Victory in Magi-Clash: Chronicles of the Elder Glyphs was sweet, but fleeting. The endorphin rush faded, leaving Caelan alone in his command post with a belly full of nutrient paste and the static hiss of dead camera feeds for company. Boredom, his arch-nemesis, was once again laying siege to his mind. The small screen of the security computer, adequate for a cheap card game, was an insult to his newfound station.
An idea, brilliant in its hedonistic simplicity, sparked in his brain. He wasn't just some schmuck in a security office. He was the Lord Administrator of this entire mall. This mall, he recalled from his brief, terrified passage through it, had an electronics department. It would have big screens. It would have powerful, high-end computers meant for display, for gaming! It would probably have a whole wall of actual, boxed video games!
He could build a throne worthy of a true emperor. A gaming throne.
Fired up with a new and glorious purpose, Caelan cracked open the door to his office, his nerve failing him slightly. He poked his head out, one eye peeking around the frame, trying to gauge the 'danger level' of the main concourse. The air smelled faintly of bleach and burnt meat, a vast improvement. The floors were damp but mostly clean. Primus stood like a statue near the main, barricaded entrance, a silent grey sentinel.
Leo, who was scrubbing a stubborn stain near the office door, saw the single eye appear. He froze for a second, then consciously decided to ignore it. The strange, gangster-looking man who was supposedly his king was… weird. The giant, silent warriors were predictable; they gave orders and expected them to be followed. This man just hid in his room. It was safer to just focus on his task.
Seeing no immediate threats, Caelan mustered his courage. He pushed the door open fully and stepped out, striking what he hoped was a commanding pose, hands on his hips, chin jutting out.
"Mmm, everything is in order, I see," he announced to the vast, empty space, his voice echoing slightly. He looked directly at Primus. "Report."
Primus, who had been perfectly still, turned his helmeted head. The motion was sharp, precise. "My Lord." He executed a flawless salute, his armored fist striking his chest plate with a resonant CLANG. "The ground floor is sanitized and secure. The main entrances are fortified. Secundus is reinforcing the upper-level access points."
On a balcony overhead, Secundus, who was welding a metal grate into a shattered window frame with a salvaged blowtorch, also stopped, turned, and mirrored the salute. The synchronized gesture sent a shiver of pure, unadulterated power through Caelan. This, he thought, is awesome.
He nodded sagely, as if approving their monumental efforts. Then, he turned to the children. "You two," he commanded, pointing at them. "Your scrubbing duties are temporarily suspended. You will assist me with a high-priority logistical task."
He needed them to come with him because he was still too scared to go wandering the massive, eerie electronics department alone, but he framed it as a royal decree. "Secundus," he called up to the balcony. "You will accompany us. Provide overwatch. Just in case."
The Astartes simply replied, "My Lord," and with a heavy thud, vaulted over the balcony railing, landing on the floor below without so much as bending his knees. The ground trembled.
Leo and Maya exchanged a wide-eyed glance but obediently abandoned their buckets. Following their strange lord, with a nine-foot-tall bodyguard in tow, they ventured into the silent, cavernous depths of the store.
The electronics department was a temple of dead technology. Massive, black screens stood silent. High-end PC towers sat on display pedestals like modern art. Caelan's eyes went wide. It was better than he had imagined.
"That one," he declared, pointing at a hulking gaming PC with aggressive angles and enough flashing RGB lights to induce a seizure. "And that screen. The curved, fifty-inch one."
Leo and Maya were barely strong enough to wrestle the PC tower off its stand. Caelan 'supervised', directing them with imperious gestures while constantly glancing over his shoulder. Secundus, meanwhile, simply plucked the massive monitor from its wall mount with one hand as if it were a dinner plate. They formed a bizarre procession back to the security office: two small children struggling with a computer tower, a giant demigod effortlessly carrying a screen that was bigger than them, and their cowardly king leading the way, his tacky gold chains swinging.
After setting up his new rig and realizing he had all the entertainment he could want, a new thought intruded. He'd seen the kids eating the stale, sugary junk. That wouldn't do. His subjects needed proper nourishment. Or, at least, slightly better nourishment. He was a magnanimous lord, after all. He led his small retinue to the food aisles. He found a section with instant noodles. Perfect.
[The Administrator is proposing to feed malnourished children a meal consisting primarily of refined carbohydrates, processed sodium, and dehydrated vegetable specks. A bold nutritional strategy.]
Caelan bristled at the System's silent commentary. They're better than stale cookies! he retorted mentally. It's a hot meal! What do you expect me to do, hunt down a Grox and cook a steak? I'm not a professional chef!
He grabbed several brightly-colored packages of instant noodles. "Come," he commanded the children. "Your lord will prepare you a feast."
Back in the small staff breakroom connected to his office, he found a hot plate and a kettle. He boiled some of the bottled water they'd found and poured it over the brittle noodle bricks in a couple of clean bowls. He tore open the little silver foil packets of seasoning and sprinkled the magical dust over the top. The smell of salt, artificial chicken, and MSG filled the air.
[A culinary masterpiece is born. Truly, a feast fit for… well, someone.]
Caelan gave a mental "Hmph!" and ignored the System. He presented the two steaming bowls to Leo and Maya. They looked down at the rehydrating noodles, then up at him, their expressions ones of simple, uncritical gratitude. For the first time in a very long time, they were having a hot meal. It might be junk, but it was warm, it was savory, and it was given to them by the strangest, scariest, most powerful king they could ever have imagined.