Overlord's Legion
A faint memory—one that didn't belong to him but to the body's past owner—flickered through Eren's mind. He didn't show it on his face.
A brief wave of haziness struck him, and he clutched his head slightly.
The teenage boy, Chib, glanced over. "Are you alright?"
Eren gave a small, affirmative nod. "Yeah."
Then, with a lighter tone, he asked, "Do you customers need anything else?"
One of the party members—the girl with half her face and ears masked — Cline, turning toward Chib spoke up.
"We might need one more plate of a whole Meer."
Her voice was soft—elegant, almost delightful. It stood in stark contrast to the sharp, commanding tone she'd used on Maed just moments ago.
"Anything else?" Eren asked politely.
Cline hesitated, then shook her head. "That should be enough. It'd be too much for them to eat any more. We'll have to cover the distance on foot within a week if we don't find any horses or Earth beasts on the way south."
Eren gave a simple nod, and though Chib looked a little disappointed, one sharp glance from Cline was enough to silence any protest.
"One full plate of Meer then," Eren said calmly, turning on his heel and heading toward the mid-hall, then into the kitchen.
Inside, Mira sat near the stove, her back to him, eyes fixed on the open window just above. The frame was cracked slightly outward—letting the smoke drift out and the fresh air slip in.
From where he stood, the sight caught him off guard.
She looked almost… enchanting.
She wore only a sarashi and an apron on top—both lightly damp from heat and effort—and a short sarong wrapped around her hips. There was nothing beneath it. The cloth was just thick enough to hide—but sheer enough to tempt. Still, nothing showed.
Just enough to make Eren's thoughts lose direction.
Mira noticed his presence and asked without turning, "Eren? Do they need something?"
Snapped from his daze, Eren hesitated, then forced the words out, still tangled on his tongue.
"They need one more Meer," he said, voice low.
Aunt Mira gave a small nod, her gaze drifting sideways—then toward the hall.
"We've almost finished what's left… but can you check that bucket over there?" she asked, pointing to the container resting near the doorway, close to where Eren stood."I think… there might be some left."
Eren stepped over and lifted the lid, pulling aside the cloth draped over it. A faint, iron-rich scent rose with the fabric.
Inside was what remained of the fresh meat they'd brought back just a day earlier.
"There is," he said quietly, though his voice carried a reluctant edge. There wasn't much—just enough, maybe.
"That'll do," Mira replied, already pushing herself up as she reached for the spice jars lined beside the stove.
She plucked a few from the rack, measuring some out with practiced hands and letting them fall into the sizzling oil coating the base of the wok. The scent of spice hit the air—warm, sharp, inviting.
"Can you bring it here?" she asked, a sheen of sweat already forming along her brow the moment the fire flared back beneath the pan.
"Alright!" Eren responded, hoisting the bucket and bringing it over to Mira.
"That'll do," she said with a nod, motioning for him to set it down.
He placed it exactly where she pointed, then stepped back as she rinsed her hands using the water kept in a small clay basin at the side. With practiced ease, she leaned forward and reached into the bucket, her fingers closing around the last of the cleaned meat.
Without hesitation, she dropped the chunks into the wok, where hot oil and spices had already begun to hiss and crackle.
Eren stood still, quietly admiring the speed and confidence in her movements. Mira handled the wok like a seasoned master—no wasted motion, no hesitation. She stirred the meat with swift flicks of her wrist, flipping and coating every piece in the sizzling blend.
In mere moments, the pre-boiled meat had transformed—crispened edges, a rich, savory aroma filling the room. She plated it neatly and passed the dish to Eren, her breathing a little heavier from the heat.
"That's the last of the meat," she said, brushing a few damp strands of hair from her forehead. "We'll need to stock up—either today or early tomorrow, before the battalions heading south start passing through."
She rolled her eyes slightly, glancing toward the hall beyond.
"You might want to ask them if they'd like some vegetables next," Mira said as she wiped her hands and stepped back from the heat. "We cook those better than the Meer. Make sure to mention it."
Eren nodded and headed back to the hall.
"Thanks for waiting," he said, setting the fresh plate down onto the table. "Shall I portion it into five?"
He reached for the serving spoon, but before anyone could respond, Chib had already grabbed the plate with both hands and began digging in—no utensils, just bare fingers.
Eren paused, unsure, but Cline gave him a calm, approving nod.
"It's mostly for him," she said, nodding toward Chib as he devoured the food like a starved wolf. "None of us could eat another bite anyway. He's the one carrying the weight of five."
Tera smiled faintly, while Ark leaned back in his chair, casually snapping his fingers again—this time, the spark low and subtle.
Eren straightened, brushing off his awkwardness.
"So… will that be all?"
Cline gave a slight nod, then glanced toward Tera with a subtle signal.
Tera reached into her pouch and pulled out a silver coin, placing it gently on the table.
Eren hesitated. "We might not have change for that," he said, hands rising slightly in apology.
"No need," Cline replied. "We pay our gratitude in full."
She pushed the coin toward him with one finger, her tone steady and sincere.
"That was the first meal since leaving the capital that didn't feel like meat boiled over herbs. Keep it. You can add it to our tab when we return."
Eren simply nodded in thanks, pocketing the coin without a word.
After a few moments, the group stood. Chib was still finishing the last bites as Cline dragged him up.
"The food was great," she added with a small smile. "We hope to eat here again."
Eren offered them a respectful wave as they stepped outside.
By evening, the tavern had quieted.
No new customers arrived, and Mira finally leaned back against the counter.
"That's enough for today," she said softly.
Eren, cleaning one of the tables nearby, gave a short nod.
"We might get more customers starting tomorrow…"
Mira sighed, brushing her arm across her forehead.
"And we don't have any meat left. The butcher's gates were closed—the family said he's off handling business outside town."
She exhaled again, a hint of frustration showing.
"And the hunters… there are so few of them now. The ones that remain hike their prices. We can't afford that every day."
Eren stayed silent for a moment, then—mentally—called out the System.
[SYSTEM STATUS]
[Host Identity: Eren Voss (Adopted), 18 years old]
[Current Location: Hinterland Village]
[Guardian: Mira Voss – adoptive mother's younger sister]
[Current Boosts: Unknown vitality pills]
[System Assignment: Learn $#@%^@^$*^&]
Eren clenched his fingers slightly, the vitality pulsed beneath his skin.
"Aunt Mira," he said aloud, his voice cutting across the still tavern with just enough weight to make her look up.
Her eyes met his, steady.
"The meat…" he began, his tone hesitant, eyes flicking away for a second. "I think I might be able to bring some in. But… I don't know how to skin or butcher it."
He looked sideways, unsure of her reply.
Mira blinked, slightly taken aback.
"I know how to butcher it… but Eren, how are you planning to bring a beast back?"She paused, concern slipping into her tone."They're twice the size of an average human."
Eren gave her a thumbs-up and a confident grin.
"Don't worry, Aunt Mira. I've got a plan."
She looked at him for a moment—his easy optimism, the strange fire in his voice—and though the worry lingered in her chest, she didn't say anything more. Just a quiet mumble:
"Please… don't put yourself in harm's way."
Later that night, the tavern lay still.
Mira was wiping down the kitchen surfaces while Eren finished cleaning the last of the tables. Once the work was done, they moved to the bedroom—a modest space with a futon laid out in the center, a small mirror near the corner, and folded garments tucked neatly along one wall.
Eren dropped down on the futon with a soft sigh. Mira, standing nearby, reached back and untied her apron, folding it before setting it aside.
Eren's face warmed. He glanced away.
Yeah... I should probably close the window.
He stood up to do just that, but before he could reach it, Mira's voice called out behind him—sudden, gentle.
"Eren, can we leave it open tonight?"He paused."The wind's cool today. Feels nice.. Let's keep it that way."
He nodded silently and returned to the futon.
As he sat back down, something poked him from underneath. Curious, he lifted the corner of the bedding and saw it—the small, worn book the system had given him earlier.
Tomorrow, he thought, tucking it back beneath the futon and settling down.
Across the room, Mira began undoing the sarashi from around her chest. Eren didn't mean to look—not fully—but his eyes drifted. Just a glance.
He caught the moment it loosened.
The binding gave way, and the tension snapped. Her curves spilled free beneath the dim light, the soft press of skin escaping from beneath the tight wrap.
Eren's breath caught. His cheeks flushed. He turned his head away quickly, a sharp puff escaping his nose.
That damn sarashi…It's like it was holding back a whole different world.
A quiet vow stirred inside him, one he didn't dare say aloud.
One day… I'll be the one closest to those peaks.
At that moment, Mira turned slightly, sensing something—but Eren was already facing the other way, pretending to examine the shadows on the wall.
She blinked, a little puzzled.
But said nothing.
Then, pulling the sarashi aside, she stood topless—her breasts bare, pulled down slightly by gravity, yet still full and round, swaying with each movement.
Her hands moved to the sarong tied at her waist.
It was almost see-through, barely hiding anything in the low light—but just enough to not be fully exposed.
She untied it and let it drop to the floor.
Eren, trying not to stare, peeked anyway—catching a glimpse before quickly shifting his eyes. His heart pounded. His head felt light.
She turned toward him.
"Eren, can you give me that gown next to you?" she asked, pointing at it.
Eren followed her hand—his gaze brushing over her nude body for a moment before snapping to the gown near his side of the futon.
His legs weak, his head dizzy, he picked up the gown and, without looking at her, handed it over.
She took it without saying anything. She noticed his reaction—how he avoided her eyes, how tense he looked—but didn't comment. A quiet awkwardness lingered in the air.
She slipped the gown on. It hung loose over her skin.
Then she walked to the futon and lay down—not the usual way. Tonight, she turned her legs toward the window, her head resting at the foot. The moonlight poured in through the open window and landed across her waist, lighting up the soft curves of her body. The gown she wore clung to her lightly, showing the shape of her breasts through the thin fabric—no bra, no straps—nothing to hide them.
Then she turned her head back toward Eren, who still sat on the edge of the futon, frozen.
"Eren… Tomorrow's going to be a long day. You don't want to be late again like today, right?" Her voice was calm, casual. "Sleep already," she said.
Meanwhile, Eren's mind was a blur.
I know you see me like a nephew... I know that, Aunt Mira... but when you undress in front of me like that... when you ask me to sleep right next to you—
His thoughts spun.
How the hell am I supposed to keep my mind from going astray?
He lay with his back turned to her at first, trying to control his breathing, trying to distract himself.
But the soft rustle of the gown, the shape of her back under the moonlight, the way her waist curved under the thin fabric—it all burned into his mind.
He couldn't resist.
His body moved before his mind could stop it.
He turned—slowly—now facing her back. Her gown rose slightly with her breathing, the outline of her body clear even in the dim light.
His heart pounded in his chest. The system, the hunt—it could all wait.
Tonight… was time for something else.