaving town soon.

Unlike what Rodion predicted, everyone understood it; they responded with a smile, then prayed for Allen to leave the city.

That time, Allen spent until midnight.

He hurriedly returned to the tavern as soon as possible. Since it was closed, the light from inside the tavern had disappeared, and the front door was locked.

The moment Allen grabbed the doorknob, nostalgia immediately carried him away to three years ago, when he was brought by Rodion to this tavern. He took three steps back, watching the front of the tavern with mixed feelings.

At that moment, he realized,

'I haven't thanked Master yet,' Allen thought.

Quickly, Allen went straight to the back door, hoping that Rodion was still awake.

As he opened the door, warmth immediately washed over his skin, which had been frozen by the cold night.

Inside the kitchen, the fire was still burning. Rodion was using his bony hands to swing an axe, chopping firewood.

"Master, why did you chop wood this late?" asked Allen.

"Because no one can chop them for me tomorrow," Rodion replied.

Allen remembered that Rodion had always cut wood at night before so that he could start cooking in the morning. With Allen gone, no one could chop the wood for him anymore. If there was, it would be Jack and Pascoe, but they were only 11 years old and didn't have the strength to cut the wood.

"I-I'll do it for you," Allen said, feeling a little guilty.

"No need. I'm done; sit at the table at the front; you want to talk, right?"

"Can't we just talk here?"

"The heat burned me here. Let me sit somewhere cooler."

"O-okay."

Allen sat in the front, waiting for Rodion to get ready. Suddenly he thought about Susan, whom he hadn't picked up tonight.

"Master! What about Susan?!"

"Don't worry; she's been dropped off by Bedell."

"Oh thank goodness."

After a few minutes passed, Rodion came out with two bowls of soup and placed them on the table.

"Master, what is this?

"You haven't eaten since before, have you? I haven't, either. Let's eat this soup first."

Allen held the warm soup bowl, and looking into it, he realized that the mixture was unusual. Since the tavern had been following Allen's recipe lately, he hadn't seen that soup since three years ago.

"This soup is..."

"It's called Cawl Kennin in my country. It's the favorite soup of my mother, who used to roam the west."

"Your mother, are you talking about the other world?"

"That's right. Try eating it."

Allen poured the soup into his mouth.

As he did so, his body was again transported to the past. The time when Rodion first brought him into the tavern.

Allen's life before he came to that tavern was only filled with hatred and revenge. Once his grudge was gone, he immediately became empty, walking here and there aimlessly. He didn't even dare to enter the Barkaley dungeon. He, who had nothing left, was saved by Rodion. Soaking wet and cold, Rodion brought him into the tavern and gave him the food.

As he ate the soup in front of him, he couldn't help but remember all the things that happened back then, making Allen end up crying again.

"Eh? Huh... sorry, I didn't mean to cry," Allen said.

The soup he ate in front of him was bland, just like that day. But somehow the soup was very warm, making him want to eat it all up.

Rodion didn't say anything. He just ate his own soup in silence. In the room, there were only Allen's unceasing sobs as he ate all the soup before him.

...

Ten minutes passed until they finished the soup.

"How does it taste?" asked Rodion.

"It's bland; now I'm starting to worry about leaving the tavern."

"You're speaking arrogantly now. Without you here, this tavern will still be successful. Even though I can't cook, Susan has learned your recipes, and she can definitely out-cook you."

"I hope that's true.

But even though this is bland, I don't hate it at all.

It's... very delicious, Master."

"Hmph! No need to try to cheer me up. I've never been good at cooking."

"Master..." Allen looked at Rodion with a more serious face. "Until when are you going to lie like that?"

Lies.

Allen had more or less realized it three years ago.

Rodion's knowledge was beyond Allen's reasoning, and it was also why Allen had once suspected him of being an other-worlder, but...

'But even among other-worlders, he's still much smarter.'

For three years, he had met several other-worlders who came to the Barkaley region to conquer the dungeon. At that time, he realized that other-worlders were basically ordinary people with a civilization different from his world. But that didn't mean they were smart, and it didn't mean they all had something beyond reason.

Ottar had even told him that other-worlders were mainly enslaved because they came without citizenship. Most of them had neither useful knowledge nor extraordinary god's blessings. Sure some of them were strong, but they are also a good-quality humans, even in their real world.

"Basically, other-worlders are people who are much weaker than us; it's just that they have a better absorption of mana," Ottar explained at the time.

Because of this, Rodion was a figure who opposed the things he believed in. He must not be just an ordinary other-worlder.

Plus, his hair back then was white instead of black.

"Master, with your knowledge, it's not that you're not good at cooking, but you deliberately make your dishes tasteless."

It all makes sense then.

No one was not good at cooking if they had that much knowledge. It would probably make sense if Rodion were just an ordinary "smart" person.

But after Allen lived with Rodion for three years, he realized many things about him. First, he could do martial arts and it was at an advanced level.

Second, he could hide his whereabouts, and he used to walk silently.

Third, he was proficient in medical science; it was strange that he had that knowledge but he had no experience with it.

Fourth, he can create medicine that has never existed in this world. Compounding medicine shouldn't be something that can be done without skill. And it's no different from cooking.

"Why don't you ever cook well?" asked Allen.

Rodion drank the water slowly.

As Rodion put the water on the table, he looked at Allen with a strange look.

His face was flat, severe and angry face as always, but his gaze was piercing. It was the gaze of one who was used to death and saw others as if they were nothing but a piece of meat.

"Because my hands are already too dirty with blood."

"!!!" The aura he emitted as he said that pierced Allen's body. But that aura wasn't the weight of mana, but purely from the emanation of fear that Rodion gave Allen just through his gaze and voice.

"Di-dirty?! Wh-what do you mean?" asked Allen. But actually Allen himself knew what he meant. People who have that kind of gaze are the only ones who see the tenderness of human flesh when it is slashed.

"No, you don't need to explain," said Allen. "Just like me, Master must have done many things that might be unforgivable. BUT! That shouldn't be a reason to stop yourself from cooking.

Didn't you say it yourself? If your hands are dirty with blood, you should just wash them.

You said If you love to cook, cook for yourself and others.

You said, One day all your sins will be covered by your good deeds.

And you also said that even though I've killed many people and soiled my hands with blood, I can still cook. I can still use my hands to help others.

Then why? Why do you still seem to be trapped in your past?! Is everything you say a lie?"

Rodion let out a long sigh, "Geez, you've really changed, Allen. You're completely different from the snot-nosed kid I met three years ago."

"Master!-"

Rodion covered Allen's face with his right hand, signaling him to shut up, and then he looked back at Allen with that strange-severe face.

"How many humans do you think I've killed?" Rodion said. "I have no idea myself. I've been doing that since I was little.

You may think that you've killed a lot of people, but I can assure you that if you were slammed with me, the pile of corpses you've accumulated would be no more than a bunch of rice in a field."