The air shimmered faintly and then the portal reopened with a whoosh of wind.
From it rolled out an entire barrage of industrial oil fryers—six of them in total, each one massive and shining under the light like metallic beasts.
They were attached to small propane tanks, connected with thick black hoses that snaked across the ground.
And right behind them, stumbling out of the portal, came Luca.
"Sorry I'm late!" He called out, wiping sweat from his forehead. "There was this old lady on the road whose car broke down, so I helped her fix it. Took me an extra bit of—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
"…Wait, you probably don't even know what a car is, right?"
"It's—uh—it's a thing that moves fast. On wheels. Kind of like a carriage but—"
But before he could even attempt an explanation, his gaze shifted toward the table and his words died in his throat.
There, laid out in neat, perfect rows, were more than a hundred and fifty chicken pieces.
